Page 58 of Tormented & Tulips

I take in the splinters of wood spread across his room. Dresser drawers now sit on the floor in a neat line along the wall. Socks, handkerchiefs, and ties all litter the bed. A sad sock organizer now lies in tatters in the corner. He stops shaking the dresser when his gaze meets mine. Raising his hand slowly, he points the screwdriver at me.

“Not a fucking word.”

Fighting back a smile, I nod.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, dear brother! What did she do, hmm? Chip the wood? Leave you a love letter? ‘Dear Ethan, your sock organizer has won my heart!’” I throw my hands to my chest, theatrically tugging at my shirt above my heart for full effect.

The glare he casts my way positively drips with malice and violence. Flashing him a toothy grin, I begin carefully stepping around the odds and ends of this chaos.

“I don’t know what she did. But she did something.” He works the screwdriver, sending a piece of metal to the floor.

“This woman might be my new favorite person. How long have you been at it?”

“Too long. And it’s not why I called you,” he says as he fits a flashlight into his mouth and sticks his head into the dresser.

I know nothing about this woman, but I know my brother’s penchant for getting under someone’s skin. As a betting man, I’m confident that he probably earned every moment of this torment. She deserves a little of her own back anyhow. He’s been an absolute creep about her for quite some time.

“Why did you call me then?” I continue my stroll around the room.

“Remember that client of hers—Lennox—that I asked you to look for a while back?”

I hum.

“Yes, I remember. Even if he was so unmemorable.” Once I’m out of the main cluster of carnage, I step aside and lean against the wall.

“Well, I need you to look deeper into him.” He runs the flashlight down each panel of the dresser.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like the way he was looking at her this afternoon. He’s up to something.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a sigh. I was actually enjoying him taking an interest in this woman, but now I have more work. Don’t most people require less when they have a new budding relationship?

“You cannot be suggesting that he’s intending to abscond with your newest fixation.”

His hand stills on the dresser. Lifting the screwdriver, he begins waving it in my face. An action that in any other circumstance would be menacing.

“She is not a fixation. And I don’t trust him.”

Raising my eyebrows, I attempt to convey how ridiculous he’s being.

“Would you trust any man around her?”

“No.” He shakes his head, turning to his inspections.

“Oh yes. This is all very rational on your part.” Kicking off the wall, I step over to the dresser and rest my arms on the top. The action causes him to pause momentarily. He looks over his shoulder at me with a smoldering glare I’m accustomed to.

“Just look into him. And while you’re at it, look into the man she went with to the museum—Carl something or other.”

More things. I’m getting many things to do. Unacceptable.

“Are we only looking into men she spends time with, or are we looking into every man she speaks to as well? I need to know whether I need to hire an assistant. I do have a full-time job, you know.” I rap my fingers on top of the dresser out of annoyance.

“Your job is playing video games on one screen while you pretend to perform security functions on the other.”

He shoves my arm off the dresser, then flips it over and begins inspecting the bottom panel.

“I do not pretend to do anything. I wrote a program that does it for me. It provides me with alerts; I then assess and clear out. Hence, still work.”