Perfection.
I jumped to the wardrobe and opened it. I moaned in pain at the smell. Malcolm had always been such a boy, but there was enough musk and yuck from the gear and boots to wake the dead in here. How could he live like this?
My nose crinkled as I dug through the leather jackets and jeans. There was nothing in the pockets. I looked down, preparing for the worst. With that smell, I wouldn’t be shocked if I found a dead body.
Carefully, I pushed away some boots and worn out gloves. No drug stashes or boxes of psycho killer’s souvenirs. No guns. No rotten corpses or skeletons whatsoever.
“Hmmm…This looks too good to be true. Where are you hiding your shit, VP Dasher?” Disappointed—yet secretly thankful—I rose and went to the windows for some air even if they were shut; I was getting intoxicated on the smell.
Then I went through the dressing table drawer. My eyes grew wider as my fingers ran between abandoned flash drives, a few stranded silver bullets, and a plastic bag with something that looked like more yellowish than green cannabis inside.
I opened it and dipped my nose in. It didn’t smell like weed, and on a harder examination, it didn’t look like it either.
What was that? A new kind of drugs? Did he sell it or sniff it?
I placed the bag back in the drawer. What had you gotten yourself into, Brother?
Despite how enraged I was, in my heart, I was hoping beyond hope the Blood Demons weren’t what I thought they were. I’d have loved to be wrong about my assumption, but all the evidence pointed toward one thing. My brother was involved with a gang, and I now lived in its lair.
Not for long.
I might have come here to make one asshole pay for his mistakes, but now, it seemed like it would be more than one. I wouldn’t rest until I kicked these ugly—ridiculously sexy—douchecannolis out of my house and saved my brother from them.
My lips pursed as I contemplated taking one of the flash drives to see what was on it. My hand moved forth, but I hesitated, afraid of what I might discover.
Shaking, I snatched one and pushed the drawer shut. Then I grabbed my tote that lay on top of my suitcase and got my laptop out.
As I waited for it to open, I sat back on the bed, tapping my fingers on the keyboard. As soon as the opening music flared, I shoved the flash drive in its slot. It loaded ever so slowly, killing my nerves one by one, until it finally opened.
One video file appeared in the folder. My eyes squinted at the screen as my finger dared click.
Dun! A message appeared asking for a damn password.
My lips moved with a silent swear as my shoulders slumped. I thought about trying out a few guesses on the password but dismissed it. Multiple errors and it could lock me out or permanently destroy the file. Perhaps I should take it to one of the techs at the university.
I returned my things inside the tote and hung it on my shoulder. Then I spied behind the wardrobe, feeling up the wall. “Please be there.”
I wondered if the rest of the gang knew Mom’s room and Malcolm’s were connecting ones. When Dad passed away, my brother had moved from his room upstairs to this one in case she’d needed anything.
The wardrobe was moved strategically to hide the door that opened to Mom’s room, though, so he probably was keeping it a secret. Or he’d just removed it.
My hand balled into a fist and knocked on the wall where I remembered the connecting door was located, debris filling my nostrils. Until I hit a hollow patch. “Yes.”
I pushed my back against the wardrobe, straining my muscles. Damn. I needed to start working out. The wooden lump screeched as it moved just enough for me to squeeze my big butt between it and the wall.
Covered in dust and pain, I inspected the paint. The room had always been painted purple, but the door was brown. The old purple shade covered the entire wall now. No hinges, knobs or any sign there had been a door here.
I knocked around again, hope slipping fast as the hollowness echoed back yet nothing showed me how to find the damn thing. I kicked and pushed the wall, slamming my feet and shoulders. Out of breath, sweat trickling down my temples and the back of my neck, I closed my eyes and rested my palms and forehead on the wall. My hands slipped down and…
A gasp escaped me as they sank into the purple. A rough squeak came from the forming opening in the wall. “Ooo-kay. That’s new.”
I pushed farther what used to be a regular door. It looked like Malcolm had changed it into a more covert one, hidden from all eyes. But why? Why did he keep staying here instead of moving back to his old, bigger room upstairs? And why was he hiding this door? So he could go into Church whenever he wanted? He was the VP. He already had access.
Unless this hadn’t always been the case or…he needed access from his room to where I was going. The vent in the ceiling that led to the second story roof and porch. Where I could go down to the stone path and sneak out of the backyard through the woods.
But why hide the only escape route in the house from your gang?
Did he not trust them enough as he demonstrated?
