Page 29 of The Cousins and the Brunette

Sebastian stood with his arms crossed, his normally peaceful expression now tinged with a hint of determination. His eyes flicked back and forth between the imprisoned figure and my own.

In contrast, the woman in front of us seemed guarded, her shoulders squared and her gaze challenging. Despite the bars between us, I could see the fire in her green eyes, a stark difference from Elizabeth Shoemaker’s cool blue ones.

I had to hand it to her—she had nerves of steel. But so did I, and I wasn’t about to let her off easy.

“Start talking,” I demanded, leaning forward. “And it better be good.”

I stood outside the woman’s cell, my hands clenched so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The dampness of the basement choked the air. I unlocked the cell door and it swung open. The woman inside hesitantly stepped out.

Fuck, I hated this place. The musty stench of desperation clung to everything.

Sebastian reach out and his grip on her arm was vice-like, his face contorted with an anger I’d rarely seen in him. Beside him, Braxton’s fists were tight, his usual playfulness gone.

“Who are you really?” My voice echoed against the cold stone walls, each word a hammer striking steel. “We know you’re not Elizabeth Shoemaker. So who the hell are you?”

Her eyes flared, the green in them almost luminescent against the overhead lights. She took a step forward, her chin raised. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, huh? Big man Joel Porter, always in control.”

Oh, sweetheart, if you only knew. Control was an illusion I’d perfected, a mask I wore to hide the turmoil beneath my facade. But damned if I’d let her see that now.

Sebastian’s grasp tightened, his jaw set hard. “This isn’t a joke. You’ve lied to us, manipulated us—”

“All right.” Her voice broke, and she looked away for a fleeting moment before meeting my gaze again. “My name...my name is Brynn Soto.” Tears began to well up in her eyes, spilling over and tracing paths down her cheeks.

A hush fell over us, even the ever-spirited Braxton falling silent. Something about the unrestrained emotion in her expression made me pause, despite the indignation coursing through me.

Well, shit. This wasn’t how I expected this little interrogation to go. Brynn Soto? The name meant nothing to me, but the raw pain in her eyes...that was all too familiar.

“Mr. Shoemaker...he came to me with an offer.” Her words tumbled out between sobs, every sentence punctuated by tears. “He promised to pay a hefty sum of money if I agreed to pretend to be his daughter. It meant security for me and my sister, Kay. We had nothing, nowhere to go. He said all I had to do was pretend, just for a little while...”

Sebastian’s grip on her arm loosened incrementally, each of his fingers unfurling as if they were compelled by her every word.

I felt my own resolve wavering. Damn it. I’d seen enough cons to last a lifetime, but this... this felt different. The desperation in her voice struck a chord I thought I’d long since silenced.

“Kay means everything to me,” Brynn continued, her voice cracking. “And I—I thought I could give her a better life. It was supposed to be simple. But there’s nothing simple about lying every day, and worrying if today’s the day you’ll be caught.”

“You have a sister.” Braxton’s eyebrows knitted together, his snarky humor replaced by something softer, more human. “Where is she now?”

“Safe with a friend,” Brynn whispered, her tears drying up. “At least, I hope so.”

I watched her, the anger within me wrestling with the unexpected twinge of sympathy her story elicited. This wasn’t part of the plan; emotions were never part of the plan. But standing in the dingy, dank basement, facing the shattered visage of a girl who’d gambled everything for family, for love.

Fuck. Why did she have to mention a sister? It’s like she knew exactly which buttons to push. I could feel my resolve crumbling, and I hated it. Hated her for making me question everything. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Dammit,” I muttered. Whether it was frustration or something else, I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that the lines between right and wrong had blurred, and I hated it. I hated her…this Brynn Soto, if that was even her real name. She could still be lying to us.

My mind was a battlefield, loyalty to my family warring against this unwelcome spark of empathy. I wanted to shake her, to make her take back every word that was making me doubt myself. But I couldn’t. And that pissed me off even more.

“This is nonsense,” I snapped, my voice echoing off the cold concrete walls. “She’s played us all for fools.”

Sebastian’s stern gaze softened as he studied Brynn. “Joel, she’s just—”

“Cut the crap, Sebastian!” My words sliced through the room like a knife. “We can’t afford your bleeding heart right now.”

Braxton, usually the light-hearted joker of our trio, shared a long look with Sebastian. Their silent exchange spoke volumes, and I could practically hear their thoughts aligning in sympathy for Brynn. It was infuriating.

Now I’m the bad guy. Just because I’m not ready to roll out the welcome mat for Little Miss Lies-a-Lot. When did I become the villain in this twisted story?

“Look, Joel,” Braxton said, his voice uncharacteristically serious, “we’ve all been pawns in Shoemaker’s shit show. We’re angry, sure, but she’s not the real problem here.”

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