The Other Brother Read online

  "It has everything to do with you," Isaiah said in a low voice. Rising, he planted his hands on the desk and leaned forward. He was so close that Gabriel could smell the peppermint on his breath. "If you hadn't been around, my father would have taken care of me and Mama. He deserted usfor you and the rest of you arrogant, spoiled assholes."

  Isaiah's eyes bore into Gabriel. The eyes of a psycho. He was the kind of man who would do anything to get what he wanted. Gabriel understood that about Isaiah intuitively.

  But Gabriel held Isaiah's glare.

  For the first time in his life, he had nothing to lose.

  "I don't need Pops to take care of you," Gabriel said. "I'm going to handle you myself. You're gonna wish you never came here"

  "Hear that line in a movie or something, little brother?" Isaiah smirked. "You don't know me. You don't know who you're fucking with."

  "No-you don't know who you're fucking with," Gabriel said. "I don't have anything to lose anymore. You hurt anyone in my family and I will kill you" Gabriel stabbed his finger at Isaiah, inches away from Isaiah's nose. "That's a promise."

  Isaiah blinked-then he laughed. He pushed away from the desk.

  "We'll discuss business later, little brother," Isaiah said. "I think I'm going to swing by the mall and buy some new threads for our birthday party tomorrow."

  Gabriel's family had planned a thirtieth-birthday celebration for him at the 755 Club. At first Gabriel had been eagerly anticipating the party, but so much terrible stuff had been going on that he'd almost forgotten about it.

  "Our birthday party?" Gabriel said. "It's my party, not yours"

  "We share the same b-day, remember? Pops thought it would be a good idea to make it a celebration for the two of us"'

  "You're lying." But Gabriel knew he was telling the truth.

  "Now, Gabe, you know how our father feels about me. I'm his firstborn."

  Gabriel got to his feet. "Get out"

  "See you at the party," Isaiah said.

  Snickering, Isaiah left. Gabriel dropped back into his chair. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  He didn't even want to think about tomorrow night, having to watch Isaiah mingle with his family and friends. The prospect was nauseating.

  He couldn't stop his father from including Isaiah in the party-Pops was footing the bill for the affair-but he had to do something to prevent Isaiah from further insinuating himself into his life. But what could he do?

  There was a knock at the door. Miss Angie came inside with a bundle of envelopes.

  "You don't look well," she said. "What's wrong?"

  "How much time do you have?" he said. Then he shrugged. "Never mind, I don't want to talk about it. What do you have for me?"

  "Lots of mail," she said. "It's accumulated quite a bit with you being in and out of the office this week"

  She deposited the mail on the desk. Turning to leave, she said, "You and Isaiah look so much alike. It must be exciting to discover that you have a brother like him, such a nice young man"

  Gabriel forced a smile. "It was a surprise."

  "Oh, certainly. But you have a wonderful family. I'm sure he's been fitting right in."

  His smile faltered. "That's one way to put it."

  Miss Angie, seeming to realize that she was treading on a minefield, excused herself and left the office.

  Gabriel began to sort through his mail. Most of it was junk: invitations to overpriced seminars and workshops, enticements to subscribe to business periodicals, resumes from individuals who apparently had done no research whatsoever on the company. Gabriel was involved in hiring decisions, and one of his responsibilities involved reviewing resumes from management candidates.

  At the bottom of the stack he found a thick nine-bytwelve envelope from Miller Investigative Research Services, Inc.

  Sean Miller, an old Morehouse buddy of Gabriel's, had founded Miller Investigative Research Services. His company conducted extensive background checks on prospective employees. In these days of fraud, you could never be too careful about whom you hired. Miller would verify prioremployment history, criminal records, judgments and liens, credit reports-anything requested. Everyone's life and deeds were documented, somewhere, and your past could be used against you.

  Gabriel tilted back in the chair, contemplating the envelope, though he didn't open it.

  You don't know me. You don't know who you're fucking with.

  Isaiah was right. Gabriel knew nothing about him. He knew only what Isaiah had told him and the family.

  Could he have lied about his background?

  He could have-and Gabriel was positive he most likely had.

  Gabriel sprang forward and yanked open a drawer. He looked for his lucky Mont Blanc pen Pops had given him when he'd graduated from Morehouse, but he couldn't find it. Maybe he'd left it at home.

  He uncapped a Bic pen and flipped open a notepad. Then he clicked on his Blackberry and pulled up the phone number for Sean Miller.

  It was time to learn the truth about Isaiah Battle.

  Chapter 3 1

  r- can Miller lived in the West End, not far from the Atlanta UUniversity Center, a group of historically black colleges that included Morehouse, Clark Atlanta, Spelman, and Morris Brown. Once a prosperous area, much of the West End had been damaged by the urban blight that plagued most of America's neglected inner cities. A long-term community revitalization project was underway to add retail and new housing, improve transportation, reduce crime, and polish the neighborhood to the urbane elegance it had once enjoyed.

  Sean ran Miller Investigative Research Services out of his house, a renovated Craftsman bungalow that sat far away from the road within the confines of a large fenced yard. A BEWARE OF DOG sign was posted on the gate. Gabriel pushed through the gate and approached the front door. When he pressed the doorbell, spirited, deep-throated barking rang out.

  "Wassup, chief?" Sean said, opening the door. He welcomed Gabriel inside.

  Gabriel hung back, peered over Sean's shoulder. "Where are the dogs?"

  "Down the hall, waiting to rip out your throat," Sean said, and when he saw Gabriel's look of horror, he grinned. "Relax, man. I'm just joining you. You know me. The hounds are in the back. They'll remember you. Come on in."

  "They bite, I sue" Gabriel smiled.

  He and Sean shook hands and exchanged a one-armed brother-man hug. Gabriel had to bend over slightly to do it; Sean was only five-three. Although small in stature, he had a physique that might have been chiseled from granite. He wore dreadlocks and a beard. He'd started locking his hair, Gabriel recalled, after he made his exodus from corporate America five years ago.

  Gabriel followed Sean down the hallway. Artistic renderings of Bob Marley hung from the walls, and Gabriel heard strains of reggae music thumping from somewhere deep in the house.

  The dogs waited at the end of the hallway, sitting patiently on their haunches. Two huge black rottweilers. They looked at Gabriel and then looked at Sean.

  "Friend," Sean said.

  The dogs sniffed Gabriel's slacks, tails wagging.

  "I'd hate to be classified as `enemy,"' Gabriel said.

  "You certainly would." Chuckling, Sean rubbed behind one of the canine's ears. "This neighborhood is on the rise, but you never can take too many precautions. My lab is probably valued at more than the house"

  Sean snapped his fingers, said, "Roam," and the dogs dutifully trotted away.

  Gabriel shook his head in amazement.

  They crossed the kitchen-something delicious and spicy simmered in a pot-and went to a door that led to the basement. Downstairs, Sean had erected his "lab" It was a large, brightly lit space, full of computers, monitors, printers, copy machines, file cabinets, and a couple of desks.

  Off to one side, there was a lounging area with upholstered chairs, a sofa, a chaise lounge, and a coffee table. A gorgeous, dark-skinned woman reclined on the chaise. She wore a red tube top and black capris that clung to her long, shapely legs. She was r
eading a physics textbook.

  "Kristi, this is my old college buddy, Gabriel," Sean said. "Gabriel, meet Kristi."

  "Nice to meet you, old college buddy." Kristi stood and shook Gabriel's hand. The woman stood at least five-ten without heels.

  "Gabriel is here on some sensitive business," Sean said. "Would you mind leaving us alone for a few?"

  Kristi gathered her textbook and notebooks, and sashayed up the stairs. Gabriel whistled lowly and turned to Sean.

  "Now, she's something else," he said. "Where'd you meet her?"

  "At a Barnes and Noble near Georgia Tech," Sean said. "She's from Nigeria, working on her Ph.D. in physics. You know I like the tall sisters especially the ones with brains."

  "That's been your MO since back in the day."

  "And she can cook her ass off. Been fattening me up with all those spicy stews. A brother might have to settle down with her. You and Dana still on track for October?"

  "I guess so," Gabriel said.

  "All right, I can tell from your tone that I'd better not go there," Sean said. He sat on a swivel chair and spun around. "Have a seat. So, what can I do for you? You were sounding secretive over the phone"

  Gabriel sat on a nearby chair. He hadn't wanted to divulge the purpose for his visit while at the office. He didn't think Isaiah or his father would have overheard his conversation ... but he'd begun to feel paranoid and felt more comfortable discussing the matter with Sean face-to-face.

  "I need to find out about a guy," Gabriel said. "This isn't for the company well, not completely, anyway. It's personal."

  Sean had grabbed a pen and a notepad. He nodded, poised to make notes.

  "It's about my family. It's kind of embarrassing...."

  Sean raised his hand in a stop gesture. "Hey, you don't have to tell me. I don't need to know why you need the info in order to get the goods. I'm serving as a tool, nothing more"

  "Okay, thanks, 'cause I'd rather not go into all that."

  "What's the guy's name?"

  "Isaiah Battle. He's from Chicago at least, that's where he claims to be from. I have my doubts about a lot of what he's said."

  "Know when he was born?"

  "June sixth, nineteen seventy-five"

  Sean's eyebrows arched. "Isn't that your birthday?"

  "It is.,,

  "Hmm. Happy belated birthday, by the way. Big three-O"

  "Thanks" Gabriel removed a slip of paper from his jacket pocket. "Here's his license-plate number. He drives a Chevy Chevelle SS, 1970, I think."

  "Old school, bailer whip," Sean said. He studied the note Gabriel had given him and jotted down some information. "This'll help a lot."

  "Look especially for a criminal record," Gabriel said. "I wouldn't be surprised if he had a list of offenses as long as your girlfriend's legs."

  "Sounds like a tough dude"

  "He is." Gabriel didn't say more, though it was clear that Sean was eager to know exactly how he and Isaiah were connected, and why he was seeking this information. "That's the only concrete stuff I have on him. I'm hoping you can fill in the blanks."

  "That's what I do, chief," Sean said, scribbling furiously. "When do you need this by?"

  "As soon as possible. I'll pay you whatever you need to put a rush on this."

  "I can start tonight," Sean said.

  "And if you come across anything that really stands out, I want you to holler at me right away."

  "Will do. How should I get in touch with you? I'd like to get your private e-mail addy in case I want to send you a document or something."

  Gabriel used Sean's notepad to write his personal e-mail address and cell-phone number.

  "Remember, Sean, this needs to stay between us-no matter what you find"

  "If I didn't know how to be discreet, I wouldn't be in business." Sean bounced to his feet. "I'd ask you to stay for dinner Kristi's cooking her banging oxtail stew-but I think I want to get started on this immediately. I get the feeling that would be cool with you, too"

  Gabriel smiled tightly. "I'd appreciate it. You have no idea"

  "I'11 try to get back to you with something before the night is over."

  Chapter 3 2

  L n Friday night, Nicole went to her parents' for dinner. Although she lived in her own town house in Buckhead, there was nothing like Mom's cooking, especially at the end of a long week. After working an eleven-hour day at the downtown law firm where she'd been practicing corporate law for the past year, she was eagerly anticipating a good meal in the company of her family.

  "Hey, Mom," she said when her mother opened the door. Mom wore shorts and a T-shirt, a sure sign that she'd been involved in working around the house. Nicole gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  "Hey, Nic," Mom said. "Looks like it's just you and me tonight."

  "Where's Daddy?"

  "He and Isaiah went out for drinks. They're celebrating a deal Isaiah helped close."

  Nicole set her purse on a table, frowned. "Isaiah's working with Daddy now?"

  "It sounds like it."

  "Oh"

  "I was as surprised to hear about it as you are" Mom shrugged. "But that's your daddy's business. You know I don't intervene."

  Nicole followed her mother into the kitchen. Mouthwatering aromas drifted from the pots and pans on the stove. Nicole's stomach growled, but she held off on grabbing a plate. Mom stirred a pitcher of sweet tea.

  Nicole fidgeted with a pen on the counter.

  "What do you think of Isaiah?" Nicole asked. "Honestly?"

  "Learning about him shocked and hurt me," Mom said. She sighed. "I'm still praying on that. But ... he's your daddy's flesh and blood. I have to accept him, to honor my husband. It's the right thing to do"

  "But what do you think of Isaiah as a person?"

  "He seems like a nice boy. Respectable, well mannered, God-fearing. I think he deserves to know his father and his father's family. He's missed out on so much"

  "Well, yeah, he has"

  "Why did you ask me that?"

  Nicole twisted her hair around her finger. "I was only wondering."

  Mom gave her a skeptical look, but she didn't pursue it further. She poured a glass of tea and slid it to Nicole. Nicole loved her mother's sweet tea, but she didn't pick it up.

  "I'll be back, Mom. I'm going to change out of these clothes."

  Nicole left the kitchen and went upstairs. She'd been living on her own since she'd left to attend undergrad, but she still kept some clothes in her old bedroom.

  She passed Gabriel's room-now occupied by Isaiah-on her way down the hallway. She moved back to the closed door, hesitated.

  She'd wanted to feel out her mother before airing out her own honest feelings. Her mother, as she'd assumed, liked Isaiah. But oftentimes, Mom made such comments only because she was supporting Daddy and didn't want to cause any con flict and appear to be at odds with him. It could be difficult to know what Mom was really thinking.

  But Nicole knew how she personally felt about Isaiah. She didn't like him. He gave her a bad feeling. An icky feeling.

  She'd liked him fine until she had given him a tour of the house the previous night. She could not put her finger on anything he'd said or done while she'd been showing him around, but afterward, when she thought of him, she felt nauseous. It was weird.

  She'd even had a dream about him last night. In the dream he made her do awful things, perverse acts that turned her stomach. When she awakened, it took her a long time to get back to sleep.

  She knew she sounded as crazy as Gabriel with his "gut feeling" about Isaiah. But she couldn't help it. Isaiah creeped her out. He scared her, to be honest.

  But why?

  She looked down the hall to make sure her mother was not around. Mom would never approve of snooping.

  But she wanted to go inside the room, to find something that would either support her fear or prove she was being silly and needed to get over it.

  Satisfied that her mother was not nearby, Nicole opened the door a
nd crept inside. She turned on the light.

  The room smelled like Isaiah-a slightly woodsy, masculine scent. It would have appealed to many women. But it curdled her stomach.

  The bed was neatly made; it looked as though it hadn't been slept in. None of his personal items lay on the nightstand or dresser.

  What were you expecting to find? A collection of human skulls?

  Then she remembered that when she had shown him into the room, he had slid his luggage underneath the bed. She recalled it only because it had struck her as odd, but she hadn't commented on it. He was from another world and his ways were foreign to her.

  She approached the bed. Kneeling, she lifted the bed skirt.

  Two suitcases and a duffel bag lay underneath. She grasped the handle of one of the suitcases, tugged it out.

  She looked behind her to confirm that she was still alone.

  Turning back to the suitcase, she happened to glance at a wooden figurine on the mantel above the headboard. A carving of a man and a woman, bodies intertwined.

  She had seen the statue a thousand times before-Gabriel had picked it up on a trip to Ghana when he was in collegebut looking at it triggered a spell of dizziness.

  She put her hand against her head.

  Oh, God, what's wrong with me?

  Images invaded her mind. They were so vivid that it was as though she had been plunged into a waking dream....

  Isaiah sat on the bed. He made a come-hither gesture with his index finger.

  "Get over here," he said.

  She couldn't resist him. She wanted to, but she couldn't. Her mind was like a car; he had torn her away from the steering wheel and slid behind it himself. He could drive her wherever he desired.

  She walked in front of him. She didn't look at him, however. Her gaze settled on a wooden figurine behind the bed, a carving of a man and a woman.

  Watching her he licked his lips. He put his hands on her breasts. He squeezed.

  "Feel good? " he asked. "Tell me it feels good."

  She had to obey. "7t feels good."

  He slid his hands to her hips, kneaded them between his fingers.