Raped by brother(31)

Surprisingly, the cabin had two rooms in it. There was a kitchen of sorts at the end of the main room. A well pump stood over the sink, handle and spout and all. At the other end of the big room, added onto the back of the cabin, was a bedroom of sorts. She could see a single big bed, sagging in the middle.

There was a plain wooden table, hard chairs, a moldy sofa with the cover half rotted away and covered by a beach towel. There were cotton mattresses on the floor and cans of food lining open shelves.

A small, blackened fireplace built of coral rock was set into the middle of the back wall. The light came from hissing lanterns. An old-fashioned kerosene lantern hung by its hoop from a nail in one of the open studs. It was covered, as was every other spot in the cabin that hadn't been touched recently, by a gummy layer of salt and dust.

Monica took it all in – the cabin and the people. She turned toward her brother. "Where's Burke," she demanded quietly. Her eyes glinted with indigo ice. "What on earth are you and I doing here, Whit?"

Deke smiled. He waved his hand and turned to sit at the table, scraping a chair back, making it teeter on the back legs. "Tell her, Whit," he said. "It's all yours."

Whit sucked breath to the bottom of his lungs. "We've been kidnapped, Sis," he said.

"What!"

His face screwed up with fierce emotion. "Damn it, I want my money!" he nearly screamed. "I'm tired of being a prisoner! I'm tired of having to beg and scrape around for a dollar from the old fart every lime I want to do something! I'm tired of being shadowed and chaperoned by that Goddamn Chester!"

He looked at her. His eyes were nearly wild. "You saw him, didn't you? You saw how I had to have help in shaking him! Monica, I want my own life, and I want it now! Christ, I'll be eighteen next month. That makes me a legal adult now. That means I can skip out of that Goddamn prison and go anywhere I want and do anything I want, and he can't say a fucking word!"

She stared back. Her mouth opened and closed. She didn't know what to say. It was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard of. And yet she knew, as of today, exactly what Whit felt. Maybe not quite exactly. He'd had two years more time to let it rankle than she had.

"But I can't," he went on, emphasizing each word. "I can't do one damn thing when I'm finally free, because I don't have any money."

"And this is your way of getting it?" she cried. "Robbing your own grandfather? Oh, Whit – why don't you just get a job!"

"Doing what? The old bastard doesn't even want us going to college, did you know that? What are we going to do, Monica? Sling hash in a crummy restaurant? What?"

She put her hand to her stomach. She turned away from him and moved to the couch and sat on it. He followed her, his eyes pleading for understanding.

"Besides, I don't want his money – just mine. Just what Mom left me. What's wrong with getting my own money?"

Monica waved her arm at the crowd watching them. "But why them, Whit?"

"Because they knew about this place – Emmett and Harry – and Carla knew them, and…"

"Why?" Monica asked quickly.

"What?"

"Why does Carla know them? From where? Is she good pals with Wendy? Look at them, Whit – do they look like they'd be in the same crowd together? Or Deke and the others?"

Whit opened his mouth and closed it. He looked at Carla and Deke, and then he looked at the company they kept. He saw his sister's point, and he had no answer. His expression changed.

"And why me, Whit? Why bring me in on this?"

"Hell, that's easy!" he said. "The old fart will pay to get you back. He'd pay them to get rid of me. I look like the old man, remember? I remember. Gramps won't ever let me forget it. Bad seed from a rotten fruit, that's me. Herb Lobocky's kid, that's me."

"So am I, Whit."

"Yeah, but you look like a Sanderhoff."

"Oh, Whit…" she cried softly. She emitted a big sigh of despair.

"Yeah. Don't give me that now, Sis. It's all set up. Tomorrow, the call gets made. Two hundred biggies it's gonna cost him. I'll pay them for helping, and I'll even give you some of it, Sis. How much do you want?"

Deke interrupted, surprising both of them. "Don't get carried away, there, Whit," he said. "You shouldn't make promises you can't deliver on."

"What the hell do you mean?" Whit asked, turning around. He blanched. Harry was looming in front of him, and Emmett completely blocked the doorway.

Deke smiled slowly. "There's been a little change in the plan. The way it goes now, your share has shrunk. To nothing, in fact."

Whit licked his lips. His eyes darted around the room. "Make that damn clear, fella," he said.