House of Payne: Styx Page 3

  “What the hell, jackass, I’m always nice.” With Trey’s pale blue eyes looking at the two of them with sharp interest, he got out a notepad and pen. “All right, let’s get down to it. How long have you known my brother, Ms. Bishop? Wait, is that Mrs. or Miss Bishop?”

  “Miss, though I don’t mind being called Ms., or even Sydney.”

  “Just call her Syd like I do, and why the hell do you want to know how long we’ve known each other?” Styx demanded, holding her closer to his side. To keep her balance, she clutched a steadying arm around his waist. “That has nothing to do with how she nearly died on I-90 earlier today.”

  “I believe in being thorough, including getting to know all about the victim. For instance,” Trey went on, turning back to Sydney with a smile that could have sliced paper, “how did you and my brother first meet?”

  “Fuck me,” Styx muttered, while Sydney all but gaped at his brother. “She’s my neighbor, like I said. I also shop at the grocery store where she works as a secret shopper.”

  “So you’ve known each other a long time, then?”

  “No.” Sydney wanted to make sure she had a voice in her own interrogation, so the word fairly shot out of her mouth.

  “Though who really knows what Trey means when it comes to a long time,” he drawled to Sydney. “He’s only known Maeve a couple of months, yet they’re getting married, looking at houses and dreaming of happily ever after, if you can fucking believe it.”

  Trey’s sharp smile disappeared, and he snapped his notepad shut. “Listen, asshole—”

  “Why don’t we go down and see the damage done to my car?” Determinedly stepping between the twins, she gave Styx a look that she hoped screamed you’re not helping. “I left it in the strip mall parking lot around the corner from Styx’s place, so it’s not too far from here.”

  The tension could have been cut with a hacksaw while Sydney walked between the two brothers as they entered the strip mall’s parking lot. Clearly there were unresolved issues between the two, but it was nothing like the issues in her family. For her, family gripes fell into the category of why she had amounted to nothing. That shouldn’t have happened, of course; she came from extraordinary people. Her mother had danced with the Bolshoi Ballet, and defected from the USSR in a dramatic escape. Her father had been on the US Olympic swim team, and he’d helped that pretty young ballerina make her escape. Her sister Roma wrote code for a company that had successfully launched several unmanned journeys into space. Her other sister, London, translated for some of the most powerful people on the planet.

  And then there was her.

  The grocery store secret shopper.

  “Sydney!”

  Her head snapped up just in time to watch her best friend, Zemi Blue-Sky, burst out of OMMniscience’s front door, dozens of braids flying and the hoops in her multi-pierced ears gleaming.

  “Zemi, what—”

  Before Sydney could say another word, Styx stepped into her path, his colorfully sleeved-out arm held straight out, his hand palm up. “Back. It. Up.”

  Zemi skidded to a halt and stared at Styx with a stunned expression that Sydney was sure mirrored her own. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m the one who’s backing you the fuck up. Who the hell are you?”

  “This is Zemi.” Before things could get any weirder, Sydney tried to step around Styx, but Trey came to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother. Like that, she had a wall of mouth-watering masculinity keeping her from her best friend. All things being equal, it wasn’t entirely awful. “Uh, hey there, Zemi. Say hi to Styx Hardwick and his brother, Trey.”

  Zemi’s normally serene liquid black eyes, handed down to her from both sides of her Algonquian and Puerto Rican family tree, burned with a flash of anger. “I’m in no mood to say hi to disrespectful assholes when I’m freaking out over my best friend’s car, which is all smashed up and abandoned in the parking lot. There was smoke coming out from under the hood earlier. I’ve been calling and calling you, but you never answered.”

  Oy. “My phone’s somewhere inside the car, Zemi. And I’m sorry I left Pokey here without any explanation—”

  “This is a public parking lot, Syd. You don’t have to apologize for parking your fucked-up car in a goddamn public parking lot,” Styx interjected, still looking like a guard dog that had somehow managed to take on human form. “As of now, you’re not going to apologize, you got that? If someone dares to act in a way that makes you feel like you have to apologize, they’re the ones who should say sorry, not you.”

  Sydney made a choking sound. “You realize that doesn't make sense, right?”

  Styx sent her a fleeting glance over his shoulder. “It makes perfect sense, because you are just about the most innocent soul I've ever met. If you feel like there’s apologizing that needs to be done, that's probably on the people you're with, not you.”

  “You don't like the way she apologizes, either?” Zemi stepped forward, the anger in her eyes fading to be replaced by curiosity. “Seriously, who are you?”

  “The grocery store guy,” Sydney blurted, exasperated and at the end of her rope. “Remember I told you about him? The frozen pizzas? Styx is the grocery store guy.”

  Zemi’s dark eyes got huge. “You mean… the grocery store guy? Oh, wow.” The last of her friend’s hostility vanished beneath the strength of her beaming, flowers-and-rainbows smile. “So you're the grocery store guy. Hi, hon, it's nice to finally meet you. And this is your brother? Oh my God, you’re twins. You didn’t tell me your grocery store guy was a twin, Sydney.”

  “I’d be willing to bet she didn’t know.” Trey stepped forward, hand out, and in a blink he was oozing charm all over the parking lot. “It’s so nice to meet you, Zemi, I’m Trey Hardwick. You’re best friends with Syd? It seems she and my brother have been seeing each other for a while without anyone being the wiser, but at least you were let in on their little secret. Styx never told me he was seeing someone on the regular.”

  This was getting out of hand, fast. “No, Trey—”

  “I had a feeling it was a mistake to call family in to deal with this shit.” Styx crossed his arms and gave his twin brother a hard stare. “For fuck’s sake, Syd needs some help, T. Are you here to gossip about my personal life, or are you here to do your damn job?”

  Trey gave his brother a dirty look. “Fine. Whatever. But we’re going to have a heart-to-heart once I’m off the clock. Does Mom know about Sydney?”

  Sydney flapped a desperate hand. “Trust me, there’s nothing to know.”

  Trey snorted. “Our mother will be the judge of that.”

  Good grief. “Uh, let's just go over to where I parked Pokey, my car, and see what kind of shape she's in,” Sydney suggested a shade desperately. “I have no idea what I'm going to tell my insurance company.”

  Trey and Styx both took their time circling Pokey, again and again returning to the rear where she’s been rammed by the Cadillac. Sydney simply stood and stared at all the damage, struggling to keep the icy horror at bay as the violence of the attack sank in.

  Pokey’s rear bumper was completely gone, no doubt somewhere on I-90. One taillight was smashed, the other simply gone, the back window spiderwebbed, and the trunk could no longer close. Even the back doors were buckled and jutting out, and something was leaking out onto the pavement.

  Pokey was gone. Sydney knew it, even without an expert there to tell her.

  As she stood there, the blood in her veins slowly iced over as she remembered how close she had come to losing control of her car. But when Trey began questioning her, she made sure the horror of that moment didn’t stop her from trying to recount every detail of what had happened. Zemi stood with her as she spoke, and when Sydney got to the part where she made the choice to fly across four lanes to exit the freeway, her friend put her arms around her and gave her a hard squeeze.

  “So,” Trey said when she’d finished speaking, “after going through all that hell, the first pers
on you thought to run to was Styx?”

  Sydney winced. “I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn't even think about how unfair it was to bring this kind of trouble to someone else’s—”

  “That's not what I'm getting at. You knew you could go to Styx, because you knew you’d be safe with him, and I think that’s awesome. I need to get a Forensics unit out here so they can go over the impact points on your car,” he went on, talking over Sydney as she tried to correct him. “In all probability they’ll be able to get traces of paint transfer, and that could lead us to the car that hit you. I just have a few more questions about the moment you left Market Place grocery store. Where do you usually park?”

  “I’m not usually at that particular store,” she explained for what felt like the tenth time. “I parked with the other employees at the back of the store. If it helps, there should be surveillance cameras for both the customer parking lot in the front, and the employee parking lot out back. That’s the common setup for all Market Place properties.”

  He made a quick note. “We’ll get our hands on those surveillance tapes, and on the transit cam video to see if we can get anything more on the car that chased you. Are you sure they followed you from the grocery store?”

  “I… Well, it's the only thing that makes sense,” Sydney said, shrugging. “I mean, they had to have followed me from the grocery store, because that's where I caught the Brisket Bandit. That’s where they would have seen me with the police as they made the arrest. Nobody else would have any reason to follow me or attack me.”

  Trey stopped writing. “So…wait. You’re saying you didn’t actually see the dark Cadillac follow you from the grocery store parking lot?”

  The question stopped her in her mental tracks. “I…no. I just sort of assumed that was where they picked me up.”

  “Why?”

  Hadn’t she made it obvious? “I’d just caught the legendary Brisket Bandit red-handed. I was the one who chased him out of the store and into the waiting arms of the police. If he had a posse, they would have seen the whole thing go down.”

  “If he had a posse? In the weeks that you’ve been trying to catch your bandit guy, did you ever find out if he had a posse?”

  “Well, no.” This was getting more and more uncomfortable. “Again, I’m assuming he had one, because that’s the only thing that makes sense. No one else in the world would want to hurt me.”

  “You sure? You don't have any enemies you can think of?”

  “No, nothing like that. I’m the world’s most boring person, just ask my family.”

  “You’re not boring,” Zemi muttered, crossing her arms and striking a hardcore sassy-girl stance. “The problem’s your family, not you.”

  Again, Trey made a note. “What about boyfriends or husbands? Exes?”

  “I’ve never been married, and there aren’t any boyfriends or exes.”

  “Girlfriends? Ex-girlfriends?”

  “No.” Until that moment, Sydney had no idea she was embarrassingly devoid of an actual social life, and she wondered if her face was as red as it felt. “I know I sound like a total yawner, but I basically get up in the morning, go to work, do yoga on the weekends, hang out with Zemi at Edibles, and that's pretty much it. I may get salty on Twitter every now and again when it comes to defending the Cubbies, but beyond that—”

  “You like the Cubs?”

  She stared at Trey as he made yet another note. “I adore the Cubs. The reason I work isn’t to put a roof over my head or food in my belly. It’s to buy season tickets. Why? Do you think that’s important?”

  “As far as I can tell, at this point Trey’s just being a nosy dick,” Styx interjected, and she glanced up at him in time to catch him giving his brother a first-rate evil eye. “You’ve been as clear as you can be about what happened, Syd, so you’re done. And you’re done talking to Sydney, Trey.” It couldn’t have been clearer that Styx wasn’t asking a question. Nevertheless, his brother looked like he had every intention of debating the point when an official-looking black van and a couple cop cars pulled into the parking lot.

  “Shit. Forensics is here, so I’ve gotta clue them in on what’s going on. But just so you know, I’m not done. Not by a long shot.” With Trey’s mouth twisting as if it was killing him to not drop all the F-bombs, he stalked off to greet his associates.

  “I didn’t know anyone could tell a cop to shut up.” She gave Styx a look that bordered on awe, because really, the man was worthy of all the awe she could muster. “That was freaking amazing.”

  “We need to talk.” Glancing at Zemi, who was also staring at him like he might possibly be a god, Styx grabbed up Sydney’s hand. “Could you do me a favor and let my brother know I’m taking Sydney back up to my apartment? He knows where it is.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Zemi said faintly, but he was already dragging Sydney away.

  Chapter Three

  “I’ve never been through something like this before, but I’m pretty positive I need to make myself available to the police for questioning. Hiding up in your apartment isn’t how that’s done.” Sydney spoke the moment Styx closed the apartment door, as if she’d been waiting until they were alone to air what was on her mind. God knew he understood. He had a few things to say himself.

  “My brother knows where he can find you.” Tossing his keys into a brass bowl by the door, Styx slid his hands into his back pockets and studied the woman who had come barreling into his life with terror in her eyes. It was those eyes—the color of sapphires, widely set and tipped upward to give her an almost catlike look—that had stopped him in his tracks. That had been weird enough; no woman had ever made him blank on how to frigging move.

  Then he'd taken in the rest of her and promptly stopped breathing.

  That was new, too.

  Maybe it was because of the circumstances. A vulnerable little thing like Sydney should never know the kind of fear he’d seen in her eyes. She was delicate, in every sense of the word, so naturally it pissed him off that anyone would terrorize her. When she’d handed him his mail, her fine-boned wrists and long, elegant fingers—with no ring, his brain had immediately noted—were poetry in motion. Her high cheekbones, heart-shaped face and the graceful line of her neck made him think of some kind of otherworldly, ethereal dancer.

  She was built like a dancer as well, with the top of her head not even reaching his shoulder. Proportionally, though, she was absolute perfection. She had long, slim legs and arms that moved in a way that made him believe she might burst into a dance at any given moment, and if he looked away he might miss it.

  So he didn’t look away.

  At this point he wasn’t even sure he could.

  “I still feel like I left the scene of a crime or something.” She dragged a hand through thick, glossy hair the color of toffee, a perfect melding between blonde and brown. When they’d been downstairs in the parking lot, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the pure gold highlights shimmering in the sun. “If I get arrested, I'm going to blame you for it.”

  “People who are victims of a crime don't usually get arrested. You’re thirsty, right?” he went on while she wandered deeper into the living room. “I've got all kinds of pop, beer, or bottled water. Or more coffee, if you want.”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” She sat on the couch—or rather, perched oh, so gently on the edge. She looked like a fragile little hummingbird about to take flight. Then she reached out to pick up a battered sketchbook he’d left lying on the coffee table, her movements lithe and graceful. Flipping through the pages, he watched as she began to smile. “You're an artist?”

  “Yeah. It's a living.” He unscrewed the top off a bottle of water and took a long swig. “I'm the best cover-up tattooist over at House Of Payne. Don’t let anyone tell you Loki’s the better cover-up artist, because he’s not. That crown belongs to me.”

  Those jewel-like eyes of hers widened as she looked up from the book to stare at him. “House Of Payne?”

  He po
inted to his shirt. “Yep.”

  “The most famous tattoo studio in the world? The place where every famous person on the planet gets their tattoos? That House Of Payne?”

  “It's not that big a deal.”

  “No, of course not,” she said faintly, and looked back to the sketchbook in her hands. “Just my luck. I guess it’s my destiny to be surrounded by geniuses.”

  “I don't know if I'd call myself a genius. No, wait. Yeah, I would.”

  “I'm a genius at being ordinary.” Her smile turned wry as she set his sketchbook aside. “But that’s cool. Ordinary people like me make geniuses like you look good. You’re welcome.”

  “You're not ordinary.” A wave of irrational irritation swept through him at her self-deprecating description, and he left the kitchen behind to join her in the living room. “In fact, you're anything but ordinary. As far as I'm concerned, you're one hell of a mystery.”

  “Me? What's so mysterious about me?”

  “The grocery store guy.” As he watched, color flooded her face. “You told your friend I was the grocery store guy, and she seemed to know exactly what that meant. What the hell does it mean?”

  She put her hands to her face. “I'm sorry—”

  “I don't want you to apologize,” he interrupted while his irritation grew. Not with her, though. He only hoped he’d one day meet up with whoever had taught her to take the blame for all the world’s problems, just so he could have the pleasure of setting them the fuck straight. “What I want is the truth. What did you mean when you called me the grocery store guy?”

  “I've seen you. At the Market Place grocery store in this neighborhood, I mean.” With a sigh, she dropped her hands to her lap and gave him a cringing look, as if she expected him to hit her. “I noticed you a couple months ago, in the freezer aisle. You were loading up your cart with a bunch of those hideous frozen pizzas.”

  He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. He shopped where she worked, after all. “So you saw me shopping. Why would you tell your friend about me?”