I grimaced at the coldness in his tone. "That wasn't for you to decide," I said, the injustice of what he'd done to me crashing down on my shoulders.
"I was protecting you! And him as a matter of fact. Though I'm sure that selfish bastard wouldn't see it that way. He could barely afford to feed his little sister. There were bugs and . . . mold growing on the walls, Lydia. Mold!" He screwed up his face in disgust. "How was he going to take care of a baby when he could barely take care of himself?"
Anguish gripped me as I pictured Brogan and Eileen in a place like that. I shook my head. "Our father would have given him a job. Our father would have helped them. You know he would have. You know it now and you knew it then." And that was the real reason he had remained quiet about Brogan's whereabouts. Oh God. Stuart, how could you?
"It's in the past anyway," he muttered, having the grace to look partially ashamed. "If I could change it I would, Lydia, I swear to you, but I can't."
I stared at him, trying to hate him for what he'd done to me, to Brogan, but only able to muster up a numb sense of pity. And it wasn't in the past. Surely even Stuart could see that it was anything but in the past. His current situation should be proof enough of that. Our current situation.
"You should get home," he said. "It's better that you're not here. I think they're watching my building. I've seen strange cars pass by out the window." He glanced to the large expanse of glass, and back to me, a twitch in his shoulder making it jump slightly. Was he paranoid or was he really being watched? "Your place is safer."
"Maybe. I'm not sure. I was staying at Brogan's apartment here in the city until this morning."
He looked shocked. "What the fuck?" he practically yelled. "I thought that was over. Lydia, he better not-"
"It's not like that," I lied. "He just thought it was safer there."
"That's a load of shit. It's part of his plan. He wants to turn the last person on earth who's in my corner against me. And then he'll ruin you, too. You have to see that! You have to see that he's not done with us."
"I-"
"Stuart?" a female voice called. I looked back to see a woman with bleached blonde hair wearing what looked like one of Stuart's button-up shirts and nothing else walking toward us from his bedroom. I turned toward Stuart and raised a brow. Seriously?
"I have to eat," he defended. "I can't even leave my apartment. How am I supposed to get food?" He must have forgotten about all the options for grocery and food delivery in New York City. Although apparently his "food delivery service" also included plenty of liquor, possibly drugs-though I had no idea how Stuart was paying for them-and sexual favors. I might throw up.
The woman nestled into Stuart, and he wrapped an arm around her. "Who's she, Stu?" she asked, shooting me a flirty smile. Really?
"I'm Lydia," I said, "Stuart's sister. Nice to meet you."
"Oh hi, I'm Jewel." She looked up at Stuart. "You coming back to bed, baby?" Well, that was my cue.
I stood up from the bar seat. "I've gotta go."
Stuart detached Jewel from his side and met me as I headed toward the front door, picking up my bag. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I will be."
"Stay away from Brogan Ramsay, Lydia. I swear you're safer away from him. There's something not right about this whole situation, and he's behind every bit of it."
"All right, Stuart," I said, because frankly, I intended to stay away from Brogan Ramsay. "Things are going to be okay," I murmured, though I was beginning to sincerely doubt that was the case. He nodded at me and let me out.
As I rode the elevator downstairs, I leaned against the wall, considering the current situation. Yesterday, I had thought I knew Brogan, understood him, and today . . . I realized I didn't know him at all. I knew nothing about his life. He'd been evasive about his business, there were women who just popped out of the woodwork-that made three I'd seen him with now-and apparently at least one had some sort of hold on him. And as for his feelings for me . . . would I ever know for sure how he felt? A wave of despair washed over me. I had hoped . . . what had I hoped? I chewed at my lip, considering that question. I had hoped Brogan and I were moving back toward where we'd been so long ago. Yes, I could admit that now. But that was impossible. We'd been innocent teens then. And now, we had so much baggage, so many obstacles between us. And what hurt the most of all was that for a brief moment, I had believed it possible anyway. Despite everything, I had believed.
My heart heavy, my mind troubled, my travel bag suddenly seeming to weigh twice as much as it did before, I stepped out onto the street and debated which way to turn. The truth was, I wasn't sure where to go. I'd been warned away from living at my own apartment, but other than that or Brogan's place-which I refused to return to right now-I didn't really have anywhere else to go.
Trying to move that depressing thought aside, I stood for several minutes debating before taking my phone out of my purse. I had several missed calls from Brogan, but decided not to answer him right away. Instead, I dialed Daisy's number.
"Lydia Loo," she answered in a sing-song voice. I smiled despite my pitiful current circumstances.
"Hey Dais." I stepped around an older couple walking hand in hand along the sidewalk. "What are you doing?"
"Shopping for an outfit. Will you be at the Christenson's Fourth of July party?"
"Um, no. I don't think so. Daisy, I need to catch you up on," I moved to the far side of the sidewalk as a large man with white-blond hair came walking straight toward me, not looking like he was going to change course before we collided, "some stuff that's been going on." I continued to veer right and the man did the same, clipping me slightly as we passed each other. I gasped as I felt something sharp poke my side, letting go of my bag. The asshole had been holding something sharp. Had it dug into my side as he passed?
"Lydia?" I heard Daisy say. "Hello? Are you still there?"
I turned to glare at the man and he leaned in to me, hissing in my ear, "Remind your brother what happens when we don't get our debts repaid."
My blood ran cold as I fell toward him. He held on to my upper arms for mere moments before he let go and disappeared into a group of people walking by in the opposite direction. I lurched forward, my hand going to the spot on my side that had been struck with whatever he'd been carrying.
"Damn crap connection," I heard Daisy saying from the phone still clutched in my hand. "If you can hear me, I'll call you later," Daisy said loudly. I dropped the phone on the ground, the screen shattering.
As I tripped and fell to my knees, someone off to my left gasped. I brought my hand from my side to my face. It was bright red with blood.
I'd been stabbed? Oh my God, I'd been stabbed!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Brogan
My heart lurched in my chest as I pulled over across the street from Stuart De Havilland's apartment. It was the only place I could imagine she would go. I'd arrived home, and she'd been gone. I couldn't exactly blame her, but I'd still felt my stomach drop with sudden, icy fear.
I'd rushed downstairs and jumped in my car, driving the ten minutes to Stuart's apartment, my heart racing as I banged on the steering wheel and blared my horn at people going too bloody fecking slow.
I pulled my car into a no parking zone, and jumped out, starting across the busy street. She had to be here. Where else would she go? Feck me. I needed to fix this, but first, I needed to find her and make sure she was safe.
Relief pounded through my blood when I spotted Lydia exiting Stuart's building. Thank God. Thank God. I increased my pace, pounding my fist on the hood of a BMW that blared its horn at me.
As I started across the flow of traffic on the other side of the center median, I saw a man walk quickly past Lydia, grab her upper arms and move on. Something about the movement seemed strange, but before I could think too much about it, Lydia turned in the direction the man had continued walking. Oh shite. No. Clutching her side, she stumbled forward, falling to her knees.
"Lydia!" I yelled, breaking into a sprint. The sharp sound of squealing brakes barely penetrated the fog of panic I felt. "Lydia!"
I made it to her at the same moment an older gentleman was stooping to help her up. "Miss, are you okay-"