See No Evil: Part Two Read online

  “Now, now,” Wyatt rasps, resting his hand on Sebastian’s back.

  Sebastian flinches and steps away. “I need to get back to work. Unless you want me to be reported missing and have my face plastered all over the media.”

  “Right, a doctor is a man of importance, isn’t he, nephew?” Wyatt sneers, giving Sebastian a look of distaste. “Don’t forgot who gave you the money for med school.”

  “With the money our parents left for us,” I grit out, although we never saw a penny of it. He said he used the money to feed and clothe us, which I guess is fair enough, but he can’t really throw the med school thing in Sebastian’s face. I paid for that with my blood, and so did Spencer. We bought Sebastian a way out by joining Wyatt’s team. He can’t act like he did it out of the kindness of his heart. I don’t think he has a heart.

  “Semantics,” he replies, nodding toward the door. “I’ll be at the table.”

  He leaves, and we all watch him.

  “What do you think he’s up to?” I ask the two of them, eyes narrowing. “I don’t see why he needs us when he has his men.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t have a big team anymore,” Spencer speculates. “Most men are in this for the money, then either get killed, arrested, or skip countries. This isn’t exactly a long-term career choice.”

  I make a sound of agreement. “Or some of us are forced into it.”

  “That was just us,” Spencer says in a dry tone, getting up on his feet. “Let’s eat and get this shit over with.”

  Sebastian shifts on his feet then looks to me. He’s my height, our eyes level. “I’m sorry you were dragged back here, Sy.”

  “I’d rather me be here than you,” I say, slapping his shoulder as I walk past him. I know he’s not a kid anymore, but he’ll always be my kid brother. The smart one. The one with his head in a book no matter where we are. I’m proud of him, although I don’t know if I’ve ever said it out loud to him. Chats about our feelings were never our strong suit. I follow my brothers to the table, where there is a full spread of food. Wyatt has really gone all out this time, but all it does is make me feel even more suspicious.

  We eat and make small talk.

  I don’t exactly like it, but it’s nice to watch Sebastian, just listen to him talk and watch his facial expressions. Out of all of us, he looks most like our father. I wonder when the next time I’ll see him again after this will be. Years again? Is he happy?

  “When are you going to tell us what you want?” I ask Wyatt once everyone has finished eating.

  He studies me for a few moments, then speaks. “There’s a fugitive and I need the two of you to bring him to me.”

  That sounds simple.

  Too simple.

  “Why do you need us?” Spencer asks, eyes darting to me. He’s thinking the same thing. Wyatt has many men that could do this job, so why does he want us? There has to be a catch.

  “No one has been able to catch him,” he continues, leaning back in his chair. “We’ve tried. And I need this money. The sum is ridiculous.”

  I’m assuming we won’t see any of it, but it’s worth it to get him off our backs.

  “Give us the information and we’ll be on it. But Sebastian goes home today.”

  “Sebastian goes home when you bring the man to me,” Wyatt says, lips thinning. “It’s basically a holiday for him, and he’s safe here, so I don’t see the problem.”

  I grit my teeth. I don’t want my brother to be here without us. Wyatt reaches into his pocket and slides me a piece of paper with a name on it. I open it and scan the name.

  Jack Watterson.

  I scrunch the paper up with my hand and look my uncle right in the eye.

  “Please tell me this is just a fucking coincidence.”

  He shakes his head.

  I knew there was a catch. I just didn’t think it would be anything like this.

  The man my uncle wants me to bring to him is my childhood best friend.

  “You know him. His habits, his fighting style. Everything,” he continues, shrugging like it’s nothing.

  I’m a loyal man, and although Jack and I aren’t in contact now, he once meant something to me.

  I can’t do this.

  But what option do I have?

  It’s my brother’s life or my friends.

  I share a glance with Spencer, whose jaw is tense. He knows Jack, too. And he knows that we can’t do this. I look at my other brother. I need to keep him away from our uncle too. I don’t think my uncle would kill him, or anything like that, but you never know how far he will take things. Of all of us, Sebastian is disposable to him. He really doesn’t believe if he hurt Sebastian, we would kill him. He thinks he is untouchable.

  Sebastian needs to be back to his life—saving others’ lives, not stuck here.

  I nod at him, then stand and motion for my brothers to follow me.

  We need a plan, and stat.

  Or this is not going to end well.

  *****

  Things didn’t end up how we thought they would, but the three of us made it out alive.

  That’s all that matters right now.

  The rest we can sort out later.

  Chapter Three

  Brielle

  Three Months Later

  “Pregnancy looks good on you,” Christina says, nodding in approval. “You’ve got the whole glow thing, although now is not the time to lose weight.”

  “I’m not losing weight on purpose,” I say, sighing. “I can hardly keep anything down! My diet consists of milk, fruit, and crackers. Anything else makes me feel sick.”

  “It should pass,” she says, lifting up a book, “according to this.”

  “You’ve been doing some research?” I ask, finding it cute. I don’t know how I’d be getting through this pregnancy without her.

  “Well, I’m basically the loaf of bread’s father, aren’t I?” She wriggles her fingers at me. “When are you going to put a ring on it? I want a pear-shaped black diamond, surrounded by a halo of diamonds.”

  I roll my eyes. “Can you stop calling the baby a loaf of bread?”

  “No,” she says, smirking then shrugging. “I mean it as a term of endearment.”

  I run my hand over my still flat stomach. “I should probably tell my parents I’m pregnant.”

  “Or just wait until she’s born,” Christina says, laughing. “Merry Christmas! Oh, by the way, I had a baby. And you can’t be mad because look at her little smooshy face.”

  We both think it’s going to be a girl for some reason, so we’ve been calling the baby “her.” I wonder if she will look like me or… him. I hope she has those amazing blue eyes.

  “They’re not going to be angry,” I say, shrugging. “They’ll be happy to have a grandchild. Just disappointed that I’ll be doing it alone.”

  “What am I? Chopped liver?” she says, pursing her lips.

  “You know what I mean,” I say, wrapping my arm around her. “You’ve been the best support I could have asked for.”

  “I know,” she says, smiling sadly. “I still can’t believe they just left.”

  I try not to think about it. We never tried to contact them after that night, and they never tried to contact us. He’s the one who just left, so he should contact me, right? I know that love is meant to have no pride, but he just left me.

  Without a word.

  How am I meant to take that?

  It hurts to even think about. He meant everything to me, and I obviously meant nothing to him, or at least, not enough. When I replay our time together in my head, I know he couldn’t have faked those feelings. What I felt was real, very real. You can’t fake a connection like that. I don’t think it’s one-sided either, but I guess he’s just better at shutting himself off than I am. Or I guess I just loved him more. That’s what it is, probably. In every relationship there’s always one person who loves more. You’d think being loved so much would make the other person stay, and realize how lucky they are, but appar
ently not.

  I look down at my stomach.

  Now it’s just this loaf of bread, me, and my crazy bestie.

  And you know what?

  We’re going to be fine.

  *****

  My feet are aching by the end of my shift. This is the first time I’ve worked from opening to close since I became pregnant, because Christina swapped shifts with me. But now her university timetable changed and she’s unable to, so I’ve been on my feet for eleven hours. I’m only four months in, and I have no idea how women work right up until they give birth. I have a new respect for all the women who have. I get tired so easily and have no energy. Still, I don’t complain out loud, because it’s not going to help anything. I’ll just have to suffer in silence. If every other woman can do this, so can I.

  When Charlie comes back in just before close, I ask him why he’s here. He finished his shift this morning.

  “You’re pregnant,” he says, glancing around the café. “I’m going to lock up and carry all the boxes inside. You’re going to sit down and watch me.”

  “Charlie—”

  “Don’t argue, Bree. Did you think we were going to leave you to do everything alone? Christina has late afternoon classes now, but I don’t. I don’t want you to overwork yourself, and you’re definitely not doing any kind of lifting. If I can’t be here, Elijah will. If he can’t, Tori will.”

  I sit down on one of the chairs and smile. “What did I do to deserve you guys?”

  “Just lucky, I guess,” he says, grinning. “Now play some music for me on your phone so I can get everything done.” He pauses, and adds, “No gangsta rap.”

  I laugh, and play the latest top fifty songs, watching as he carries boxes, stacks chairs, and locks everything up. Then he walks me to my car. Before I get in, I hug him tightly and thank him. He shrugs it off like it’s no big deal, but he didn’t have to help me, and I could have easily done the work. I would have been fine. I wouldn’t have complained. It’s my business, and it’s my responsibility to carry out certain tasks, no matter what I’m going through. No one has to help me, aside from the shift that they are rostered to do.

  But he wanted to.

  Great, now I’m starting to feel all emotional.

  When I drive home and park my car, I see someone standing at my door. Someone I never thought I’d see again, even if he isn’t the man I can’t seem to get out of my mind. He opens my car door for me and I step out, keeping my eyes on him like he might disappear at any time.

  “What are you doing here, Spencer?” I ask him, glancing around, as if Sylar might be near too.

  But he’s not.

  Of course he’s not. He’d have to care to make an appearance.

  “How have you been, Brielle?” he asks, opening his arms for a hug.

  I let him hug me, but don’t return it.

  “Come on now,” he says softly, pulling back and watching me. “We need to talk.”

  “About what?” I ask hesitantly, not sure how I’m supposed to react.

  “Sylar,” he says, and that’s all I need to hear. I want answers. No, I need them.

  “Do you want to come in for a coffee?”

  He nods and follows me inside after I unlock my door.

  Sitting at my kitchen counter, he says, “You look well.”

  I force a smile, then blurt out, “Is Sylar back, too?”

  I need to send Christina a sneaky text message to tell her that Spencer is here. I wonder if he will notice. Is it rude to suddenly be on my phone? Not as rude as the way they left, I suppose. I pick up my phone and send her a quick text.

  He nods, slowly. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Well, he isn’t here,” I say, my anger building. “So I think that says enough, don’t you?”

  Spencer looks down at his hands and says, “He was shot, Brielle. We just got back today, and he’s still on bed rest.”

  Did he just say…? Sylar was shot?

  This is not how I expected this conversation to go.

  “Wait, what?” I yell, shaking my head in confusion. “He was shot? Is he okay? Why did no one think to tell me this?”

  “Calm down, he’s fine,” he says, motioning with his hands. “He got shot in the leg, but he will be fine. He just needs to rest it a bit, is all.”

  I want to ask Spencer if Sylar asked for me, but my pride won’t let me. Did Sylar send Spencer here, or is he here of his own accord? I have no idea where Sylar’s head is at, no idea if he wants to see me or not, but right now I don’t care.

  “Can I see him?” I ask in a small voice. He’s an asshole, but he’s hurt, and I want to see with my own eyes that he’s okay.

  He nods. “He’s at home. Come on, I’ll take you there. He’s been asking for you.”

  I wrap my arms around myself and nod in return. Trying to ignore all the different emotions running at me, I follow Spencer to his car, which he parked across the road. He opens the passenger door for me, then closes it once I’m seated. I tell myself that Sylar is fine, that it’s okay for me to be worried now and angry at him later; it’s okay for me to still care about him. We have unfinished business. I won’t know what he’s thinking until I see him, and even then I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for leaving without thinking I was worth an explanation.

  “How’s Christina?” he asks me, breaking the silence.

  “Why don’t you call her and find out?” I reply, arching my brow. “The two of you have a lot of explaining to do, Spencer. Everything has changed now, and you can’t pretend it hasn’t.”

  And I’m pregnant.

  That definitely changes things.

  “I’m not pretending anything,” he says, parking at his house. I open the door and follow him inside.

  “Where is he?”

  “In his room,” he says, nodding to the staircase.

  I all but run up there and open his door without knocking. I find him asleep on his bed, arm covering his eyes, and a man sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, reading a book. He puts it down when he sees me and gives me a once-over.

  “Who are you?” he asks, in a soft yet deep tone.

  “Brielle. Who are you?” I fire back, going to stand next to the bed.

  “Sebastian.”

  “Sylar’s brother?” I ask, eyes going wide. “How is he doing?”

  “He’s fine,” Sebastian says, standing. “Or at least he will be. He’s on painkillers, which made him sleepy. I’m surprised he’s told you about me.”

  “Your his brother, why wouldn’t he? And he let you give him painkillers?” I ask, arching my brow. “Sylar hates that shit. He hates losing control. He’d rather take the pain.”

  “No,” he says, lip twitching. “But he needed them.”

  “So you what? Snuck it into his water?”

  “Something like that,” he murmurs. “Nice to meet you, Brielle.”

  He leaves the room, and I gently climb into bed with Sylar, resting my head on his shoulder. I can’t explain how good it feels to be touching him again. His scent.

  Fuck.

  How am I meant to walk away now?

  I need answers, I need honesty, and I need to know why he left me.

  He hurt me, though, and who says he won’t just leave again. Who says he even wants me anymore.

  I’ll just stay and make sure he’s okay.

  Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

  I close my eyes and let the feeling of being next to him envelop me.

  Chapter Four

  I wake up feeling really warm. Warm and safe. Opening my eyes, I remember where I am. In Sylar’s bed. Sylar—who got shot. Blue eyes meet mine, and for a second, I’m struck speechless by their beauty.

  “You’re here,” he whispers, running his hand down my back. “Brielle….”

  “You got hurt,” I say, voice thick with sleep.

  “So did you,” he says, sounding sad, hands squeezing my hips. “I’m sorry I left.”

 
; “How did you get shot?” I ask him, changing the subject. I’m not ready for his apology; I’d rather hear why he did it. I need an explanation.

  “Wrong place, wrong time” is all he says.

  “Why did you come back here?” I ask, snuggling into his chest, unable to help myself.

  “I had something to do. I did it, got hurt, and now I’m back,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

  “You’re back? For how long?” I ask, tone laced with bitterness.

  He makes a sound of pain deep in his throat. I sit up. “Are you in pain?”

  He doesn’t reply, just looks me in the eye and says, “You are so beautiful.”

  “Did you just realize that?” I ask in a dry tone. Why is he complimenting me? I’d rather him tell me exactly what has happened since he left, and why he had to go in the first place. As always with him, he doesn’t say much, but the connection between us is so addicting that I end up wanting to be near him anyway.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  It’s like he’s my weakness, and I don’t like that. Is love meant to be like this? It’s more powerful than I imagine any drug being.

  “No,” he says, eyes gentling, “but it just struck me again.”

  “Probably because you haven’t seen or spoken to me in months,” I reply, pursing my lips. “And now you return… hurt.” My voice cracks. “What do you want from me, Sylar? The thought of you getting shot….”

  “I’m fine, Brielle,” he says, gently rocking me and making soft noises to comfort me. “Sebastian was in trouble, and I went to help him. I shouldn’t have left without talking to you. I was an asshole, and selfish, and I’m sorry.”

  “Why did you do it?” I ask, not holding back.

  “I thought it would be safer for you,” he says, voice tinged with regret and sadness. “And….” He takes a deep breath before he continues. “I don’t deserve you, Brielle. The life I’ve lived…. Look at me. I got shot. What if you’d been with me? What if it was you who had gotten hurt? I’d never have been able to live with myself. If anything happens to you….”

  “You can’t protect me from everything, Sylar, especially if you’re not even here. And what do you mean it would be safer for me?”