Page 28 of Bona Fide

“Touch someone I care about, Demi, and I’ll fuck you up in more ways than you ever thought possible.”

“Like Reagan.”

I lean forward. “Try me.”

Slowly, Phoebe’s chin lifts, seizing my attention from behind Demi. Her blue eyes stare back as she mouths, “Please help me.”

Dread pricks at my veins when I look back at the devil that I brought into all of our lives.

“Reagan has a contract,” I tell her, appeasing her for a second because I need my sister alone. “It’s up in March, I believe.”

“I want it done sooner,” she quips.

And there goes that second.

“Go fuck yourself.” I push by her, seizing my sister’s arm and yanking her into step with me.

I’m not tiptoeing around the bitch. If my sister needs to tell me something, Demi isn’t going to stop that from happening.

Through the parking lot, I find my car, where my driver is still sitting inside, waiting for me to call him up to the entrance to pick me up.

Throwing open the back door of the SUV, I order, “Get out.”

Immediately, he does, and I gesture for my sister to get inside. I close the door behind us and we’re engulfed with silence.

“What do you need help with?” I can’t help the sternness in my tone but it’s there. I have so many mixed emotions about my sister that I could never land on just one.

When we were children, we were as close as normal siblings. I used to tease her, she would tattle on me. I threatened her first boyfriend and made sure that none of my buddies touched or even looked at her.

I was that usual brother.

Until that phone call when I found out that our other sibling, Camila, and Phoebe’s twin, died from an overdose.

That I’m still struggling with.

Seeing Phoebe reminds me of Camila, obviously, and it makes the sting much more prominent. It only reminds me that I’m down a sister, and I wasn’t there to help her with the addiction she faced on a daily basis.

“Demi has been making threats,” Phoebe finally states. She’s pressed up against the other side of the car, as far as she can get to be away from me.

“Like what?”

“She wants me to catch you having…” She swallows, clearly uncomfortable.

“Doing what?”

Phoebe flicks her gaze up to me. “She wants me to film you having sex with Reagan. So that she can use it against you if you don’t do what she wants.” I perk a brow, leaning back in my seat, unimpressed.

Shit, I wish she would.

Then it would be out in the world that Demi and I have been over and Reagan Shelton is fucking mine.

“Have I ever been known to back down in regards to something like that?” I profess.

“No.”

“Then why are you wasting my time? Don’t you have a line to do or something?”

“That’s not all,” she retorts, her face suddenly twisting in disgust. It’s the first time I’ve seen any emotion since she’s been around me.

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