Twisted (Steel Brothers Saga 8)

under the radar. I’d never really had a real friend before. Melanie was a friend.

She was also a psychotherapist. She’d said she’d be willing to talk to me anytime I wanted to. I was comfortable with Melanie, and I trusted her. And God only knew I had a lot of baggage I needed to unload, not the least of which was figuring out what was going on with Ryan Steel.

I’d betrayed him. I’d been the one who gave his sister a strand of his hair so a DNA test could be run to determine whether Wendy Madigan was his mother. Results were in, and Ryan was only a half sibling to Jonah, Talon, and Marjorie, the three of whom were full siblings, children of Bradford and Daphne Steel. Ryan was Brad’s son, but his mother was not Daphne, contrary to what he’d always thought.

I’d owned up to my part in it when he confronted me. I owed him that much. I’d even let him take me to bed in the rage he was in. Then I’d gone with him to see his mother—his biological mother. We’d parted after that, and he’d promised me he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

I sighed, worried.

What if Ryan Steel’s definition of “stupid” didn’t match my own?

Chapter Two

Ryan

I dropped the phone.

My father?

My father was dead.

My mother was…not my mother.

My whole world had been shattered with one revelation.

What the fuck?

Shit! My eyes weren’t on the road. I’d gone off the shoulder and was close to Brown Canyon. The speedometer now said one twenty. I floored the brakes.

My life didn’t flash before my eyes, but I knew I was toast. Dead toast.

The tires screeched on the dirt as I swerved to the left.

Thonk!

My head hit the dash as the car halted.

I raised my head, woozy. The car didn’t feel stable. Quickly, I opened the door and hopped out, my head still swimming, my vision blurred.

Two seconds later, Jake toppled over the cliff and into the canyon below, taking my phone with him.

Ever seen a grown man cry? Try watching a Porsche fall off a cliff. But I didn’t shed a tear.

I fell to the ground, my head in my hands, recalling the conversation with my biological mother only hours ago.

“My father’s dead.”

“That’s ridiculous. I just talked to him this morning.”

“What did he say to you this morning?”

“He said he missed all of you kids. He said he missed me.”

“Really?”

“He said he’d come home as soon as he could. As soon as it was safe.”

My biological mother, Wendy Madigan, was certifiably nuts. I hadn’t believed her when she said my father was alive.