Destinee and Destiny Ch. 01.3-4

I was brought out of my thoughts slightly as I realized Brandon's duffel bag had been left on the floor in the chaos. A surge of energy swept over me and I crawled over to unzip it. The black t-shirt he had worn earlier was one of the first things I found, and I hugged it to my chest. It smelled like him, but the scent was hard to describe. It was male, musky-ish, a little bit of cologne, but mainly it just smelled warm, safe, strong. It smelled like the things he made me feel. That smell finally broke down the last of my pathetic attempts to not break down. I started bawling and couldn't stop until I finally passed out like that in exhaustion.

When I finally woke up, I actually felt a little better. Maybe not emotionally, but I felt like I could at least function. There was a lot that needed to be done now. I needed to find out where Brandon was, how to contact him, how to help. I also needed to get a new front door. For a brief hysterical moment, I wonder why they hadn't just tried knocking. I guess if they thought he was some dangerous criminal it made sense, but still. Breaking down people's doors is just rude. Doubtful that they were going to replace it either.

I almost put Brandon's shirt back in his bag, but an impulse struck me instead. I pull off my tear-soaked halter top and pull his shirt on instead. I've never really understood why other girls felt the need to wear their boyfriends' clothes, but it suddenly makes all the sense in the world -- even if Brandon isn't my... I just feel a little better somehow in it, protected in a small way, I guess.

My entire body was stiff from slumping on the floor all night, so I stretched for a good few minutes before searching the rest of the duffel bag. It was really just an impulse rather than trying to be nosy, maybe something in his things could help me out. Clothes, deodorant, body spray, toothbrush, stuff like that I expected to find and sat off to the side. I wasn't expecting however to find the entire bottom of the suitcase overflowing with stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

I mean, he had been honest with me about everything, but seeing the money he was payed was a different story entirely. After five years of struggling on my own just to live paycheck to paycheck most weeks, I can almost understand why he was willing to work that kind of life. I can also see why he didn't want to draw attention to himself by putting it in a bank, but still. It was beyond stupid to carry that much cash around, just asking to get robbed. I added 'find a safe place to store his money' to everything else on my ever-growing to-do list.

First things first, I need help. I have no idea what to do, I'm terrified that I'll never see him again and it'll be my fault for telling Zach. With a deep sigh of resignation, I flip open my phone and search for Brandon's dad John's phone number and call it. I couldn't tell BJ, it would break her heart. Hopefully I could trust John.

"Hey, Destinee. What's up?"

"I need your help, but I can't explain it over the phone. Can you come over to my place?"

He seemed to sense the panic in my voice because his tone sobered drastically. "Yeah, did something happen?"

"Yes. Can you not tell BJ for now? Also, can you buy a front door on your way and bring it over in your truck? I'll explain that later too."

Probably more alarmed than simply curious, he grunted in acknowledgement. "Sure, sweetie. I'll be over in about an hour then."

He hung up and I began dragging the impossibly heavy duffel bag back to my room. I needed to find a place to hide the money for the meantime, but I stuffed about two-thousand in my purse just in case. I had never been the type of person to need a safe or weapons or anything like that, so I settled for stuffing as much of the cash as I could into two Walmart totes in my closet. This was beyond ridiculous, most of it was 100's but it was still hundreds of thousands of bills.

I was just finishing up by the time I heard John call my name. I grabbed what was left of the duffel and stuffed it in the closet on top of the totes before rushing out to the living room. His face was pale as he looked around the mess of wood debris, but he gave me a big hug before asking anything. "Are you okay?"

I nodded and pulled away. "I'm fine, just a bit shaken up. I have bad news, and I can only explain a little bit, okay?" He nodded. "Brandon was arrested by the FBI last night. That's how the door got busted in."

Expectedly, John went postal. Being the fairly devout Christian man that I know, I've never even heard him so much as cuss. So, it was a bit of a shock still. When he finally calmed enough to be coherent, I stopped my involuntary flinching. "What?"

I nodded, trying to figure out how much I should explain. It wasn't really my place, but this was the FBI not just the police. I was in way over my head. "Brandon's time in Mexico. Some serious stuff happened, and he had to do some bad stuff in return." I instantly saw the horrified look and shook my head, "no, he didn't kill anyone. But he got mixed up with the Mexican cartel. He finally found a way out, more or less, but he got injured and that's when he wound up coming here."

John nodded, visibly holding his tongue to let me finish. "I've been dating this guy Zach, I've told you guys about him. Well, being the honest idiot that I am, I opened up to Zach about it. He turned in Brandon for the reward under the guise of 'protecting' me. I broke it off and kicked him out, of course, but I don't know how to help Brandon. It's kind of my fault, I'm sorry."

The tears that were threatening to fill my eyes yet again were held back as John quickly pulled me into another hug. "It's okay, sweetie, it's not your fault. Let me grab the new door out of my truck and while we install it, I'll figure something out, alright? It'll be okay."

Thankfully, installing a door is practically idiot-proof, and we were done within fifteen minutes. He took care of the remains of the old door and we began discussing how to get in touch with the FBI. It turns out neither of us had the slightest clue, and no matter how I worded my question to google, the only thing I could find was how to report someone. John was the one who finally came up with a simpler wording, and we searched for 'how to contact someone in FBI custody'. Really, I should've known simpler was better, but my panic was still getting the best of me.

Basically, the options were to contact a local field office or try the headquarters. In PA there were two local ones, Philadelphia and Pittsburgh. John called Philadelphia while I called Pittsburgh. John got misdirected for a while, but eventually they told him they had no information. I had a little bit of luck on my side, but not much. After being put on hold a dozen times, transferred, and given the run around John took the phone.

He got aggressive enough that I started to worry he was going to end up in trouble, but after another brief hold he finally got an answer. They had him. They wouldn't give us anything else. John started shouting and eventually he actually got hung up on. "Mother fucker!" he growled.

I was nearly delirious with hope instead of anger though. I knew where he was now. My mind was made up before John even handed me back my phone. "I'm driving down to Pittsburgh." Surprisingly he didn't argue or put up any fight. I expected at least a logical 'they won't tell you anything'. Instead he just nodded dejectedly.

"Okay, I would go with you, but I work tonight. I won't say anything to BJ but call me as soon as you get down there, alright? Don't do anything stupid."

I nodded and took the key for the new door before quickly gathering up some essentials. Under the circumstances, I'm sure Brandon won't mind me taking his new Spider. Door was taken care, money was hidden for the interim, we found Brandon, now just to figure out how to get him back. As scared shitless as I felt, I also felt the slightest guilty thrill rushing through me. If we somehow found I way out of this mess, me and Brandon were going to have a long talk about the way we felt. After fighting what I wanted for so long, all I want now is to wrap my arms around him and never let go.

*****

Another day. That's how long it took to finally get an answer. I had made it to the office and marched straight in, refusing to leave until I saw Brandon. I had been politely told to go screw myself essentially, but nothing was going to put me down. I booked a room at a nearby Doubletree by Hilton and bid my time. I called nonstop once I was at the hotel. I couldn't force an answer, but I could sure annoy the hell out of them. I finally got threatened at one point and gave up for the night.

The next morning, I was right at it again. Brandon had been in their custody for over 36 hours already and I was starting to get even more scared for him. This time though, the lady who picked up was extremely friendly and told me to come to the office. I probably broke about six different laws driving over there so fast.

The near-constant panic attack that had been threatening my mind the past few days was suddenly ripped away as soon as I saw Brandon talking to a friendly looking agent. He looked awful, heavy bags under his eyes like he hadn't slept at all, his usual perfect clean-cut was scraggly and his face was covered in stubble, but he may as well have been a living angel as my heart felt like it would leap out of my chest.

I wanted to run over and hug him, but whatever he and the agent were talking about looked serious by their body language and he hadn't noticed me yet. I fought my instincts and tried to be patient, taking a seat with my eyes fixed on him across the room. I could only hear bits and pieces of their conversation, but Brandon didn't really seem agitated. Actually, he looked a little afraid. That realization sent a strange chill down my spine. My whole life I don't think I've ever seen Brandon afraid before, even when he showed up with a freaking bullet wound in his shoulder.

After an hour had passed, I was ready to go out of my mind. Just when I thought I couldn't take the waiting anymore, the agent shook his hand and walked off. I shot to my feet as Brandon finally looked my way. The tired but huge grin that instantly split his face when he looked at me was like light finally reaching the darkness that had been flooding me since the conversation with the three of us. There was just him, and the warmth that flooded through me from his mere gaze.

I almost would've felt like some dorky, infatuated, little schoolgirl except the feeling was just pure bliss. I ran over and flung my arms around him, barely resisting the impulse to kiss him as he embraced me just as fiercely.

"So, little sis, I hear you were ready to crack some skulls yesterday." He let out an amused chuckle, rubbing small circles along my back. Everything he touched was like a livewire of current through the fabric of his shirt, leaving the nerves vibrating behind.

"Are you alright, Brandon? Are they letting you go?" I pulled away hesitantly, not even attempting to fight my tears this time. It was a futile effort. I was so relieved just to see him again.

He smiled and bobbed his head, "I'm fine, Destinee. It's not like they were torturing me in some back room or something. They're letting me go, more or less. They have nothing on me anyway. No last name ever used, nobody coming forward to say they saw me." I could tell there was a lot more to it than that, but let it drop.

I nodded, taking his large hand in mine. "Let's get you home then. I'm sure you're tired." He swayed a little when I started to pull him along, confirming the thought. He was quiet as we headed to the Spider and gingerly climbed into the passenger seat without complaint.

I half expected him to fall asleep as soon as he hit the headrest, not turn towards me with a serious expression. "Thank you for caring and coming for me, Destinee. I really appreciate it. I need to know what happened with you and Zach though. I can't handle seeing him right now. I honestly thing I'd strangle the bastard."

His flat tone gave me no doubt that he was serious. I didn't blame him in the least. I grinned back at his gorgeous face, imagining his surprise at what I did. "I broke his nose before kicking him out. For good."

Brandon burst into laughter so hard that he snorted. "I would serious give my left nut to have seen that. I don't think I've ever been prouder of you, sis. Good, let's go home then."

As I put the car in drive and pulled out onto the road, he was asleep in minutes. The couple hour drive passed faster than I would've liked. I just couldn't help sneaking glances every few minutes at how peaceful he looked when asleep. There was so much I wanted to tell him, but I know he needed sleep more.

I finally pulled onto my street and turned off the engine. I started to shift in my seat so I could get a better look at him but was startled to see his eyes open as he watched me intently. The bags under his eyes were better, but still pretty intense. "How long have you been awake?"

He chuckled softly, his green eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun. "A while, sorry. I was just enjoying the looks you were giving me." I felt a flush creep in my cheeks but beamed back at him. I don't think I've ever wanted someone or something so bad in my life as I wanted to climb onto his lap and make out with him.

Honestly, I was still a little scared though.

He seemed to sense my mood shift, because he nodded soberly. "Come on," he said, taking my hand. I locked his car and followed him up to my apartment. He glanced at the door curiously but didn't ask as we stepped inside and locked it. I froze a little, unsure of what to do, but luckily, he kept my hand and led me back to my room. He sat down next to me on the bed, turning to study my expression.

"So, we have quite a lot to talk about, huh?" I nodded meekly, feeling oddly shy all of a sudden. Nine years of hiding was apparently harder to undo than I thought it would be. He glanced towards the door, lost in thought for a long few moments.

"Brandon, I'm in love with you." The strength and suddenness of my own admission flooding out of my surprised me just as much as him as he finally turned back to me in shock. As soon as I spoke though, it was lime the floodgates of my mental dam were open for good now. There was no stopping it. "Hell, I've been in love with you since I met you. You somehow made a poor little trailer park girl feel like I was the most special, beautiful woman in the entire world. I know you're my older half-brother, and I know that getting jealous over Mikayla screwed things up between us. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for never being honest with you or myself and—"

All semblance of thought left me in a puff of smoke as his lips suddenly met mine. His lips were tentative at first, searching. I could feel how scared he was from just that initial simple touch. I don't know if his lips parted or mine, but a moan escaped one of us and the world just sort of fizzled away from around me.

His tongue gingerly flicked against my lips and I sucked it into my mouth with a fierce hunger. As soon as I stopped, he was picking it up just as vehemently or else our tongues would engage in a passionate tango. I really don't know how it happened, but suddenly I was on top of him on the bed, my hands snaking under his shirt to mass expanse of sculpted flesh underneath. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him, and the feeling of his burning flesh under my hands sent a massive throb down my body straight between my legs.

I moaned against him and mashed my mouth to his. There was nothing beautiful or sweet about this kiss. It was hungry and violent and filled with the release of deeply pent up longing. His hands were gentle and careful as they trailed down my spine to my lower back, pausing at the waist of my shorts. The only reason he stopped was because they were so tight that there was no admission whatsoever. I almost growled against him for stopping even though his gentle caressing was pushing me over a peak I didn't even know existed. I wanted those hands and his mouth all over my body. I wanted him to rip off my clothes, shove me on the bed and take me until my voice gave out from screaming or until I passed out. I hated when guys were rough usually, but I needed him so badly that I could barely comprehend it.

My moan turned into a throaty groan of protest as he pulled his broke away from me devouring his mouth and lifted me off of his body like I was as light as a feather. I was beyond simple thoughts. I tried to pounce back on top of him, and the bastard gently stopped me with an arm. I began to pout like a little kid until I noticed the fierce fire burning in his eyes and suddenly went ragdoll against the comforter. I could palpably see his lust, love, his longing in his gaze. It struck awe in the rational-thinking parts left of my brain. No one had ever looked at me even remotely like that before.

He flashed a handsome smile and crawled over to me, bringing his lips back to mine. Our kiss was gentler this time, the fierce hunger was still there underneath, but that look he gave me had me completely at his mercy. An unintentional giggly squeal left my throat as his hands reached down the button of my shorts. The squeal was because instead of unbuttoning them, he took hold of the waist line and ripped them off like a man possessed. The button went flying and he tore my shorts and panties down in one violent motion. God, I wanted him to shove his cock in me, or fingers, or tongue, I'd take anything right now.

He paused and pulled away to meet my gaze, searchingly. There was no need for words. Even in our adrenaline-lust fueled bestial states, he was making sure it was okay first. I'm not even ashamed that my voice comes out in a high-pitched whine, "please, god, don't stop. I need you." I was panting already, and I could feel the river of excitement between my legs already spreading onto the cover and my legs. I've never been as wet as this, but I've never been that into sex before either. It always felt good, but I had trouble orgasming unless I was using my own fingers. With Brandon though, I could already feel every muscle starting to clench and every nerve catching fire just from kissing him and feeling his hands on me. There was no doubt that my body was promising me the most massive orgasm of my entire 23-year-old life.

He nodded determinedly and gently pulled his shirt over my head before lifting me up slightly to unhook my bra. I felt no shame whatsoever as he pulled it off and threw it to the side, lifting himself back to his knees so he could take in the sight of my naked body for the first time. It doesn't matter how I thought of my own body. Looking at the hunger and longing and love in his eyes, I could feel what he was seeing.

Flat tummy, thick hips, perky b-cup breasts, dime-sized pinkish areola, tiny nipples that were hard enough to crush diamonds. He lovingly ran his hands over every inch of my chest and stomach, pinching my nipples slightly before bringing his mouth trailing around each nipple with painstaking slowness. The second his lips touched my mounds of flesh, lightning shot through my whole body, ending directly at my clit. God, all he had to do was reach out just enough to tap it and I know I'd turn into a quivering puddle of jelly.

He spent enough time loving every centimeter of my breasts until I was ready to grab his hair and shove him down. I wanted to feel his mouth on my pussy so bad. I don't even know why. I've never dated a guy who did it except once with Zach. He whined about not liking it though, and that was it.

Brandon finally began kissing down my stomach and hips, pausing to take in the sight of my mons pubis. A quiver of fear started to run down my back until he suddenly let out a soft groan almost like a growl. I squealed as he thrust his arms under me and lifted me off the bed, bringing his entire mouth over my lower lips.