Pamela shook her head. “Why is Madam Alexa here?”
“She’s helping me. Don’t change the subject,” he snapped, gritting his teeth. Anger poured over him, the memories of all the nights he hadn’t been able to sleep because of the staggering guilt suffocating him. How he’d missed her—his little sister, the woman he’d seen grow up. They’d had their differences, especially after she’d become an adult, but he’d never stopped loving her. Disappointment zapped down his spine. None of it mattered, did it? The only member of his family he’d thought understood him had abandoned him.
Alexa stepped forward. “When I heard about what happened, I was worried about you. Kace isn’t known for being forgiving.”
“All of a sudden, everyone gives a crap.” Pamela walked past them, striding into a kitchen. She opened a cupboard and grabbed a bottle of Jose Cuervo and put it on the countertop. “It wasn’t personal, Brooks. I wanted to begin again, and I knew if I went through with the auction, I’d have to get rid of who I was. I wanted the money, but not the consequences.”
“Why? I could have given you the money.”
She chuckled, the bitter sound a smack in his face. “Yes. You could have given me the money. Like our daddy gave my mom money to shut her up about me. But you never gave me time—not when I needed you the most.”
“Don’t you dare compare me to him,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve been trying to find out what happened to you. You think I know so little of you, yet I knew there was no way you’d have fallen asleep at the wheel. How did you pull that hoax?”
She poured tequila into three glasses and downed hers before giving him one. Alexa shortened the gap and grabbed one, gulping it down. Hell. He took his, and the liquid burned down his throat, but not enough to numb the pain. His sister had compared him to Craig, and assumed he’d simply not search for her.
“I met this homeless woman in Vegas. A crack addict. I visited her every other day and brought her food. Two days after I had my night with the buyer, I went to take some food for her, but she’d died.”
“So you had this crazy idea of putting her in a car and driving off the road?”
“Tony thought it was crazy, too.” She grabbed the bottle and took another shot. “But I used her death to help me become reborn. I needed it, to forget what I’d done.”
“Christ.” Crashing into the gas tanks had removed any way to discover the woman’s DNA, but had left remains of a body. “You cut your pinkie?”
Tears brimmed in her eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol, but for the first time she looked at him with the same eyes as when she’d been younger. When they’d gotten along. His heart squeezed in his chest, and he almost reached out to hug her and whisper everything would be all right, like he had when she’d fallen off a horse.
A tear slipped out of her eye, but she didn’t wipe it off. “I couldn’t forget.”
“How about Tony? Is he—”
“He’s a good guy. He didn’t want me to do anything. We want to move to Colorado, but he was finishing a course to get a higher fitness certificate, so we stayed here. He told me you were asking for me a couple of weeks ago. That’s when he quit his job. One more day, and he’s done with his course and we can go.”
“When you found out I was trying to find out what happened, you didn’t consider telling me the truth?”
The vein in her neck pulsed. “I couldn’t. I didn’t know if you had talked to the police, or who else knew.”
He ran his fingers down his face. “I came to Vegas to find out what happened, and I have. I won’t tell anyone what you did,” he said.
“Thank you. I’m sorry—”
He lifted his hand to interrupt her. “Don’t.” Why waste his time listening to her about the crappy brother he’d been, and how she hadn’t considered him for a moment? His gut clenched. “My job here is done. You’re alive and well.” He nodded, more to himself than to her. She stepped forward, eyes filled with surprise, but he waved her off and headed to the door, ignoring her calling his name.
With powerful strides, he exited the apartment complex, walking briskly, even if he didn’t have a place to go. He passed the parking lot, his face tightening with sadness. What the fuck. Emotions welled up his throat, and he’d either throw up or cry.
“Brooks!” Alexa shouted, jogging to him.
He turned around. Why did she follow him? The shock from his recent discovery and Pamela’s betrayal stung him deep. One glance at Alexa and his heart skipped a beat or two. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, nearing him, her breath hoarse.
“’S okay. At least I found out,” he said.
She clapped her hand to her heart. “She didn’t do this to hurt you. I get it. She wanted a new life.”
“Fuck having a new life,” he said, his jaw clenching. The excuse once again shot an acidy taste up his chest, burning his throat. Why hadn’t Pamela said goodbye to her old life first? Why hadn’t she told him? And why did Alexa have to be so fucking worried about diplomacy at this point? “What happened with owning up to your actions, instead of fucking pretending to die to move out of state?”
Raw pain glittered in her eyes. “It’s not that simple. She went through something traumatizing, and—”
“She asked for it. No one ever held a gun to her head.” He curled his fingers into fists.
Alexa leaned closer. He didn’t need to see kindness in her expression. Not when she wasn’t honest with her own emotions. What a
