BRICK Read online

  “I’m on the road, Zeke. I understand it’s a different circumstance when a loved one is involved, but ground yourself in medical knowledge and take deep breaths.” The sound of the blinker drowns out any other noise in the cab of my car. “I’m a couple blocks away. Zeke, the baby and Amelia will be just fine.”

  He lowers his voice, whispering into the phone. “I can’t lose her. She’s devastated. She can’t handle much more.” More of what? What the hell is going on?

  “I’m almost there. Get her checked in.”

  “Already done.”

  I end the call going straight into doctor mode. I’ve always held the science of medicine dear to my heart. I have no idea where the love came from, but it’s always been deep in my roots. The art of helping and saving lives is something I’ll never be able to explain. I found my one true love in the OB-GYN department. Holding a new baby when they rush into the world gulping their first taste of oxygen is the adrenaline I’m addicted to.

  With all the medical knowledge and drive to help others, I’m failing the two people I love more than anyone on this planet. My sister and nephew. I need to help her get out of that house.

  I leap from the car and shake away thoughts of Zoe and Wilder. They never go far when I try to brush the worries away. As I sprint into the hospital, I know the time has come to report Ricky to Child Protective Services. It will destroy Zoe, but I can only hope that in the end, she’ll forgive me once she’s healthy again and in a stable environment. With me. The woman deserves the world, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand by and let him strip away any more of my sister.

  The glass revolving doors rotate open, allowing me to catch a glimpse of my profile. Zoe and I barely look alike. I’m older by several years. When we were younger, she used to be teased all the time for being damn near identical to looking like me, but the years of growing into adulthood have set us apart. Zoe tends to dress and doll up more than I do, always highlighting her hair, wearing wild clothes. While me, I’m a contradiction when it comes to clothes. I wear anything as long as the heels on my feet make me feel sexy, then dress up or down.

  I take quick notice of our differences with just a glance; the only resemblance I notice are our noses. I’m tall; she’s short. I have blond hair and green eyes; she has dark hair and eyes as blue as the ocean.

  “I’ll never give up on you, little sister. Ever,” I whisper to myself, walking through the spinning doors.

  We were homeschooled and accelerated at our own pace. I’ve always felt proud knowing that Zoe followed in my footsteps in the medical career. Learning never was easy for her like it was for me. She finished high school at the typical age, whereas I completed the requirements months before my fifteenth birthday.

  With the final decision made, I push my way through the doors. Doctor face on and ready to bring this baby into the world.

  The hospital buzzes with excitement and hurried movements even though it’s late into the night. That’s the thing about the medical world; there’re no nine-to-five hours. It’s a lifestyle you marry the day you take the oath. Without thought, I rush up to the third floor, my second home. Change into a clean pair of scrubs. Wash my arms and hands while listening to the nurse give me Zoe’s vitals and progress and find Zeke making his own pattern across the carpet when I start walking to the room the nurse told me Amelia was in. If anything, he’s amped more than when I spoke to him minutes ago.

  Lifting his head, he makes eye contact with me while gripping the back of his neck. “She wants to push.”

  “Good. We will have this baby in the arms of her parents.“ I nod and press past him. Zeke grabs my arm, forcing me to look at him. The terror painted in his vibrant pupils sends chills right to my bones. It’s the quiet before the storm, and I have a feeling of uneasiness settle at the base of my spine. I know whatever it is, my world is about to crumble into pieces. Those pieces so obliterated that I’ll never be able to put my life back together.

  “You know Amelia has been on bed rest. She’s been taking it easy.”

  I nod. My throat is growing tight.

  “Her…” He fights to get the words out. His finger is trembling against the crook of my elbow. “Her best friend was found dead tonight.”

  My vision threatens to morph into pitch black because I know who one of her two best friends is, or was. No, no, no. I repeat it over and over in my mind as if it’s going to help me in this situation.

  “Long story short, she couldn’t get a hold of her friend Zoe. We sent someone over there to check on her.”

  My heart quits beating feeling the loss of my entire reason for living. “Her friend Zoe?” I ask. Jesus. No, no, no, no!

  He nods, confirming the nightmare. “Her son and boyfriend are nowhere to be found. The cops have been alerted. A neighbor called it in.”

  Painful echoes of screams interrupt our conversation.

  “She needs you, Eden.” Zeke jerks my arm. “C’mon.” Oh, God. I need strength right now. More than I’ve ever needed it before.

  Dr. Hartley will never know how hurtful his words are. She needs you. Another string of cries of agony floats out into the hall. I jerk my chin toward the door knowing I have a job to do. A life is banging on the world’s door to enter and leave footprints all over it, while I’m forced to digest the fact a beautiful, courageous life was ripped from the same world. I feel sick.

  One more pleading scream from Amelia jolts me into action. My mind is a tattered mess. He has got to have the name wrong. He just has to.

  But he doesn’t. The fact is bone deep, and I know it, but the woman’s cries for help force my hand.

  I can feel it in my bones. See it in Amelia’s eyes when she bears down through another contraction.

  I can feel it when I hold Zeke and Amelia’s newborn daughter, Clara, in my hands.

  I’m too late. My baby sister is dead. The ice-cold reality sends chills throughout every vein in my body. All of those ‘I should haves’ and ‘could haves’ dying a quick death...it’s all on me. I’ve sinned by not helping her, and she paid the price.

  2

  Brick

  “Jesus Motherfucking Christ,” I roar over the loud rumble of my bike. Cut the engine; place my arm across the handlebars to cradle my head.

  I can’t get her image out of my mind. It’s plugged so tight in my skull I’m on the verge of destruction.

  Zoe is fucking gone. I will never forget the way her dead eyes stared at me. The way her mouth gaped open, her fingers curled tightly around a plastic toy truck.

  I may have some shady-ass fucking shit in my life. Killed some people a time or two because they deserved to die, but I sure as hell have never stumbled across a scene as devastating to my black heart as seeing her innocent, lifeless body on that bloody kitchen floor.

  I ran like the son of a bitch I am. I had no choice when I heard the sirens in the distance and the sound of a crowd gathering outside. Someone must have heard what the hell was going on in there and called the cops. If they did, they should be shot for not pounding the door down to save her. I hope they rot on their fucking guilt for this. The good Lord knows I would’ve stampeded that fucking door down and surprised that lowlife with bullets in his skull. That fucker better pray to the devil himself the cops find him before I do.

  My background doesn’t have a damn thing to do with me slipping out the back door undetected. Running through the backyards and down the street to where I parked my bike. It’s the fact that once I gathered my shit the best I could, the intensity of rage took over. That slimy motherfucking boyfriend of hers did it. He took the kid and left after he beat her to death. Literally.

  I passed the cops and the ambulance on my way. My skin was prickling with anguish for what they were about to walk in on.

  By the time I made it back to Zeke and Amelia’s, I was shaking like a dried-up leaf blowing in the wind. This is all kinds of fucked.

  It didn’t matter how I told Amelia or when. She was going to freak.
Break down and blame herself like I’m blaming myself. The only thing that mattered to me was the safety of her and the baby. Everything else had to be shoved aside.

  “Did you find her? Is she alright? Is she coming over?” Hell, no, she isn’t.

  “Yeah. I found her.” I ran my hands through my hair. Caught a breath and didn’t come up for air until I told her. It was the hardest thing I’ve done in my pathetic excuse of a life.

  Amelia’s screams hit my ears, sounding like a dying animal. It tore through my skin and rattled my bones. She fell into the arms of my brother. Her body shaky, lips trembling, and then she bent over clenching her stomach. Water started dripping down her legs, and I froze. Guilt slinked right up and took hold of blackened-out soul and crushed it.

  The guilt is smashing my brain as I climb off my bike and enter the hospital. The noise, chaos all around me driving me further insane.

  I glance up at the directory, find the maternity floor, and pray to anyone who dares listen to me to let Amelia and the baby be alright. My brother better be holding on as well. If anything were to happen, I would die a slow, tortured death by my own Goddamn doing. I’d slit my own throat on the spot.

  The minute I step off the elevator, my eyes go wide when I see a woman in scrubs sitting on the floor. Her hands are covering her face. She’s crying. Shoulders are shaking, body convulsing. Sobbing.

  Ruckus. So much of it is running through my head that I brace my hands on the wall for support.

  Is she the doctor? Did something happen to my family? Fuck. I can’t breathe. My lungs start constricting in desperation as they try to inhale air. I picture Zoe’s dead body in her own pool of blood, then Amelia's face fades; the game goes on and on until I shake the vision from my head.

  “Eden,” a familiar voice calls out of a room. Zeke. Thank fucking God. His big frame kneels in front of the woman. Hands grabbing hold of hers in a tender grip.

  “Zoe Ashton is she the woman who died?” the woman asks, pain etched so deep in those words that my blood freezes from hearing her name.

  “Yes.” Zeke drops her hands, sits back on his haunches, and shakes his head. I can’t see his face, but I know my brother well enough to know he’s shocked as fuck at hearing Zoe’s name. So am I.

  “Jesus Christ, Eden. How the hell do you know her?” His voice is so quiet I can barely hear him over the thunder rolling in my chest.

  “She’s…” Her shoulders start shaking again with violent force. I need to fucking stop the shit running through my brain because it makes my reality slap me with the brutal truth of my life—my sister and the hell she went through blinds my vision.

  Loud sobs run up and down the hall, bringing me back to the woman on the floor.

  Jesus Motherfucking Christ. I run my hands down my face nearing a point of snapping my head off.

  “What? My God. I didn’t know. Come on. We need to get you cleaned up,” Zeke growls. Demandingly. Shocking and scaring the piss out of me along with it. She’s what? What the fuck did I miss her saying? Goddamn it.

  “No. I need a minute. Someone from the administration has been paging me for a half hour. The police are downstairs. I have to identify her body. It’s in the morgue at St. Peters. They have my sister locked up in a cold metal box. This is all my fault. I should have stopped it. I was going to; I swear I was,” she rattles on while her words are rattling in my head. I’m not sure if I heard her right, because I swear to God she said ‘sister.’

  By some fine intervention, my legs shuffle forward. “Zeke,” I call out. I have no clue what I’m thinking; all I know is, if I were in this woman’s shoes and found out my brother was dead, I wouldn’t want to be alone. And knowing my brother like I do, he wouldn’t want her to be either.

  So many other questions drift, fade out, drift back in. The first one being Zoe has a sister. The second one is, who in the fuck was the real Zoe? She led so many different lives, and it seems she was the joker, but again, if it were Zeke in that metal box, I’d be there. No questions asked.

  “Saxon.” He stands.

  When I see the look of desperation on his face instead of a look a new father should have, I nearly break apart. My heart sinks to the tips of my steel-toed boots.

  “The baby. Amelia. Are they alright?” I murmur.

  My chest is so tight, filled with emotions I never knew I had.

  “Yeah. My daughter is beautiful. Amelia is sleeping. I was…”—he pauses. Stands and sticks his hand out to the woman. She takes it, her hands shaking—“going to go to the nursery to see her. We’re naming her Clara. If I call the nursery to tell them you're coming, would you go sit with her?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. I have a niece. They named her after our sister. Fuck me. A niece named Clara. A miracle is now gracing this earth.

  “Hell, no.” I open my eyes. I know exactly what he’s thinking. He’s doing what he does best. Putting someone else before himself. It’s in his nature. Zeke has always been the caregiver even before our sister died. It’s placed so deep in his DNA to be the boss and take charge that the fucker doesn’t even know when to put himself first.

  “I’ll go with her; you go be with your daughter. I got this, Zeke. The only hero you need to be right now is your daughter's.”

  I have no idea how those words flowed from my lips. I felt each syllable lounging in my throat, but that man deserves nowhere else to be but beside the gift God gave him. I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I want to hold my niece close to my chest and kiss the hell out of her even though these palms have had their fair share of bloodshed etched into them. I’ll get my turn. Right now, she deserves to be held by her father.

  “Thanks, brother,” he whispers in a solemn tone.

  In slow motion, with each action branded on my memory forever, Zeke drops the woman's hand. I watch as each of their fingers unlace, and then my brother does something I never expected. He places her hand in mine. Her fears and trembles become my rocking core. I see Zoe, yet I don’t. She looks so much like her, making me want to hold her forever, then within the blink of an eye, she looks nothing like her at all. It’s insanely wrong and right in the same flash of a second.

  Can’t explain it, but there’s something about this woman threatening to shine light on my darkened soul.

  3

  Eden

  A man who, by all means, resembles an ex-convict holds me up as we make our way out of the hospital. I have no idea what I’m doing or how I was able to deliver that beautiful baby girl without falling apart. The second I stepped out of the room, I crumbled to the floor, barely hanging on until Zeke walked out. That’s when reality sunk in and my world went upside down. Seeing the pain that struck him hard in the gut hearing I was her sister hurt. Hell, I didn’t even think I could ache any more. I knew it was all wrong playing along with Zoe’s secrets, but I always did what she asked, hoping it would give her just enough courage to leave that bastard. It turns out I was wrong.

  “Get on,” he says. Voice gruff. Demanding.

  The words register, but I’m not following what he’s asking until my fingers glide along something harsh and cold. When I peer down, it’s the back of a motorcycle. I look up to the felon in confusion. Laced in peer utter shock. My mouth opens, but no words come out. I have so many hateful words to scream at anyone who will listen. My mind cannot drudge up a single word to say. Not to him anyway.

  “Darlin’, I’ve got a bike, and you need to throw one leg over and hold on, yeah?”

  I may be losing my mind. My heart may be dead with my sister, but I have never heard anyone speak the word ‘yeah’ instead of ‘yes’ in my life. What kind of slang is that? Prison talk?

  “Now. Please,” he gruffs out.

  I do not want to get on this thing. Instead of speaking, I nod, even though getting on the back of his bike is the last thing I want to do. Zeke’s brother, who is nothing like him, must be adopted or something. Hell, I don’t know. He doesn’t speak another word; he just peers down at me. Eyes a
ll dark and mysterious. What he does do is shock me when he runs his large palm down one of my thighs then effortlessly tosses my leg over the bike. He grips my waist, scoots me back until he has me adjusted in the right position of his liking. I’m not sure how he does it, but a helmet is strapped on the top of my head and then buckled under my chin.

  The brisk evening air whips across the apples of my cheeks, through my hair. Then again, I’m unable to process on a single shred of certainty. Best friend, Zoe dead. I delivered a baby. Collapsed in the hall then was escorted off by this man to confirm, that, in fact, it is my sister who had been murdered. It’s her. I know it.

  I feel as dead as she is. Yet I’m alive. My hands are wrapped around a muscular torso. My skull is lodged in my heart. Both of them shattered and broken.

  I try focusing on the breeze tickling over my oversensitive features because it’s the only thing I can feel. I concentrate on each whip of air brushing across my face and sinking through my scrubs until the roar of the engine stops, as does the air in my lungs.

  The man must be some sort of beast because he doesn’t tell me to get off. He once again grabs my thigh, hoists me up, and levels my wobbly legs on solid ground. The helmet is off just as quickly as it went on. I’m entranced by what this stranger is doing.

  I blink, his sharp features coming into view. I notice the shaved sides of his head. A stark white T-shirt. He has his hair up in a windblown man bun, and his tattoos play peek-a-boo with each flex of his throat. Why am I studying his throat?

  His massive palms cup my face, drawing my attention to focus on the words he speaks. It takes everything inside of me to do so.

  “I’ve been here and done this before. You go in and nod your head if it’s her. Shake it side to side if it’s not.” The giant’s features wince in pain. “I was young when someone’s life was taken before her time. I stood there next to Zeke and my parents. You have to do this.” I see his lips moving, but I have no idea what this man is saying. Maybe I do. I simply don’t want to hear it.