“Why are you doing this?” I ask and he shakes his head.
“I can’t believe it. The proof, Luke. The proof!”
I nod, my gaze flicking to Quinn’s tear stained face for a second before turning back to my brother. “What proof, Clay?”
“The proof!” he screams, waving the gun in the air as he meets my eyes. I suck in a breath. His gaze is glassy and vacant as he stares at me and I shake my head.
“You don’t look so good, brother. How much did you take this time?”
He shakes his head and begins pacing as Brooklyn reaches for me.
“Dada!” she wails. Her wobbly lip and terrified eyes rip my heart right from my chest and I’d do anything to get her away from Clay right now. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself to take it slow and steady so no one gets hurt even though every cell in my body is screaming at me to act now.
“It’s okay, baby girl,” I whisper to her, offering her a smile, but she just cries harder. “Clay, let me have the baby.”
He glances down in his arms like he’s just realizing that she’s there and stares at her for a second before he shakes his head and looks back up at me.
“She’s mine.”
“No,” I answer, shaking my head slowly as I struggle to keep my voice calm. As soon as I met Quinn and Brooklyn, I felt something settle inside me, like this little girl and her mama were always meant to be mine and it doesn’t sit well to hear my brother claim her. “She’s not.”
His brows furrow. “Yes, she is! She’s my daughter.”
“She’ll never be yours!” Quinn yells, struggling against the rope tied around her wrists and I flash her a pleading look as Clay turns to look at her. He lets out an animalistic yell before marching across the boxcar and pointing the gun against her temple.
“Shut up, bitch!”
“Clay,” I snap, my heart jumping into my throat as my thoughts screech to a halt.
No.
No.
No.
“Don’t you dare hurt her, you hear me?”
His arm goes slack at my tense tone and he nods, taking a few steps back as he whispers, “Everything is wrong, Luke.”
“How is it wrong?”
“Dada!” Brooklyn wails again and I can see Clay’s patience wearing thin as he turns to look at the little girl in his arms with a scowl. I have to get her away from him. Once I do that, we can talk and I can calm him down but as long as she’s crying, he’s going to be impossible to reach.
“Hey, Clay,” I say, talking softly as I take a tentative step forward. “Why don’t you let me hold Brooklyn so she’ll stop crying and we can talk? Okay?”
He studies me for a second before nodding and handing Brooklyn over to me. As soon as she’s in my arms, her cries quiet and relief washes through me. I nod in encouragement.
“Okay, now tell me what’s wrong.”
He runs a hand through his long greasy hair as he blows out a breath. “He lied to me, Luke. He told me he was innocent but when I got my hands on the files, all the evidence….”
He gestures wildly to the corner of the boxcar and I spot an open file. Photos of our mother are splayed across the floor and I suck in a breath.
Oh, shit.
“Where did you get those?”
He shakes his head. “This officer at the station. She was nice to me whenever I was locked up and I asked her for help.”
What the fuck?
Why would anyone, knowing how unstable my brother is, give him that file?
“Clay,” I whisper, taking another cautious step toward him. “It’s okay. I know this isn’t what you wanted but it’s not the end of the world.”
He meets my eyes and a single tear slips down his cheek. “I just want a family, Luke. Why can’t I ever have a family?”
“You have me. I’m your family.”
“No,” he seethes, his gaze dropping to Brooklyn as she cuddles into my neck before he turns to look at Quinn. “You went and made yourself a new family to replace me. And you did it with my kid.” He gestures to Brooklyn with the gun and I wrap my arm around her to shield her. “She’s mine.”
I shake my head. “You don’t get to claim her. Not after what you did to her mama.”
“What did I do to her?” he asks, turning to look at Quinn as she struggles to free her hands from the ropes. She freezes and meets my gaze as tears pour down her face. The pleading in her eyes pulls at my heart and it takes all my strength to keep my feet rooted to the ground. I have no clue how far Clay is willing to take this and I would never forgive myself if she got hurt because I didn’t have the patience to handle this situation correctly. Turning back to my brother, I release a breath.
“You raped her, Clay. Don’t you remember that?”
He jerks back with a scowl, studying me before he turns to look at her. “No…I didn’t do that.”
“Yes,” she breathes and his gaze drifts back to her. “You did.”
“I…” He turns to look at me, bewildered. “I wouldn’t…”
“I was out with my friends,” Quinn says, her voice hoarse as she meets Clay’s eyes and holds steady. Goddamn, she’s so strong. “And I went outside to get some fresh air when you pulled me into the side alley. You pushed my dress up and cut my panties off before forcing yourself inside me. When you were done, you smiled at me and left me lying on the ground, bleeding.”
“No,” he mutters, stumbling away from her before turning to me with a look of horror in his eyes. “No. I wouldn’t… I didn’t…”
“You did, Clay. I offered up my DNA to the police and it was a familial match to her rape kit.”
He takes another step back like if he can just get far enough away from me, it will protect him from the truth and I sigh. Running his hands through his greasy hair, he shakes his head and starts muttering to himself.
“Oh my god, I’m him. I’m just like him. What have I done? What have I done?”
Fuck.
This is falling apart, fast.
I glance down at the little girl in my arms before running across the boxcar and placing Brooklyn in Quinn’s lap. I make sure she gets her arms over her before marching back over to my brother and grabbing his arms.
“Hey, look at me.”
His vacant gaze flicks to mine. It’s like I’m staring at a ghost as he stares at me and I wonder if I’m already too damn late to save him.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper. “We need to go to the police but you can get through this.”
He shakes his head, ripping free of my grip and taking a few steps backward. “I read all the police reports. Mom… she had bruises all over her body. Dad had been beating her for months and then, that night, he just lost it. I remember the yelling. I remember listening to him scream at her that night. And the photos… oh, God, the photos. Mom… she looked so broken and he did that to her. Dad killed her and I…” His voice cracks as he glances over at Quinn and Brooklyn. “I’m a monster, just like him.”
“No,” I force out through the tears building in my eyes. “You’re not just like him. Listen to me, Clay. It’s the drugs. This isn’t who you are.”