Page 135 of Destroying Everleigh

A crease formed between my brows at that specific memory. That had happened only a few months before I caught Eve in bedwith him. I took another pull of my drink, Dakota’s infamous words flickering through my mind.

Pics or it didn’t happen.

He was the type to photograph anything he could. Even the twisted shit. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had videos of his drunken conquests. Plus, there were cameras all throughout the house and have been for as long as I could remember. So, unless someone wiped them…

I blew out a breath. Why would I even want to see that again? It was torture enough the first time. Did I really want to open up old wounds? The short answer was no. I didn’t. But there was something niggling at the back of my mind, telling me there was more to the story. But that could just be Jameson getting under my skin. Still, the burning curiosity was consuming me entirely. With shaky hands, I set my drink on my side table and pulled myself to my feet. The floorboards protested with a loud creek beneath my shoes.

Jameson and Kash would be here soon. They’d already texted me about fifteen minutes ago, telling me it was done. Worst case scenario, Everleigh fell back into her ex-boyfriend’s arms. Best case scenario, she left his ass as soon as possible.

I slipped out of my bedroom, my gaze skimming over my brother’s old door. He’d be stupid to take anything incriminating to his new home where his wife and baby lived, but he also wasn’t the smartest crayon in the box, either. He lacked common sense on the best of days. If there was evidence, it would more than likely be behind that door. Or in a secret folder within his phone. Maybe both.

I crossed the hallway and stepped inside his room. It still looked the same, just cleaner from the maid coming in and doing her job. His bed was made up, which was a rare occurrence when he lived here. His old laptop was on his desk, small specks of dust beginning to form on the top of it. I had no idea what I waseven looking for. The wall behind his bed had the most color to it—a backdrop meant for entertainment purposes. Before he got with Astrid, he’d bring all kinds of random bitches home and I assume he made video content with them.

I gently closed the bedroom door behind me, not wanting my parents to catch me snooping. They still had that bastard on a pedestal. Regardless of how many times he proved he was nothing but an impulsive fuckwit.

My fingers twitched at my sides with the urge to turn this room upside down. Sucking in a calming breath, I reeled myself in and started for his dresser on the other side of the room. Jerking open the top drawer first, I peered inside. There were a few photos in there, nothing that stood out. Just pictures of him with former girlfriends. His arm draped over their shoulders in each one. There was a pair of brass knuckles he got from our grandfather years ago, a lighter, and a couple pairs of socks he forgot to pack.

The second drawer had some clothes in it, and the last two drawers were more of the same. Some clothes he’d forgotten. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to store shit here anyways. It was the most obvious hiding spot. Sighing, I moved onto his closet, flicking on the light within it. There were a few clothes hanging, some on the floor where he hadn’t bothered to pick them up, and some shoe boxes on the top shelf. I reached for one of the shoe boxes, popping the lid off. As expected, it was completely empty. The next box had some tissue paper in it, but that was it. And the final box contained some jewelry, probably souvenirs from his past girlfriends. Theydidlike throwing jewelry in his face when he inevitably broke their heart.

Frustration tore through me as I returned the boxes to their former place and tugged the closet door closed. If I was a sleazy scumbag, where would I hide something I didn’t want anyone to see? It would have to be somewhere he knew Mom and Dadwouldn’t look. Somewhere he knewIwouldn’t look if the sudden urge developed. My gaze flicked to the bed. It was a California King bed on a sturdy box spring. There wasn’t a huge lift to it, but there was some space to put things underneath, if desired.

Deciding that was my best bet, I drifted to the massive bed. My heart was hammering in my chest from the mere anticipation of it. I knelt beside the bed, lowering my body so that I had better access and then I allowed my arm to sweep beneath the frame. Nausea twisted my stomach, images of when he used to live here crashing into me. I swear to God…if there was a dirty condom under here, I was going to fucking lose it.

My fingertips skimmed over something hard and cold, and I latched onto it, pulling it into the light. It took me a moment to process what I was seeing and then cold dread coursed through my veins when I realized what it was.

A miniature safe.

My fingers brushed over the hard ridges as I assessed it, fear thrumming through me like a violent volcano on the brink of erupting. On the downside, this thing was most definitely locked. On the bright side, the idiot got one that required a key, and it wouldn’t be hard to pick it. I lifted the metal box, the items within it sliding from the movement. Turning it in my hands, a yellow sticky note was taped to the back, making acid burn the back of my throat.

Spank Bank.

That was a good enough reason for no one to even want to look inside. Even I was having second thoughts. If this was porn…

My nose scrunched up in disgust. Why buy porn when you could watch it for free? I blew out a breath and drifted back over to his dresser where I’d seen a few miscellaneous items strewn about in the top drawer earlier. My fingers closed around what appeared to be a sewing needle and I was in the process ofclosing the drawer again when one of the bundles of socks rolled, revealing something much more shocking.

A key. How fucking convenient.

With my heart in my throat, I returned the needle and picked up the key instead. Nervous energy pulsed through me in violent waves as I made my way back to the bed. I always knew he was a damn idiot, but to literally leave the key to…whatever was in that box that he apparently wanted no one to see, was just dumb. I inserted the key into the lock and twisted. To my relief, it clicked open. The small sound was like a beacon to my blackened soul.

I wasn’t sure what I’d find in here, but something told me that if the lazy bastard who couldn’t even bother to clean his room or take dishes back to the kitchen, and went to all these lengths to hide something, then whatever was in this box was probably pretty bad.

I pried the lid open, confusion pulsing through my system. DVDs? CDs? What the hell was I looking at? There were rows upon rows of what appeared to be movies stacked on top of one another. Placing the key down on the mattress at my side, I lifted the first one.

In red, sloppy handwriting, he had scribbled the nameMauveacross the top of one of them. The name vaguely rang a bell, but I couldn’t remember shit about her, or how I’d even heard that name to begin with. Skipping over it, the next name was equally vague. It wasn’t until the nameAstridcaught my attention that I paused, my muscles locking up tight with tension. Maybe these were consensual, homemade videos. I couldn’t exactly see Astrid being into that kind of thing, but people could be much different in the bedroom than anyone on the outside realized. I set Astrid’s tape to the side and continued flicking through them. And that’s when I saw it. The video before the last one.

Everleigh.

My heart leapt into my throat, tension coiling tight within my stomach. I knew for a fact that Everleigh wouldn’t consent to being filmed. Not back then at least. Who knows what she was into now. I grabbed the video and made my way over to Dakota’s computer. I lifted the top of it, not bothering to sit down yet. This was the one he used for school, so it was unlikely to be secured with a password. I powered it on and waited.

It took a few moments, but the screen lit up, casting a faint hue around its surroundings and the top of his wooden desk. Relief swirled through me when it didn’t demand a password, and I sank into the chair adjacent to it. My phone pressed against my thigh from how tightly my jeans decided to hug my legs from the sitting position. Whipping it out, I place it face down on the desk beside the laptop. I hit the button on the side, waiting for the small tray to open. Anticipation clawed through me, sending chills skittering down my spine from the mere tension of it all.

I peeled the disc out of the clear packaging and inserted it in the side, and then I clicked a few buttons to bring it to life.

The video came into focus immediately on the screen, the camera tipping back and forth while my brother walked through the kitchen. He propped the phone up on the counter, using the wall for support. And then he was rummaging through cabinets, grabbing two glasses. He filled them both with alcohol and I watched intently as he pulled a bottle from his pocket, pills clattering together from the movement. He plopped one into the glass on the left and lifted it, swirling it around so it would dissolve more quickly.

My throat constricted, terror forcing its way through my lungs. Was that a roofie? Dakota’s smirk told me all I needed to know, but I wasn’t done watching just yet. He grabbed the phone, the screen going black for a moment. But the shuffling through the speaker told me that I was still connected. Hisfootsteps were loud against the wood as he moved through the house, the stairs creaking beneath his shoes moments later.

“I got you your drink,” he told her, followed by more shuffling.

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