The Contract by Gerald Seymour

Author:Gerald Seymour
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2013-09-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Four days was a long time to stew over how exactly you had managed to so monumentally ruin the experience of your first teacher-student orgasm.

Lane had no idea what to expect from Adam when he arrived, test results in hand, on Wednesday night, as scheduled. But she’d put on one of her new dresses, and had left her hair out the way Adam seemed to like it. Then she had a quick nip of Erica’s vodka, and figured she was as ready as she would ever be to face whatever Adam was going to throw at her.

So it was anticlimactic to answer the knock on her door twenty minutes before Adam was due to arrive and see her brother.

“New clothes. Nice,” Brad said, eyes running quickly, impatiently, over her.

Without waiting for an invitation, he shuffled past her, into the house. “Lane…” he began, as she closed the door, giving her the look she knew so well. Half sheepish, half defiant.

“How much?” she asked.

“A thousand.”

“You promised you’d stop gambling.”

“And I will. As soon as I pay the bookie, I’m done.”

Lane checked her watch. “I’ve got a…a date. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

The momentousness of Lane having an actual date was lost on Brad. “I have to pay it tonight, Lane. They’re kind of…looking for me.”

“I don’t have a thousand dollars on me, Brad,” she said.

“But you can get it, right?”

“I told you, I have a date.”

“Please, Lane.”

Lane blew out a long sigh. “I’ll have to go to a money machine.” She checked her watch again. Adam would be here in fifteen minutes and she didn’t want the two men to meet. “Come with me.”

“Can’t I wait here? I’m kind of hungry, so I can just grab something to eat while you’re gone, and I’ll be out of your hair the moment you’re back.”

Insisting would make Brad dig in his heels—he was like that. Which would waste more time. So Lane simply grabbed her car keys and left the house. She should be able to get the money and clear Brad out of the house before Adam arrived.

A few minutes later, she pulled up in front of the closest ATM and noted the red “closed” flag with a sinking heart. She restarted the car and headed for the next one.

* * *

Adam stepped back in surprise as a strange man jerked open Lane’s door before he could knock, demanding, “Have you got it?”

“Got what?” Adam asked.

The man—no, he was more like a sulky teenager—frowned. “Nothing. I thought you were Lane. You’re her date, then.”

Adam recognized the face now. It was the man in the photograph in Lane’s bedroom. “Yes. Adam Quinn. And you are…her brother.” He reached into his memory banks for the name. “Brad, right?”

“Yep.” Brad made for the dining room, leaving it up to Adam whether he followed or not. No way was Adam not going to follow—he was curious as hell—but after he detoured to put the champagne he’d brought in the kitchen.

Brad lifted a bulging sandwich off

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