Page 69 of Takedown

“I didn’t invite you in,” I say through clenched teeth. I take a step closer and enjoy the fact that even though we look so much alike, I still have about an inch of height on him. It’s barely an inch, but I’m still taller. And broader, though I can tell he keeps in good shape.

“And yet here I am.” The voice makes me cringe. He sounds just like our dead father.

“Leave my apartment.” I step back, not wanting to get any closer to him. “I’ve told you that I’m not interested in whatever it is you’re after. And if you think I’m after money—” He holds a hand up indicating for me to stop talking, and I seethe. “Don’t silence me,” I warn.

“Why would I think you’re after money? You’ve made it clear that you’re not, and Dad left you plenty. He did a good job of hiding it, but the money trail led us straight to you.”

“Is this what this is about? You want the money? The joke’s on you, asshole, because I never wanted it, but I’ll give it all to charity or burn it before I’d—”

His brows furrow and he takes an angry step closer. I can feel the rage radiating from his body, and at this moment, I don’t care. In fact, I want him to throw a punch so I can take all my anger out on him. But it’s not his fist that he uses, it’s his eyes.

He stands still and examines my face. I feel like a specimen under his gaze. I turn my back to him, unable to stand his stares any longer. He even smells like our father.

“I told you I’d be here.” His voice sounds less smug than it did over the phone, but there’s still a hint of arrogance. “You’re taller than I thought you would be.” The tinge of amusement in his voice surprises me.

Not willing to be cowed in my own home, I turn to him. “You’re exactly like I thought you’d be.”

“So, you’ve thought of me then?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but there’s going to be a snowstorm tonight. You should just go to wherever the hell you came from before traffic in this city comes to a standstill.” I walk past him and open the door. “You’ve seen me. You want to take a picture for your sister?”

“She’s your sister too. She’s the one who found you.”

“Found me? I wasn’t lost.”

He makes no move to leave. In fact, he walks around the place, running his hands over the furniture. He even arches an eyebrow when he sees Lola.

“Why are you so hostile?”

“Why can’t you take a hint?” I ask.

“Your voice is just like his,” he says.

“No. That’s you.”

“There’s a picture we have at the house in Montauk of Father when he was around your age. You’re his spitting image.”

“Can you be more offensive?” I ask him. “You think I want to be like that asshole? You think I want to be some rich prick who takes advantage of and lie to women much younger than he is? You think I’m the type of guy who would cheat on his wife and stash another family out of sight? Hide us like we’re some dirty little secret? But it’s okay, right, because he has all the cash in the world and can write any check.”

I can feel the color creeping up my neck. The last time I got this angry was when I woke up to find my wife had abandoned me the morning after our wedding. I punched the wall then, and right now I’d really like to punch him in the face.

“No, I don’t imagine you would.” That’s all he says. Nothing more, and I find his lacking response has mollified my anger. At least for the time being. “You’re stubborn like him too.” And that gets me to take a step closer to him, ready to push him against the wall and unleash all my anger. “You don’t intimidate me. I’m the same size as you.”

“I’m taller,” I hiss. “Now, get the fuck out of my apartment before I throw you out the damn window.”

“I just got here, and I’m not leaving until we have a conversation. I told you I’d come to you. I gave you every opportunity to control the situation.”

“You gave me? I don’t need you to give me shit. You might run that damn company. You might be the mighty fucking Ethan Henry Bradford the Third, but you’re not shit to me.”

“I’m your brother,” he says, as if that should resolve everything. “We share a father. We share DNA. We share a sister who has been losing sleep for months over you. You were never our dirty little secret, only the little brother we never had a chance to know. I’m going to say it again. We just want a chance to get to know you. You can make that as easy or as difficult as you want, but we’re not going away.” The asshole finally steps away from me, walks into my kitchen, and opens my fridge. The balls on this guy. He very audaciously pulls out the half-finished bottle of that disgustingly sweet wine that Mel drinks.

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask him.

“Well, you didn’t offer me anything to drink. That’s probably not a bad thing considering your terrible taste in wine. Don’t worry. Big brother to the rescue. I’ll send you a case of the best stuff.” He puts the wine back and pulls out a bottle of water. After drinking half of it, he puts it down and starts to unbutton his coat. I’m half a second away from grabbing him by the collar and throwing him out when I hear the keys jingling in the front door.

My stomach drops at the prospect of Mel walking in on this. Of all the ways I imagined her finding out, this didn’t make the list. The plan was to sit her down and tell her, but after we returned from our honeymoon. I look around and consider throwing him in the closet, but it’s too late. The door opens and then shuts.

“Aaadam!” She does that thing where she mimics the way Uncle Finn says my name. “The grocery store was a disaster, but nineteen fifties Mellie’s going to make a delicious dinner. Slutty Mellie will take over for the dessert portion of the evening and let you have your way with her. Remember that thing you did the other night when you threw my leg over—” I know exactly what she’s talking about, and my mouth goes completely dry at the exact moment she sees our guest. She gasps and stops short at the sight of him. I run to her and take the bags out of her hands.

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