I rub my hand through my hair roughly as a headache begins to pound through my skull. I am pretty hungry. Not really sure the last time I even ate, to be honest. It doesn’t hurt that my presence usually ruins Ryan’s entire day, and I’d be a liar if I said I don’t get enjoyment out of that knowledge.
Thoughts of River come filtering in with that thought, ruining the satisfaction. When Ryan has a bad day, everybody suffers for it. Especially his girlfriends. For a split second, I think of telling Ryan about her, but I roundhouse kick that idea out as soon as it enters my head. I won’t use her as bait to piss him off.
Not when she’ll be the one to suffer the consequences.
“Alright,” I concede. “Be there in fifteen.”
“WHERE’S RYAN?” I ASK nonchalantly around a bite of my BMT sandwich.
“He’s holed himself in his office for the past hour,” Dad answers, shrugging his shoulders. He doesn’t seem concerned. Typical life of a lawyer, I suppose. I’m no stranger to Dad locking himself away in his office when dealing with a particularly brutal case. Those days, the light in his eyes was always dimmer, but somehow, he managed to push through and smile for Ryan and me. Even when he was up to his ears in stress, he’d still take the time to toss a ball outside with us or teach us how ride a bike.
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He’s the most resilient person I know.
“So, Amar, how’s Clara been?” Dad asks, his bright blue eyes sparkling and shit. He’s always been a sucker for love. Hard not to be when you’ve been happily married to your soulmate for over thirty years.
Clara is Amar’s wife. They’ve been married for fifteen years and aside from my parents, I’ve never seen a couple more perfect for each other. Where Amar is quiet and calm, Clara is loud and bubbly. They give me a real hope of finding the one or whatever the fuck the kids say nowadays.
I’ve had a lot of good role models in my life when it comes to relationships. Not sure how the fuck Ryan ended up so jaded.
I take the last bite of my sandwich as Amar answers my Dad. It’s the only time I see Amar’s eyes light up.
“Be right back,” I mutter. Neither of them pay me any attention.
I gun straight for Ryan’s office. I’m already preparing myself for some type of confrontation. I don’t know why I even bother going around him. Ryan isn’t capable of treating me like anything other than shit, and it always ends in me instigating him and then him kicking me out.
It’s not like I haven’t tried to get close to Ryan, it’s just that he’s made it fucking impossible to. The asshole has done nothing but torment me our entire childhood. Not that I ever rolled over and took Ryan’s shit, but no amount of ass beatings made Ryan hate me any less. His hostility has only grown stronger over the years, and I don’t give enough of a shit about him to try and repair it. I tried that once years ago and I’ll never make the same mistake again.
Dude’s had a chip on his shoulder since I can remember. I’m bigger and older, but Ryan never cared. He’s like a fucking chihuahua, a small little shit that acts like they have a big bark and tries to lord over everyone bigger than them. Most of Ryan’s life, it’s worked too.
Just not with me. Never with me.
The entire front of Ryan’s office is all window, except right now he has the blinds shut. I stand outside his door for a moment, debating whether I should just be an asshole and barge in or knock. Either way, he won’t be expecting me. It’s very rare that I visit Ryan when I have lunch with Dad.
Which is often enough that Ryan has started closing his blinds around this time. Petty fucker.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice one of the blinds is caught in the sill, allowing a small window of space to look in his office. I walk closer, bobbing left and right until I can get a good angle. I never said I was above spying on him. I am a fucking detective after all. Being nosey is in the job description and my asshole of a brother commits enough crimes on daily basis to warrant it.
A growl nearly escapes my throat when I finally get a good angle. Spread eagle on his desk is his secretary. In between her legs is his head gripped tightly in her cherry red talons. Her head is thrown back, her slender throat rippling with moans as he goes to town on her pussy.
My spine snaps straight and I have every intention of storming the place.
He’s got a beautiful girl at home that treats him far better than he deserves, and yet he still fucks around. Can’t say I’m surprised. If anyone would treat a girl like shit, it’s Ryan. He treated Alison like dirt for years, there’s no reason he’d treat River any differently.
I can’t count how many times Alison cried on my shoulder, sunglasses covering her blackened eyes and her arms stained with bruises. He gave her chlamydia for god’s sake, after they’ve been dating for two years. I wanted to put him away for domestic violence every time, but Alison always refused to press charges. She was too scared. I was willing to take it further for her and press charges anyway, but she begged and pleaded for me not to. She wasn’t ready to leave Ryan yet, and if it came back to him that he was being charged for domestic violence, we were both scared that he would make her disappear. Permanently. If anyone has the connections to make it happen, I’d trust Ryan to be one of them.
So many times, I had encouraged Alison to move on from him at least, find someone better. Someone who wouldn’t cheat on and abuse her. At one point, she had asked if that someone better could be me. I had said no. She was a sweet girl, but I felt nothing more towards her than genuine concern and friendship.
But the more I intervened; the worse Ryan treated her. The abuse became more violent and bruises turned into broken bones. There was always an excuse ready on the tip of her tongue, but she only tried pulling that shit with her very concerned friends. Eventually, I learned that if I was going to help her, I couldn’t do it right in his face. The day she finally escaped from him, I felt an entire weight come off my shoulders.
That is, until River came in the picture. Now it feels heavier than ever.
“Mako!” Amar calls from behind me. I whip around, rage still painted on my face. I’ve been standing in front of his window for a solid minute now, glaring at the glass window, seething over this fucking prick. I’m sure I look like a goddamn lunatic, but I don’t care.
“You ready to jet?” Amar asks from behind me, walking up to where I’m standing. He eyes me cautiously, like I’m a bear and he’s the fish I’m two seconds away from mauling.
I swallow roughly and nod my head.