Page 26 of The Devil's Daughter

Baz

It’sone thing to find out my twin slept with the girl of my dreams. We’ve never kept from each other how we feel about Elle, and until now she was equally inaccessible to us both as any more than a friend. So I don’t begrudge him the pleasure of being with her, especially knowing that she’d have given herself to me too, if I’d been here.

But a vicious claw grips my guts and twists when I see how cozy she is with Drake. I see red, and not even Ben’s hand gripping my shoulder to hold me back can cool me down.

“Baz, let me explain,” Ben says. “It’s not what you think.”

“The fuck it isn’t,” I snap, tearing away and rushing toward the table. For the first time in my life, I understand where Ben’s temper comes from. I’m usually the cool twin, but right now, the only thing on my mind is crushing that bastard for touching her.

They hear me coming a split-second before I reach them. Drake scrambles up like the guilty bastard he is and lifts his hands. He utters a curse as my fist comes swinging, barely managing to dodge. My knuckles graze his cheek, and he lets out a growl before lunging at me.

But the asshole isn’t fighting. Why the fuck isn’t he fighting?

Instead he grapples me around the waist, shoving me across the deck. He’s strong, tackling me like a linebacker even though he’s built like a quarterback. I lose my balance and fall against the outdoor sofa that butts up against the rails.

Ben’s at my side, holding me down when heshouldhave my back. He should be laying into Drake for daring to lay a hand on Elle.

“Let us fucking explain, okay?” Ben yells.

My pulse throbs in my ears. “Explain what?” I grit, struggling against them. The anger is already fading at the sight of Elle standing a few feet away, shock and worry etched on her face.

I’d rather be pissed than feel whatever sick feeling is rising as my rage dissipates.

“Elle,” I plead. “Do you know what kind of sick fuck he is? How could you?”

Drake growls, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

I turn and sneer at him. “I found your secret stash. The old drive you had locked away in your office safe.”

He blinks down at me in shock. “You got into mysafe? How?”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is what was inside it. Why don’t we go take a look? Show her how depraved you really are?”

He bares his teeth, but surprisingly lets me go. “Fine. You want to dredge up ancient history, be my guest. It’s not going to change a goddamn thing.”

He darts a pained look at Elle as if he isn’t so sure. This is likely to hurt him, but he’s letting me do it anyway? That doesn’t track.

He paces away and Ben eases back onto the sofa, leaving a hand on my shoulder as if he isn’t sure I won’t attack Drake again. “Did you really break into his safe?”

“Yeah. I’m going to owe Trinity a favor, but she won’t talk,” I say, referring to one of our underworld acquaintances who’s always good in a pinch when we need to open certain doors, including doors to most safes.

“That’s pretty low for you.”

“I wasn’t about to leave any stone unturned. And I found some fucking creepy shit.” I stand, eyeing Drake as I walk to the pile of my stuff I left just behind the buffet table when I arrived. I dig out my laptop and bring it back to the sofa, setting it on the coffee table and opening it up.

Drake has gone pale, and he glances at Elle before shooting a beseeching look at me. “Please. Wait.” He holds out a hand to stall me, then swipes it over his face. “There is context for what’s on that drive. I wish you’d just fuckingaskedme before digging.”

Elle’s the one scowling at him now. She crosses her arms and glares. “Yeah? You haven’t exactly been forthcoming about your secrets. Will you tell us now? Or let us draw our own conclusions from what Baz found?”

“It’s fucking complicated,” he snaps. He grinds his teeth, nostrils flaring, then spins on his heels and paces to the railing past the table. He lets out a frustrated roar as he smacks the hollow steel bar, and it emits a metallic echo.

There aren’t really a whole lot of ways he can justify what I saw, and I’m sure he knows it, but I close the laptop and sit back. I’m enjoying watching him squirm.

“Fine. We’ll wait to look, but you’d better start talking.”

He turns around and stares, first at Elle, then at Ben, his expression one of tortured longing that has me raising my eyebrows. When I glance at Ben, his eyes are locked with Drake’s, and I recognize a heat I normally only see when he looks at Elle. It isn’t anger or worry, but something else entirely. My brother left out someseriousdetails about last night, based on that look. I’m more tempted to make them explainthatthan Drake’s stash of questionable videos.

Elle chooses that moment to move toward the sofa. Ben shifts over, and she settles between us as if that’s the only place available for her to sit. It isn’t, but it feels right for her to be there, her soft warmth so close in her sheer sundress. From this angle I catch a glimpse down the front of an already low-cut bodice and realize she isn’t wearing a bra. It’s an effort to redirect my attention to Drake.

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