Chapter 4 - The Brother Who Came Crawling Back
Thomas had always been the weak one.
That was the story our family told.
Dad was responsible.
Mom had been loving.
I was dependable.
Thomas was trouble.
We built our identities around those roles until none of us remembered who had assigned them.
Standing in Darnell's private lobby with blood running from his mouth, Thomas finally looked less like a failure and more like what he had always been.
A frightened boy inside the body of a grown man.
Dante searched him before allowing him upstairs.
Thomas complained.
Dante ignored him.
Darnell said nothing.
I watched.
A year earlier, I would have protected my brother from embarrassment.
Now I let him stand in it.
We gathered in the library.
Thomas refused whiskey when Darnell offered.
That frightened me more than the blood.
Thomas never refused whiskey.
"What do you mean Marcus worked for Dad?" I asked.
Thomas pressed ice against his eye.
"You don't know Dad."
"I know that."
"No. I mean you really don't know him."
"Then enlighten me."
His face twisted.
"Don't talk to me like that."
I laughed.
Darnell looked away, hiding something suspiciously close to amusement.
"Thomas, you watched Dad hand me to armed men."
"I know."
"You had three days to warn me."
"I know."
"You called Marcus after I left."
"I know."
"So unless the next words out of your mouth solve all three problems, you're going to have to live with my tone."
He lowered his eyes.
"Fair."
That one word stunned me.
Thomas had never admitted I was right without adding a but.
He began talking.
Years earlier, Dad had handled insurance risk for Brown companies.
Not glamorous work.
Fire claims.
Cargo loss.
Liability.
Vendor verification.
But it gave him access to enormous amounts of corporate information.
He knew which companies were profitable.
Which contracts had weak oversight.
Which executives had signing authority.
Which audits were routine.
Which auditors actually looked.
When Marcus became CFO, Dad approached him.
At least that was Thomas's version.
Dad found a weakness.
Marcus had a gambling problem.
Not Thomas-level sports bets.
Private tables.
Millions.
Dad helped him cover losses.
Then began using him.
First small fraud.
Then bigger.
"You're telling me our father blackmailed the CFO of a criminal empire?" I asked.
Thomas laughed without humor.
"You say that like Dad was normal."
"I thought he was boring."
"He wanted you to."
Darnell remained silent.
Listening.
I turned to him.
"Did you know Marcus gambled?"
"Yes."
"And you kept him as CFO?"
"He stopped."
"Apparently not."
Darnell's jaw tightened.
Thomas continued.
"As the money grew, Marcus wanted out. Dad wouldn't let him."
"Why?"
"Because Dad liked it."
I felt something inside me recoil.
Liked it.
Not desperation.
Not survival.
Power.
Thomas stared at the floor.
"He always talked about Brown."
Darnell's expression sharpened.
"What did he say?"
"That men like you stole everything and called it business. That you had more money than one person should have."
"Did he work with competitors?"
"I don't know."
"Who else knew?"
"I don't know."
Darnell leaned forward.
"You're going to need another sentence."
Thomas shrank.
I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
"I swear."
"How much did Rayburn take?"
"Maybe thirty million."
"Twenty-eight identified."
Thomas shook his head.
"More."
My skin prickled.
"How much more?"
"I heard Dad tell Marcus fifty."
Darnell became completely still.
"Fifty million?"
Thomas nodded.
"Maybe more."
I looked at Darnell.
His eyes had changed.
Not rage.
Calculation.
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"You keep saying that."
"Because he never trusted me!"
Thomas's voice cracked.
"He used me. Okay? He put businesses in my name. He had me sign forms. He told me it was tax planning."
"And you believed him?" I asked.
"For a while."
"And after?"
Thomas looked at me.
"After I knew."
There it was.
The difference between stupidity and complicity.
"How long?"
"About a year."
I closed my eyes.
Darnell asked, "Why tell us now?"
Thomas laughed bitterly.
"Because Marcus broke three ribs and said he'd kill me if Amelia didn't stop digging."
I opened my eyes.
"What?"
"He thought I could control you."
"Nobody controls her," Darnell said.
The words came before I could.
Thomas looked at him.
Then at me.
Something strange passed through his face.
Recognition.
Not romantic.
Not yet.
But he saw something between us.
"You trust him?" Thomas asked.
"No."
Darnell's eyebrow rose.
I continued.
"But I trust him more than you."
Thomas flinched.
Good.
"Where is Dad?" I asked.
"I don't know."
"Last place you saw him?"
"Our house."
"When?"
"This morning."
"Who took him?"
"Three men."
"Marcus's?"
"I recognized one."
Dante asked, "Name?"
"Neil Corbin."
Dante looked at Darnell.
Darnell knew the name.
"Who is he?" I asked.
"Former employee."
"Former how?"
Darnell gave me a look.
"Not retired."
I understood.
Corbin had defected.
Dante left to make calls.
Thomas sat hunched on the couch.
For several minutes, none of us spoke.
Then he said quietly, "I was scared."
I stared at him.
"Don't."
"I know it doesn't fix anything."
"It doesn't."
"I've been scared my whole life."
"You think I haven't?"
"Dad didn't hit you."
The sentence silenced the room.
I looked at him.
"What?"
Thomas stared at his hands.
"When you moved out for college, it got worse."
My mind searched memory.
Dad had been strict.
Cold sometimes.
Angry after Mom died.
But violent?
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was ashamed."
"You called me for money every month."
"Money was easier."
I sat slowly.
Thomas swallowed.
"Dad made me dependent because dependent people don't leave."
The sentence struck somewhere deep.
I thought of my own life.
Dad didn't need to hit me.
He had used guilt.
Different weapon.
Same cage.
Thomas continued.
"He'd bail me out, then remind me. Put businesses in my name, then tell me I owed him. Every time I tried to get clean or get a job somewhere else, he'd drag me back into another thing."
"That doesn't excuse what you did."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
His voice broke.
"I let him sell you."
Tears filled his eyes.
"And I will hate myself for that until I die."
I wanted to stay angry.
Anger was easier.
But truth complicates hate.
Darnell stood.
"Thomas stays here tonight."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because if Marcus is targeting him, sending him out would be stupid."
Thomas looked startled.
"You'll protect me?"
"No."
Darnell's voice was cold.
"I'll protect the information in your head."
Thomas swallowed.
Fair enough.
Later, I stood alone on the balcony.
Rain had stopped.
Chicago spread beneath me.
Darnell came outside.
He brought a blanket.
I accepted it.
"Thank you."
He leaned against the railing.
"Your brother may be telling the truth."
"Some of it."
"Yes."
"I don't know whether that makes it better."
"It rarely does."
I looked at him.
"You sound experienced."
"My younger brother betrayed me once."
I waited.
Darnell rarely spoke voluntarily about family.
"He was twenty-seven," he continued. "Addicted to cocaine. Owed money to people who hated my father."
"What happened?"
"He gave them a location."
"Yours?"
"My mother's."
My stomach tightened.
"Was she hurt?"
"She died."
"Oh."
The word felt inadequate.
"Darnell, I'm sorry."
He looked over the city.
"My brother didn't intend for that to happen."
"What happened to him?"
"He lives in Arizona."
I blinked.
"You didn't kill him?"
"No."
"Everyone says—"
"I know what everyone says."
"Why did you let him live?"
Darnell finally looked at me.
"Because when I stood over him with a gun, I realized killing him wouldn't bring her back."
The image of him haunted me.
Young.
Grieving.
Holding death in his hand.
Choosing otherwise.
"What did you do?"
"Sent him to rehab. Gave him enough money to start over. Told him never to come back."
"Do you speak?"
"Christmas."
That surprised a laugh out of me.
"Seriously?"
"He sends terrible sweaters."
I smiled.
Darnell smiled too.
Then the air changed.
His eyes dropped to my mouth again.
This time no phone rang.
My heart began pounding.
He moved half a step closer.
"Amelia."
"What?"
"If I kiss you, will you regret it?"
The question stripped away every excuse.
Not Can I?
Will you regret it?
He was asking about tomorrow, not tonight.
"I don't know."
"Then I won't."
The disappointment surprised me.
He stepped back.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"You scare half the city and suddenly you're a gentleman?"
"With you, yes."
"Why?"
His expression became serious.
"Because you were delivered to my door without consent."
The words landed gently.
"I will never take another choice from you."
My throat tightened.
"Darnell—"
The balcony door opened.
Dante.
"Boss."
Darnell's face immediately changed.
"What?"
"We found Rayburn."
My heart slammed.
"Where?"
"Warehouse near Cicero."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
I exhaled.
Dante didn't.
The relief vanished.
"What?" I asked.
He looked at Darnell.
"He's not being held there."
Silence.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
Dante answered.
"It means the building belongs to him."
My stomach dropped.
"He wasn't kidnapped?"
"No."
Dante handed Darnell a tablet.
Security photographs.
Dad entering freely.
Shaking hands with Neil Corbin.
Marcus Vale beside them.
Three men Dad had supposedly feared.
All together.
Darnell swiped to another image.
A shipping container.
Documents.
Weapons.
Cash.
Dad stood beside them.
Smiling.
Thomas appeared in the doorway behind us.
He saw the photograph.
His face went white.
"I knew it."
I turned.
"Knew what?"
Thomas stared at our father smiling beside Marcus.
"He told me there was an emergency plan."
Darnell looked at him.
"What plan?"
Thomas whispered.
"If Amelia found the accounts, Dad said we'd move everything before Brown could react."
My blood went cold.
"Move it where?"
Thomas shook his head.
"I don't know."
Dante answered instead.
"We do."
He enlarged a document from the warehouse.
A shipping manifest.
Destination:
Panama.
Departure:
Tomorrow.
Darnell's expression hardened.
"Fifty million dollars?"
Dante shook his head.
"No."
He looked at me.
"Closer to eighty."
And beneath the manifest, attached to the transfer authorization, was a signature.
May you like
Mine.
Again.
