My Brother's Keeper Read online

  on the end of the lounger. Addison pulled his legs up to give him room and blew an impressive smoke ring into the night

  as he rested his head on the cushion.

  “Talk to me, brother,” Brayden pleaded softly.

  “Our king is dead, Brayden,” Addison murmured grimly

  as he closed his eyes and rested his head back, squirming in that languid way that only someone trying to sustain their

  buzz could manage. “Long live the fucking king.”

  “Jesus, Sonny,” Brayden spat angrily as he looked away

  at the white tips of the waves in the distance. “Are you trying to destroy everything we’ve worked for?” he asked.

  “Worked for?” Addison spat. “Brayden, we’ve never

  worked a day in our lives. I don’t think we’d even know how,”

  he claimed as he closed his eyes.

  “You know how closely we’re being watched right now?”

  Brayden shot back at him as he reached into his neatly

  tailored suit jacket and pulled out the manila envelope he

  had been carrying with him since the night before. He tossed it at Addison angrily.

  Addison jerked in surprise and flailed as the envelope

  hit him in the face. Brayden felt a mixture of regret and

  satisfaction when he saw that the edge of the heavy paper

  had sliced a thin cut along Addison’s tanned cheekbone.

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  “What the hell, man?” Addison muttered, apparently too

  stoned or drunk to have felt it. He reached into the envelope and extracted a handful of glossy eight-by-ten photographs, squinting at them in the low light.

  Even in the moonlight, though, it was obvious what the

  pictures showed. Addison inhaled sharply and looked up at

  Brayden in outraged confusion.

  “Where did you get these?” he demanded in a hurt voice.

  “A friend took them,” Brayden muttered in answer.

  “You’re having me followed?” Addison cried as he held

  up the fuzzy black-and-white prints and waved them

  through the air. Brayden looked away from the photos and

  shook his head. He didn’t need to see his brother like that, especially not with someone like Micah Parrish.

  “You were always about the sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll,

  Sonny,” he said softly, “but does it have to be so fucking

  blatant? What if that had been the cops taking those

  pictures and not someone I trusted?”

  “You’re having me followed?!” Addison repeated in

  outrage as he tossed the photos at Brayden. They scattered

  as they hit him, fluttering to the sand around them in a

  collage of illicit activities.

  “I’m trying to protect you!” Brayden shouted at him as

  he picked up the photo that had landed in his lap and

  crumpled it up in his hand. “I’m trying to protect both of us!”

  “I don’t need your protection!” Addison shouted as he

  struggled off the lounger and to his feet. He wobbled slightly 47

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  in the soft sand, going to his knees and hanging his head as he tried to stop his world from spinning.

  Brayden slid off the lounger and knelt beside him in the

  sand, resting his hand on Addison’s back and bending over

  him to peer at his face.

  “Addison,” he murmured worriedly. “Please….”

  Addison stared at the picture on the ground beneath his

  hand. “I’m framing that one,” he stated suddenly, calm and

  nonchalant once more.

  The change in moods was jarring, and Brayden found

  himself staring at his younger brother with his mouth

  hanging open. It wasn’t any effect of the drugs or alcohol.

  Addison had always switched gears with a rapidity that

  made Brayden dizzy, even when they had been little.

  Addison looked back at him and pointed down at the

  photo. “That position is hard to get into,” he told Brayden defensively.

  Brayden couldn’t help himself. He snorted in

  amusement and flopped onto his ass beside his brother, all

  his anger inexplicably draining away. Addison shifted and

  rolled onto his back, spread-eagle in the sand and looking up at the stars as he rested his head on Brayden’s shin.

  Brayden was hit with an array of memories. His chest

  tightened, and he cocked his head to watch Addison sadly.

  How many nights had they done this as children? How many

  nights had they stared at the stars together and wondered

  where this life would lead them? How had it gone so horribly wrong for them both? His brother a junkie, and Brayden was

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  stuck in this fucking place, miserable and mean just like his father had been.

  Addison swallowed heavily and closed his eyes as

  Brayden watched him. When he opened them again, a tear

  tracked down his tanned face and disappeared into his

  hairline. He didn’t seem to notice it.

  “Don’t leave me, okay?” Brayden asked him in a hoarse

  voice. “Stick with it just a little longer,” he pleaded.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Addison murmured. He

  reached up and swiped the sleeve of his white linen shirt

  over his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Sonny?” a distant voice called from the direction of the

  club.

  Addison sat up slowly and hung his head, not looking in

  the direction of the voice.

  “We have to stick together, Sonny,” Brayden whispered

  to him urgently. “We have to button it up and stop doing

  stupid shit,” he hissed.

  “By stupid shit, do you mean Micah?” Addison asked in

  a low voice.

  “Sonny, man, if you’re out here drunk again, I’m going

  to bury you and make you up like a fucking mermaid in the

  sand!” Micah Parrish’s voice threatened softly. He was

  obviously searching Addison’s usual haunts as he moved,

  and Brayden was surprised to find that the man sounded

  genuinely concerned.

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  “You think I have to buy real friends?” Addison asked

  him bitterly. “Just because that’s how it’s always been,” he murmured as he looked out into the sea.

  Brayden opened his mouth to protest, but Addison was

  right. The only true friends either of them had ever had

  growing up had been each other. Too much money could

  isolate a kid just like having nothing could. “He’s different, isn’t he?” he whispered to Addison suddenly.

  “He’s different,” Addison nodded, his voice hoarse and

  strained.

  Brayden squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head.

  “He could hurt us, kiddo,” he reminded. “Badly.”

  “He can’t hurt us any more than losing him would,”

  Addison argued softly as Micah called out to him once more.

  “Where have you gone, Sonny?” Brayden asked

  pleadingly. “What have you done to yourself?”

  Addison turned his head to look at him, and even in the

  moonlight Brayden could see that tears were still flowing.

  Brayden couldn’t decide if he was crying or if he was just too stoned to realize his eyes were watering.

  “I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, Brayden,”

  Addi
son murmured as Brayden studied him. “Micah’s not

  one of them,” he said softly as he pushed himself to his feet with difficulty and looked down at Brayden

  “And that’s that?” Brayden asked him in defeat.

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  “That’s that,” Addison confirmed. He nodded his head

  suddenly and then turned and made his way with difficulty

  through the sand, toward the sound of Micah’s voice.

  MICAH had tried unsuccessfully to veer Addison off his

  current path, but when Addison wanted something, he got it.

  End of story. Micah merely stuck to him like glue as they

  weaved through the sweltering nightclub, hoping to prevent

  any catastrophes.

  After a half-hour of searching through the throng of

  party-goers, Addison finally found the man he was looking

  for. Micah turned away, not wanting to look at the dealer too closely, and he kept an eye on the writhing crowd as Addison made the deal amidst the pounding music and the smoke

  wafting through the air. Then Addison’s hand was on the

  small of Micah’s back, and they were making their way

  through the crowd once more to the door. They didn’t plan

  on staying and enjoying the throbbing dance club, and

  Micah was glad for it.

  Micah usually enjoyed the occasional foray into the club

  scene, but tonight the comparably cool air of the outside on his face was a welcome relief. He and Addison walked side-by-side back to Micah’s beat up old ’71 Camaro. They were

  silent as Micah drove home, Addison distantly watching the

  scenery pass by and Micah giving him worried glances as he

  drove.

  He had already expressed his misgivings regarding

  Addison’s plans for the night. They’d had a long discussion 51

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  while sitting in his car at the club, and Micah was still trying to get his mind around what Addison had told him and what

  he wanted Micah to do. Micah was by no means averse to

  illegalities; he thought he had already proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt in some of their previous adventures. But he was averse to stupidity. And what they had just done was damn stupid if Addison’s brother was right and they were

  being observed closely by the cops.

  Micah found himself looking for a tail, but he didn’t

  know enough to be able to spot one and still concentrate on actually driving.

  He’d tried to talk Addison out of it on the way there.

  Addison was hearing none of it, though, and Micah wisely

  kept his mouth shut after his initial objections. Micah feared Addison would find someone else to go with him, and Micah

  didn’t trust anyone else to do the job. He didn’t want to think of Addison out with someone else anyway.

  Addison reached out and slid his fingers over Micah’s on

  the gear shift, but he remained quiet. The silence stretched on as Micah parked his car on the street, and they made

  their way to his studio apartment off the Miracle Mile.

  The night offered a welcome breeze that kicked up as

  they walked across the street, but by the time they had

  climbed the metal stairs and Micah had all the locks

  unlocked, they were both sweating lightly once more. It was par for a Florida course.

  Micah’s apartment had no air conditioner, just a ceiling

  fan that he clicked on as soon as he stepped into the place.

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  It began to move the hot air around as Micah closed the

  door.

  Addison walked over and pulled the chain on the fan,

  turning off the light almost before the bulbs had a chance to warm up. Micah went to the balcony doors and pulled them

  open, closing his eyes and sighing deeply as the distant

  scent of the ocean hit his face. He turned to find Addison

  watching him in the yellow light that streamed in through

  the windows that faced the street. The only sound was the

  rhythmic clink of the fan as it revved to life and the hum of the refrigerator as it worked hard to keep its contents cold.

  They didn’t say a word to each other as Addison pulled

  the little bag from his pocket and walked slowly over to

  Micah. Micah watched him almost regretfully. The really

  shitty part about what Micah knew was coming was that he

  knew he’d enjoy it; that he’d give Addison exactly what he

  was seeking and never really even regret doing it.

  Even now, his forebodings were lessening and being

  replaced by a dull sense of anticipation.

  Addison stepped up to him and slid one hand around

  the back of his neck slowly, bringing their bodies closer in the stifling heat of the little apartment. It was the sort of humid night that made you want nothing more than a cool

  shower and a clean set of sheets to sweat on. But Micah had always been of the opinion that if you were going to sweat

  anyway, you may as well be enjoying it. Luckily, Addison

  shared the opinion. In fact, Micah was pretty certain that

  being marginally uncomfortable and hot turned Addison on

  even more.

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  Micah tugged him closer and kissed him hungrily. The

  sweat on their bare skin stuck them together as they

  touched, but neither man seemed to care. They had still not spoken a word to each other, not since Addison had

  instructed Micah to drive to the nightclub. They had reached a point where they knew what they wanted. Neither man

  needed to speak.

  Micah suddenly pushed him roughly away and looked at

  him intently as his hand moved to unbuckle his own belt.

  Addison watched him, expressionless, for a long moment

  before smirking crookedly and backing away.

  He walked over to open the windows, pulling up the

  blinds and pushing the windows as wide as they would go as

  he worked on removing his own shirt. He dropped it on the

  floor carelessly as he moved. Micah watched it flutter to the white tile and then looked back up at Addison as the man

  continued undressing and walking to each window to open

  them. With the last window, Addison turned and met his

  eyes, and he kept them on him as he moved.

  Micah followed him toward the bed slowly, like a lion

  stalking a human, knowing he could devour him but

  somehow sensing that he could be hurt in the ensuing fight

  as well. Addison was just unpredictable enough to keep

  Micah on his toes.

  When Micah reached him, Addison took hold of his shirt

  and pushed it up, giving Micah one last open-mouthed,

  messy kiss before lowering slowly to his knees. On his way

  down, he kissed at Micah’s chest and stomach, licking at the sweat along his defined muscles.

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  Micah closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting

  Addison sink in front of him without touching him or trying to stop him. Addison’s hands pulled at Micah’s undone

  khakis and tugged them down, followed soon after by his

  boxers.

  Micah looked down and watched as Addison licked

  slowly at the head of his cock, as if testing to make certain Micah was ready. He looked up at him, met Micah’s eyes,

  and then gave another of his crooked, mischievous grins.

  Micah
swallowed hard and placed a hand on the top of

  Addison’s head.

  Addison licked him up and down before pulling out the

  bag he’d been holding and tipping out some of the white

  powder onto the head of Micah’s cock. Micah held his breath as he watched, trying to remain motionless where he stood.

  Addison used his free hand to pump Micah slowly as he

  tipped out more and then bent his head to spread it with his tongue.

  Micah exhaled slowly, licking his lips and restraining

  himself from thrusting into Addison’s mouth.

  As soon as Addison was satisfied with his work, he set

  the baggie on the floor beside him and took Micah between

  his lips slowly. Micah grunted quietly as Addison’s warm

  mouth enveloped him, and he watched raptly as Addison let

  his cock slide in. He knew Addison was teasing him, and he

  planned to enjoy it while he could. Soon the cocaine on his skin would numb him, and he would only be able to feel the

  vague suggestion of what Addison’s tongue was doing to him.

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  That vague suggestion and watching Addison on his

  knees would keep Micah maddeningly hard, though. Hard

  enough to fuck Addison for hours after the other man’s high set in.

  Micah reached down and ran his hand along the side of

  Addison’s face and through his hair to grip it tightly. Addison never stopped what he was doing. Micah could already feel

  himself going numb where the cocaine had touched him, and

  he groaned in welcome frustration.

  The frustration was part of the appeal, after all.

  As soon as he made a sound, Addison let him slide out

  of his mouth, and he stood, licking at Micah’s stomach and

  chest again as he gained his feet once more.

  They stared at each other in the insidious yellow light,

  hearing nothing but the sounds of the late-night traffic and the comforting clink-clink of the fan overhead. Micah

  reached for the other man and slid his hands down the sides of his torso to his hips and back up again, just enjoying the way Addison felt in his arms.

  Addison raised his hand wordlessly and showed Micah

  the two fingers that were still laced with the white powder in an incongruous peace sign. Micah cocked his head at him

  and parted his lips slightly, and Addison ran his fingers