Prisoned - Marni Mann Page 0,79

at the bar, or in the short time we’d been hanging out in my room.

“It’s been twelve years, Anthony. You don’t have to worry about me saying anything.”

I knew that was the real reason he didn’t want Garin around me.

“Lose him. I’m not going to say it again.”

Now, I was the one with disgust in my eyes.

I hated my brother.

I hated that he still had this power over me.

I hated that I still feared him.

“He’s going to fly me home,” I said. “Then, I’ll make sure he goes straight back to Vegas.”

“He’d better.”

As he moved a little closer to me, I finally smelled him. There was nothing clean about his scent. He reeked of cigarettes and booze and women’s cheap perfume.

“Take this as your warning.”

He was as vile as Breath.

“You don’t have to warn me.”

“I don’t?”

A pang of guilt stabbed the back of my throat. It made it too hard to control my emotions, too hard to keep my heart rate down. Fortunately, Anthony was too angry to notice the monitor.

I kept my voice low, so he wouldn’t yell at me about my tone. “No, you don’t. I know what I’m allowed to say and what I have to lie about.”

“I think you’re wrong about that. You went to a bar with him, knowing it would piss me off. Then, you left the bar with him. Where was he taking you, huh? To your fucking bed?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Do you know this is the first time I’ve been able to see you since you’ve been in the hospital? So, yeah, Kyle, I think you need a fucking warning.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been in the hospital for over eight days now. It’s not my fault that you didn’t come here to visit me.”

He moved to my side and leaned down, so his face was close. Too close…Breath close.

I had to remind myself that the prison wasn’t real.

“I came to the hospital every fucking day,” Anthony said. “Garin’s security wouldn’t let me see you until today.”

Garin’s security?

Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised, given who Garin worked for and that he was back in Atlantic City where the bosses lived and protected one another. But I was. It made me wonder if the accident had really been an accident.

“I’m sure he was just trying to keep me safe,” I said.

“From who, Kyle? From me?”

I wanted to give him an honest answer. To tell him again what kind of monster he was. That even his sister needed protection from him. But a confession like that would ensure I’d never be discharged from the hospital.

I shrugged again. “Why didn’t you just call the police? I’m sure they would have helped you slide through security.”

“The police?” He pointed at his pockets. “Do you know how much shit I carry with me?”

Shit could have been so many things—dirty money, drugs, weapons. Probably all three.

“I didn’t like being told I couldn’t see you. I didn’t like Garin controlling your medical care. And I didn’t like that he gave me a fucking hard time about leaving the room.” He pointed at me. “Once he drops you off, he’s gone. Forever.” Then, he didn’t say another word.

He didn’t have to.

The anger seething from every aspect of him said enough.

Twenty-Nine

Kyle

As we stepped up to the front door of my house, I reached inside my purse and found my keys. I was about to slide it into the lock when Garin stole it out of my hand.

“My fingers aren’t broken,” I said. “You could at least let me open the door.”

“I’ve got it.”

For the last few days that I’d been at the hospital, he hadn’t let me do anything. No one had. Garin made sure I was doted on and given everything I needed. It felt like the nurse was on-call just for me. Garin also hadn’t left my side for more than an hour or so; he was only gone long enough to drive to his hotel, take a shower, change his clothes, and drive back.

I didn’t know why he had stayed, why he insisted on flying me to Florida, or why he made sure I had everything I needed. In my mind, it was because he cared about me and wanted to spend more time with me—and because, at some point, he’d want to return to the moment we had shared outside the restroom at the bar. That was what I wanted anyway. Affection from him. Closeness. To roll over in the middle