Page 58 of Whatever It Takes

He looked at me with tension in his jaw. His eyes shifted around the room. “Fine. Let’s see if we can find a place to talk that’s more private.”

I didn’t like the way this was going, but I remained calm and followed his lead.

He turned on his foot as we moved through the club. His tall height pushed through the room, making people clear a path so he and I could pass with ease. His steps were filled with purpose. He was in protective mode. Ever since we were kids, he always looked out for me, even though I was big enough to handle my own battles.

I caught a couple curious stares from our friends as we passed by. I felt like shit that I was taking him away from his bachelor party. He should be throwing back shots and getting lap dances, instead of worrying about setting me off. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut that this was something big.

We scouted out two seats at the other bar set up by the back room. He crossed his arms and I did the same. Brody would never lie to me, but I wasn’t convinced that he would tell me everything either.

He uncrossed his arms and slid his hands into his back pocket. A moment passed and then another. I arched my eyebrow waiting…

“Spill it, bro.”

He cleared his throat. “Marco and the US Marshals followed up on a lead this week,” he said, inching closer to me.

The seriousness in his voice sent chills up my spine.

“Yeah, I’m aware.” I ran my palm across my jaw. “Marco has been dodging my calls all week.” I assumed the reason he was ghosting me was because the lead ended up in a dead end. Now I wasn’t so sure.

My brother was silent before he continued. “This is serious, Quinn. I want you to listen to what I have to say and promise not to lose your shit. I need you calm and focused.”

His warning was clear, but I wasn’t guaranteeing anything. “Tell me. Please.”

“They met with one of Grant’s law school buddies who was very chatty.” My eyebrows rose, signaling for him to continue. “Grant reached out to him recently, looking for some help. The guy’s got a family and isn’t looking to be dragged into his friend’s drama, so he refused to help Grant when he called.”

I leveled him with a hard stare. “Care to elaborate on why he didn’t report that to the police?”

Brody pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it up. “I’ll get to that in a minute.” He dragged his cigar to his lips and let out a huge puff of smoke. “Thompson is good with getting people to talk, as you know. They interviewed him for hours, no break, nothing. The guy’s a lawyer, so he knew the deal. Once they started talking about filing charges for not reporting the phone call, he started singing like a bird.”

I was on the edge of my seat while he casually rotated the cigar along his lips. He swirled the smoke around in his mouth before letting it out.

“Can we move this story along, please?” I moved my hands around, gesturing for him to get the hell on with it.

“Brace yourself.” He turned around and flicked the ashes from his cigar into an ashtray.

“Brody, I swear to fucking God. Get to the goddamned point.” The frustration in my voice was clear. I plucked the damned cigar out of his hand and stabbed the hand-rolled Cuban into an empty glass filled with ice.

He watched the flame go out and let out a long heavy sigh. “When you broke up with Charlotte, Grant knew she’d never be with him willingly. Not when she was still hung up on you. But he was starting his job at the District Attorney’s office and moving out of the apartment he rented across the hall from her, so he knew he didn’t have much time.”

“Much time for what?” I asked, running through everything he had just told me.

He stared past me with a solemn look on his face. “To make her his.”

My conversation with Charlotte that night at the diner came rushing back to me. “Are you talking about the night that she got drunk and slept with him?”

He nodded while dragging his thumb along his bottom lip. “He spiked her drink.”

A chill swept into my bones. “I’m sorry. Repeat that, please.”

“His friend was there that night. He saw Grant score a roofie from a known dealer. When his friend confronted him about it, Grant blackmailed him. Apparently, the friend was cheating on his girlfriend at the time and didn’t want any trouble.”

His words churned in my stomach. Visions of him violating her flashed in front of my eyes. It took me a minute to compose myself. “Are you telling me he raped her?”

The muscle in his jaw pulsed. I could see the veins in his neck expanding. He knew what Charlotte meant to me. How this news would impact me. “I’m so sorry, man.”

“No.” I shook my head. I wanted to kill him. Make him pay. Have him on his knees begging for mercy. Charlotte would be devastated.

He leaned in and gripped my shoulder. “You can’t let your anger get the better of you. I know you already have killed him in your head at least a thousand times.” Oh, he had no fucking idea. Grant Anderson would die a slow and painful death when I was done with him. “Listen to me,” he said sternly. “Letting your personal feelings control your thinking will get you nowhere.”

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