Page 26 of Black Waters

Chapter Six

Spawn

“Holy shit,” a guard uttered as he examined the younger and older versions of his boss standing before him.

My blue eyes stared into identical ones, at the identical height. Our hair was the same dark brown. Our shoulders were the same width. There was no mistaking the resemblance, and that meant my mom and the man I thought was my dad knew whose son I really was. That also meant that Crash not only knew whose son I was, but also whose half brother. Now I had to figure out why no one felt the need to clue me in on yet another fucking secret.

Still with my shirt in his fists, Mr. Thompson announced, “Marina—she—she had a son with… Ted Jones.”

My hanging jaw was not cooperating. I’d gone to a formidable place to kill a man I hated, and now had to deal with the fact that his horrid blood ran through my own veins.

Mr. Thompson—my biological father, backed away from me in complete shock. He actually stumbled, trying to get away from me, mumbling, “No, this can’t be.” He circled. “Ted’s son. This kid is Ted’s son.” He rushed back to me, looking absolutely crazed, clutching my face, yelling, “No!”

Struggling to get free of the two men still holding my arms, I yelled back, “I’m not thrilled either, you human trafficker!”

Just meeting the man—and learning he was my father—I was already experiencing a hint of Crash’s life. His fist slammed into the side of my face before I even had a chance to react. I’d been in fights through my school years, but getting hit by a pissed off, powerful grown-ass man was quite different. He paced in front of me while I spit our blood onto his perfectly laid pavers. He studied his surroundings the way my dad had in the library, full of fear. This is when I knew there was even more to be told.

Goddamn it.

“Get him inside!” My biological father yelled, his fist ready to battle the unseen.

Once inside the foyer, I was in too much shock over everything that had transpired to notice many details. History was set into motion, and there was no stopping it. All I could do was keep breathing and survive the next moment.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Crash rushed down a staircase built for a king. As soon as he saw me, he knew exactly what was happening. “Link.” Crash spoke quietly with what looked like a million thoughts racing through his brain.

“You know him?” our sperm donor yelled.

Slowly, Crash finished descending the stairs. “Yes, sir.”

The drug dealer, who only knew how to communicate through violence, grabbed Crash. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was awful to see Crash so accustomed to the aggressive treatment. His body reacted like a numb rag doll, willingly following wherever he was dragged. Crash tiredly answered with another question. “Since when do I have to tell you when I make a new friend?”

Crash was lying to his father. I knew it. I thought back to when Crash excused his guards when he first met us at the movie theater. Crash must have recognized me then and didn’t want his father’s employees doing the same. What I didn’t know was: why?

Mr. Thompson dragged Crash to me and stuck his finger in my face. “You didn’t think to mention I have a younger twin running around town?”

I knew Crash was going to get hit as soon as his sarcasm aired. “What does it matter? You never cheat on Mom, right?”

The guards struggled to restrain me as I fought to help Crash as he lay on the ground getting punched by our father.

“Stop it! Leave my son alone, damn you!” A tall woman attempted to scream but slurred instead. Needle tracks along her arm labeled her choice, and the ice clinking in her glass announced another numbing agent. She looked as if her body and face had lived a tragic life, yet she was dressed in costly clothes. I would know. My dad had my mother in the same attire, except my mother glowed. That is when I realized the love my mom spoke of receiving from my father was true love. The woman in the foyer’s light had been snuffed out a long time ago. No love.

I felt ill, knowing the destruction this one man had caused in so many lives.

Looking distraught, Mr. Thompson got off his son, who was sprawled on the floor, bleeding. He backed away from Crash. “Babe, everything is fine. Go to our bedroom. I’ll be there soon.”

The pitiful mess took a step toward the stairs and faltered. Mr. Thompson gestured with a tilt of his head for one his minions to assist her upstairs. That left me with one guard holding my arm. I pointed to Crash on the floor. “Can I help him up?”

The sperm donor looked at his boys, both of us bleeding from the mouth, and chuckled a laugh that wasn’t real. It was an exasperated push of frustrated air. “Life always finds a way, right?”

I said nothing. I had no clue what he meant.

Finally, he said in resignation, “Yeah, sure. Help your brother up off the floor.”

Crash watched me come to him as he attempted to lift himself and floundered. I grabbed under his arms and pulled him to his feet. Once he was steady again, we stared at each other in astonishment. I had a brother, and Crash had one who was still alive.

I couldn’t stop myself. I embraced him. “I missed you, little fucker.”