B & E Ever After: A Hansel and Gretel Story (Fairy Tale Quartet Book 3) Read online

  Brick gasped and took the Skittle from me, holding it up triumphantly. “You’re right. Yes! We just need to follow the trail.”

  I glanced around us, looking for more Skittles, but it had gotten so dark we couldn’t see very far. “We’re going to need a light.”

  “I have a flashlight in my bag,” Brick offered, already slinging the pack off his shoulders.

  Yes! Thank you, God, for my junk-hoarding little brother.

  “Give it here,” I said, holding out my hand.

  Once he passed it over, I turned on the light, and we scanned the ground together, spreading away from the site of the first Skittle in a circular pattern, until Brick cried, “There! There’s another.”

  “Don’t eat it,” I instructed even as I hurried to him, and we started over again looking for the next Skittle.

  And that’s how we found our way back to the hotel, one beacon of Skittle-colored hope at a time. It took us nearly an hour, my skin was ice cold, and it had to be way past bedtime, but we made it.

  “There,” I said as soon as I saw something recognizable to me. “Isn’t that the villa where we’re staying?”

  “Yes!” Brick raced forward to reach the door first. “We made it!”

  I hung back though. Maybe I was worried Mother wouldn’t be around and the horror of our night would just be beginning. Or maybe something in me already knew what I’d see when I paused to look in through the large glass window.

  Because there sat the woman who’d given birth to us, lounging on a claw-footed sofa with her feet kicked up and crossed at the ankles as she sipped from a glass of wine, laughing at something she was watching on the television. It looked like a soap opera. She lifted a round chocolate bonbon to her mouth and took a bite as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  Because she didn’t.

  She didn’t have a single, fucking care on the entire planet, certainly not a smidgeon of concern for her two missing sons, anyway.

  I stared in disbelief.

  We had waited on her for hours, growing hungry and cold and scared, worried if she was okay, worried if we were going to be okay, and wondering if we’d ever see her again or if we’d make it home alive. And she’d been here, watching television in warmth and comfort, laughing while she dined on chocolate and wine?

  No fucking way.

  She’d never been a warm, caring person, but this seemed like a new low. It was heartless and cruel. And unforgivable.

  In the next instant, Brick pounded on the door, and the woman inside jumped, cursing when she spilled a splash of wine on her lap.

  “Mom!” Brick cried, knocking more vigorously. “Are you there? Mom! It’s us.” He jiggled the handle, but it was locked. “We found our way back.”

  When she glanced toward the door, she met my gaze through the glass.

  A second later, she perfected the appearance of a fretful mother and pressed a hand to her heart before springing from the couch and hurrying forward to let us in.

  “Oh my God! Where have you two been?” she accused as soon as she flung the door open.

  Grabbing Brick’s arm, she yanked him rudely inside and shook her newly manicured finger at him.

  “I looked everywhere for you. I even called the authorities, and they have men out searching for you right now. Are you two trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “But we were right where you left us,” Brick swore, “waiting for you to come back and meet us. It was so scary. No one talked English. We ran out of food. And it got dark and cold. I think one lady wanted to eat us.”

  He went in for a hug, but she sniffed and held up a hand. “Honestly, Broderick, this blouse is silk. You’ll wrinkle it. You already ruined my slacks.”

  When she pointed out the wine spill, Brick mumbled, “Sorry,” and moved closer to me. I took his frozen fingers and squeezed supportively. “I just didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again.”

  With a harassed sigh, she rolled her eyes. “God, you’re so dramatic. Of course you’d see me again. Do you think I’d just leave Monte Carlo without my children? Don’t be stupid.”

  But she had that look, that look she always got when she lied. Her lips were pursing in the funny way again.

  I stared at her as a deep, cold clarity settled into my bones.

  I wasn’t sure if she’d planned on leaving us there forever to fend for ourselves or if she’d just wanted one evening away from us, but whatever the case, she had definitely left us at the Metropole on purpose.

  She’d betrayed us. She’d abandoned two underage boys, with no money or food or anything, in a foreign place to take care of ourselves without a thought for our safety.

  Our own mother.

  Anything could’ve happened to us. Brick could’ve gotten hurt.

  In that moment, something shifted inside me. A feeling. A new life resolve. I didn’t know what to call it. But she hardened a place in me that felt as if it could never trust or soften again. I’d be stupid to let anyone in, to rely on them. To care. If my own mother could so easily discard me, then why should I bother counting on anyone else for anything?

  From that point on, I never thought of the person in front of me as Mom again. To me, she’d only ever be Lana, the wicked. And terms like truth, honesty, and goodness? They were only for fairy tales.

  Chapter 1

  Hayden

  AROUND TWENTY YEARS LATER

  I sat in my car a block from her apartment for nearly twenty minutes, waiting for her to emerge. When she finally did, I sank lower in my seat to remain undetected, though I had no idea why I bothered. She was utterly clueless to my presence, paying no attention to her surroundings as she swept down the street and headed in the opposite direction from where I watched, her head down as she dug for something in her purse. She was probably singing or whistling as she strolled merrily along, too.

  That sounded like her.

  She walked right past a stranger who paused to gaze after her as if she were a tasty morsel. My stomach clenched. I wasn’t sure if he was contemplating mugging or raping her, or maybe he just wanted to check out her ass, but I wasn’t a fan of his crude attention.

  “Dammit, Kaitlynn,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head in aggravation as she finally tugged her keys from her purse and then paused at her car to unlock the door, still unaware of any possible danger lurking about. “Please don’t tell me you’re this fucking oblivious every morning.”

  It was a miracle she’d survived past childhood.

  I watched the guy on the street, who was still rubbernecking, prepared to move if he did. But he didn’t go after her, and once she climbed behind the wheel of her ancient ride and it chugged to life before she pulled away from the curb, he finally turned away and left.

  “Creep,” I called him.

  Openly ogling a woman like that on the street was just wrong, especially when that woman was my stepsister. The bastard made me feel protective and want to intercede and warn him not to mess with her.

  And nothing made me more irritable than having any type of damn feelings.

  Grumbling, I started my engine and pulled out into traffic too, only to steer right back to the curb a block later and park in the very spot Kaitlynn had just vacated. Now that she was gone and out of the way, I could go about my business.

  Her gawker had moved on as well, but I easily forgot about him as I took in the crumbling brick siding of her building. With a heavy sigh, I ground my molars and exited the car. Why she’d chosen to live in this dump, I’d never understand.

  I’m sure she thought it was the best she could afford, but still. The neighborhood left a lot to be desired.

  Wincing when my shoes crunched over broken glass on the sidewalk, I flicked my ankle in an effort to shake the debris free from the soles of my freshly shined Italian Ferragamos and then dodged around a rusted nail.

  Nice. I hoped my tetanus shot was up-to-date.

  When I reached the entrance to Kaitlynn’s building, I
had to tug hard on the handle to unstick the jamb, yanking twice before it finally flew open.

  “Jesus.” How many repairs did one place need?

  Drawing in a breath through my nose to remain calm, I stepped inside. And all pretenses of calm fled when my nose twitched, and I gagged on the stench of old garbage.

  I had a feeling I knew exactly what this summons would entail, and it was already pissing me off. The fucker was going to beg for more money again.

  And idiot me, I’d probably give him some.

  The super’s office sat on the first floor, about halfway down the south hall. With no windows—just dim lights that flickered overhead—it felt like traveling down a tunnel. At least the hallway on Kaitlynn’s floor, up on the fourth level, was wider and brighter, but still, she probably had to walk this disturbing corridor whenever she needed to see the owner or pay her rent. Which meant he and I needed to have a serious chat about fixing the lighting in this place.

  When I reached a door that said Manager in crumbling, grayed letters with the G scratched off, I lifted my hand to knock, causing the cloth of my new suit jacket to pull taut across the back of my shoulders. Wincing over the constricting sensation, I readjusted my tie and decided to use a different tailor the next time, someone willing to give me a little more breathing room.

  “Just a sec,” a muffled voice from inside grumbled. Scuffling sounds followed before the door was jerked open to reveal the unshaven owner of the building, his thinning salt-and-pepper hair greased back and wrinkled shirt stained down the center of the front and around his armpits. Bloodshot eyes scowled at me before recognition set in.

  “Oh, it’s you.” Nodding, Darmon opened the door wider and stepped back to let me in. “You’re earlier than I thought you’d be.”

  “I’m on my way to work,” I answered, entering the dingy, cramped space that smelled of sweat and stale alcohol. Ignoring pleasantries, I cut to the heart of the discussion, adding, “What did you want?”

  I ignored the tattered vinyl chair to remain standing. Why sit and get comfortable when I wanted him to remain as unnerved and uneasy as possible?

  “Uh, yeah. About that.” Darmon shifted his feet awkwardly and eyed his chair behind his desk, probably realizing he couldn’t sit since I hadn’t. Hmm, too bad.

  Scratching the back of his neck, he cleared his throat and turned his attention to the door behind me. “I, uh, I’m going to need to raise the rent around here.”

  I took a moment to study the nervous dart of his gaze and the agitated twitch in his hand as he ruffled his oily hair. Then I answered, “No. You’re not.”

  His gaze shot to me, instantly morphing from nervous fretting to incredulous and righteous indignation. “What do you mean, no?” he cried. “It’s my goddamn building. You can’t tell me no.”

  “Really?” I lifted a single eyebrow. “Then why did you call me here to ask for my permission?”

  Huffing out an outraged snort, he muttered, “I wasn’t asking for your permission. I just…” His gaze shifted away apprehensively. “I just thought you should know.”

  Remaining calm and unmoved, I simply said, “And why is that?”

  With a moody scowl, he flailed out a hand. “Y-you know why.”

  “Because you really do need my permission?” I guessed, canting my chin to the side. “Because I have you by the short and curlies, and I’ll destroy you if you do anything that pisses me off? And you knew raising her rent would piss me off?”

  He narrowed his eyes without responding.

  With a bitter smile, I said, “That’s what I thought.”

  “It’s my goddamn building,” he repeated, mumbling the words as the last of his annoyance drained away and defeat took its place. He knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on, not when talking to me.

  When I’d first met him, it had been to confront him for his bait-and-switch activities. He showed potential residents the nicest apartment in the building and quoted a decent price for it, only to retract his words just as leasing contracts were signed so they’d end up with a shitty room half the size as they were expecting but at the same price.

  He’d been about to pull that stunt on Kaitlynn when she’d chosen this building to live in. After a little research into Richard Darmon’s background, however, I’d been able to catch on to his tactics and stop him before he screwed her over as well. Blackmailing him into giving her the single decent apartment in the entire building in order to keep my silence from the authorities, I had managed to hold Kaitlynn’s landlord right where I wanted him.

  And now, he knew better than to fuck with her.

  “It wasn’t just her rent I was going to raise,” Darmon muttered moodily. “I need to raise everyone’s.”

  “Why?” I repeated, slipping my hands into my pockets as I watched him sweat and squirm under my persistent stare.

  “Because…” He waved a hand as if that should explain everything. “This place ain’t cheap to maintain, you know. We just got that new elevator installed and—”

  “Except I funded all the expenses for the elevator,” I cut in, narrowing my eyes, unable to believe he would even mention the elevator. He’d paid exactly nothing to get the damn thing restored; I’d been the one to dish out twenty-eight grand for it. All because this was the crappy place where Kaitlynn had chosen to live.

  “Yeah, well.” He sniffed and watched me warily. “There’s more that needs fixed.”

  I glanced at the stains on the wall dryly. “Yes. I’m quite aware. And I must say, I’m a little disappointed at how poorly you manage your money. Can you not even get lights installed that don’t flicker?”

  He blustered a moment before exploding, “Do you know how much new ballasts and bulbs would cost for this entire building?”

  “I really don’t care,” I answered, glancing down at the watch on my wrist. “Just get it done and send me the invoice. I’ll cover the cost of repairs. But you won’t raise a single person’s rent in this building.” Especially hers. Leaning forward, I lowered my voice. “Is that understood?”

  One would think that would appease the jackass. I was pretty much giving him thousands of dollars.

  But sadly, no. He moaned and complained as if I was standing in the way of his entire source of happiness, because we both knew he’d had no plans of using the extra money from raising rent for actual building maintenance.

  “Why can’t you just front me the money beforehand?” he whined.

  I blinked at him, wondering if I really came across as that stupid and naive. Damn, I probably did. “Just get the repairs done. When I’m satisfied with how well you do them, then I’ll pay.”

  Snickering, he turned away as if to dismiss me. “Yeah, whatever you say, ya pretentious prick. We’ll do it your way this time. I won’t raise your sister’s precious rent.”

  “Good.” I set my hand over my heart. “And I hope this means we can still be friends, Dick.”

  He shot me a glare. “It’s Rick. And I’d sooner befriend Satan himself.”

  I shrugged, indifferent. “As long as you fix the lighting, I don’t give a fuck what kind of company you keep.” Dusting lint off the sleeve of my jacket, I turned away. “And see what you can do about the ventilation and trash situation around here. Your foyer smells like ass.”

  I left him grumbling to himself and started back down the cave-like hall toward the entrance of the building.

  It would’ve been easier to just buy the entire place out from under Darmon, but he was being a douche and wouldn’t shoot me a decent offer. Besides, becoming Kaitlynn’s landlord would probably give away the whole “stealth” part of my mission.

  You see, I didn’t want her to actually know I kept tabs on her, and it would be impossible to remain discreet if I openly bought the building of the girl I was secretly trying to watch over.

  Letting her realize I was so involved in her life was completely out of the question, too. I’d known Kaitlynn since she was seven. The stubborn little sh
it liked to make her own way. If she caught on to the fact that I was around to break her fall, she might get all out of joint or completely take things the wrong way. Hell, she might even start to believe I cared or something.

  Which I didn’t.

  Not purposely, anyway.

  The fact of the matter was her dad had been more of a father to me than my own. Honestly, he’d been the only true parent figure in my life.

  After Lana had married him when I was seventeen, he’d taken me under his wing and actually taught me shit, bringing me to the office with him and showing me how to run a business when I was just a teen. He’d taught me that truth, honor, hard work, and tenacity were what mattered most.

  I had admired the hell out of Arthur Judge, and Kaitlynn had been his only child, his beloved baby girl. I refused to disrespect his memory by letting Lana destroy her. And hurting Kaitlynn sometimes seemed to be Lana’s sole purpose in life.

  I already felt shitty enough about everything Lana had already inflicted on my stepsister. But as soon as Arthur had died, Lana had moved faster than I could anticipate.

  I’d still been mourning him and trying to deal with a world where he no longer existed, while Lana had been kicking Kaitlynn out of the only home she’d ever known, disowning her, and leaving her destitute. By the time I’d been able to see beyond my own grief, most of the damage had already been done. I still wasn’t sure how Lana had gotten Arthur’s will to state that practically nothing be left to his only child, but I had never believed it—it had to be a lie—and someday I was going to prove I was right.

  Until then, I kept trying to watch over Kaitlynn and prevent her from falling on even worse times. And if that meant dipping into my savings to fix an elevator in her stupid apartment building, then so be it. It was probably rightly her inheritance money—not mine—anyway.

  I owed it to Arthur to look after her.

  I just wished sometimes—or rather all the time—that she’d picked a different, better place to live. Because this building sucked, and it was run by a dirty crook.