For all his supposed intelligence, he sure was a dumb motherfucker, Adam thought to himself as he stormed down the stairs. Of course a beautiful woman like her would have a boyfriend or significant other. Images of her locked in the arms of some generic man engulfed him, drowning him in one explicit position after another. He tried to close his mind to his overactive imagination, but it was futile. To his growing annoyance, once he blocked one out, another stood ready and willing in the wings to make an appearance.

What was he thinking? He wasn't and that was the crux of the problem. She had lied to him, mocked him, fought with him at every turn and still...his heart pounded and his blood surged at her touch. It was inconceivable something so irritating should call to him when in the past, it would be the reason he would eliminate it from his life.

Ultimately, he was a selfish bastard when it came to relationships and women. Disposing of them as easily as tissues with never a backwards glance or an ounce of remorse. So why for fuck sakes can't he push this little waitress out of his mind, especially now when it was clear she could never be his? If he was a man of honor, he would leave her alone. Pack her up and send her on her merry fucking little way and put an end to all this complication.

The thought made him stumble on the last step and he almost did a face-plant into the marbled floor.

Growling, he stalked over to the bar and quickly poured himself a scotch, slamming it back in one swallow.

"Trouble in paradise?" Jonathan's mocking tone only added to the burn the jealousy and scotch had ignited.

"You're still here?" Adam snarled, ignoring his brother as he busily poured himself another. He was about to tip it back and send it to join the first one, when his brother reached out and grabbed the glass out of his grip.

"That's not going to solve anything." Jonathan took the tumbler and dumped it out in the bar sink.

"You are aware that is ten thousand dollar scotch you are pouring down the drain?"

"You can afford it. If not, then I will buy you a bottle for Christmas if you are a good little billionaire."

Rinsing out the glass, he added ice and poured a generous amount of Goose into it. Taking a sip, he sighed his satisfaction.

"I'm not allowed to have a drink, but you can guzzle Goose to your hearts content?" Adam quirked an irritated brow at him.

"I don't have a mysterious stranger in my bed recuperating from being concussed by my limo driver." He winked at Adam before walking over to the sofa, making himself comfortable. "Care to join me?" he asked, sweeping his hand in the general proximity of the sitting area.

"Speaking of bed, didn't you leave something or someone tied up in yours that you abandoned to be here?" Adam grumbled, dropping into the chair next to the fireplace, staring at it broodingly. The last thing he needed at the moment was to spend more quality time with his brother.

"I assure you, whomever is in my bed is well taken care of. Now, you on the other hand, are a different matter. What kind of brother would I be if I left you during your time of need?"

Adam laughed drily. "Your obligation to your brotherly duties are appreciated, but not required." He turned and narrowed his gaze at his sibling. "The door is that way, in case you might have forgotten."

"As you say, I am aware," Jonathan said softly, swirling his drink.

"If you are under the impression I am going to divulge anything, you are seriously mistaken and might as well go home." Adam leaned back and stared unseeing into the flames. "I wouldn't be able to even if I was inclined. I know about as much as you do."

"She's trouble Adam, I am sure you are perceptive enough to see it." All sense of teasing left Jonathan's face as he set the tumbler on the glass coffee table with a clink and focused on Adam.

"I believe she is more in danger than trouble," Adam sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose against the approaching headache. His brother wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know.

"Tomato...tomahto." Jonathan shrugged. "Either way, it's not something you need to get yourself involved in."

"With all due respect, Jonathan, I will decide what I will or will not get entangled in."

"Why?" His brother leaned forward, letting his arms dangle over his knees as he questioned Adam. His brothers face a mask of confusion. "Why this girl?"

Adam bristled at his tone. Why not this girl? She wasn't just another pretty face, she was...perfection. Somebody else's perfection, he reminded himself bitterly.

"She's running you know," Jonathan interrupted his thoughts.

"Excuse me?" Adam jerked his head up, hoping his face did not reflect his surprise.

"She is displaying all the classic signs. Nervousness, uncooperative, cagey, defensive and I will bet my Maserati on Trixie not being her real name," Jonathan ticked off on his fingers. "If she's not running then she is definitely hiding something."

"You perceived all that from talking with her for less than a few minutes?" Adam asked smoothly, though his mind was anything but.

"I could have totally been a Hardy brother," Jonathan laughed as he picked up his tumbler and took another sip.

Unable to sit, Adam stood up, pacing the length of the fireplace. "Unfortunately, there isn't an enormous need for courses for Hardy Boys 101 in Oxford," he mumbled.

He knew there was something wrong with the waitress, but now, it made more sense. The lying, the aversion to any authority...it was as if the fog had finally lifted, making him feel utterly foolish for not seeing it sooner.

Whipping around, he faced his brother. "What is she running from?"

"Assuming that is what she is doing, it's difficult to say." Jonathan leaned back into the sofa, balancing his drink on his knee. "If I had to hazard a guess, I would go with the law."

Adam snorted in derision. "What could a woman who weighs less than 130 pounds and barely comes up to my chest, possibly do to be in trouble with the police?"

Jonathan's brows raced to the top of his head. "You do know there is no height requirement to commit a crime? But, I think the better question is, how do you know how much she weighs?" Jonathan asked, his astonishment creeping into his voice.

"Don't be an idiot," Adam waved dismissively at his brother's expression. "I don't know if you observed her wrapped ankle while you were up there interrogating her like a witness on the stand, but she sprained it. I had no choice but to carry her in."

"Hmmm...interesting." Jonathan ran a finger around the brim of his glass. "I suppose you didn't have any choice but to bring her here either? All the ambulances off duty? No emergency rooms open?"

Adam shoved his hands in his pockets and turned towards the fireplace. "She wouldn't allow it," he muttered through clenched teeth.

Jonathan laughed heartily, making Adam wince at the sound.

"The great Adam Steele is bending to the will of a woman," Jonathan chuckled. "I never thought I would live to see the day. I must remember to mark it on my calendar."

Adam put an arm up and leaned heavily against the mantel. "If you are done, you can leave at any time," he growled.

"Hit a sore spot, did I?" Adam could feel his toothy grin burning into his back. "So, I guess my question will remain. Why this girl? Why not take her to one of your many motel rooms, Adam? Why bring her here, where none have dared to tread?"

"You seem to be treading just fine, although, if you continue, it will become thin," Adam warned.

"You like her!" Jonathan proclaimed as if he had reverted back to his prepubescent self.

Adam turned back to the blaze. Yes, he liked her. If he was honest with himself, he admired her a great deal and it went beyond even that. To where the line between like and lust blurred. He wanted her. Wanted her more than he'd ever wanted another female. The problem, how could he have her?

"It's okay you know," his brother's softly spoken words broke his attention to his inner turmoil.

"What is?" Adam jerked around.

"To fall in love," he said quietly, staring into his Goose.

"I don't recall saying anything of the sort," Adam scoffed. Shock made him swallow hard and he wished he liked vodka enough to toss back the rest of his brother's drink.

"You don't have to, I can see for myself," he said, slowly getting up off the sofa and walking towards Adam. "And I am ecstatic for you." He clamped a heavy hand on Adam's shoulder.

"Don't be ridiculous! I have no idea what you think you see, but you have been watching too many fucking chick flicks," Adam snapped, shrugging off his hand. "I don't have room or desire in my life for those kinds of complications."

"So you make room and I dare say the desire is more than there."

Adam narrowed his eyes at his brother, his temper simmering on a slow boil. "If I wanted your opinion, I would pay you for it," he sneered.

"Ouch." Jonathan stepped back and grimaced. "What do you have against love anyway?"

"It's a weakness," Adam answered, glaring. "You of all people should know."

Jonathan sighed, shaking his head as he walked towards the foyer. "Unlike you, I have not given up." He turned, looking at Adam. "It would be a shame brother to find you as we did our father. Dead and cold with nothing but his papers and money around him for comfort." Turning back, he called for the elevator.

"Are you done?"

"For now." Jonathan stepped through the opening doors, but before they could close, Adam stopped them.

"And what about you? I don't see you giving up the many to settle for the one and putting up the white picket fence," he hissed. "Don't you dare lecture me about infatuation when all your relationships require a contract."

"You can't even say the word can you?" His brother smiled sadly. "You should know...I have found love, she just doesn't know it yet." He brushed off Adam's hand and allowed the doors to close.

How long Adam stood staring at his reflection in the stainless steel doors, he didn't know. The insistent loud meowing of JC weaving in and out between his legs, broke him out of his trance.

"You hungry, buddy?" Adam crouched down and scratched the giant orange tabby behind the ear, eliciting a heavy purr which made him laugh, despite the clenching of his chest caused by his brother's words. "Who am I kidding? You are always hungry and thankfully, some things never change," he sighed, standing up. "Come on then, let's get you some dinner."

He was in the middle of cutting up bits of fatty chicken, when Erich came into the kitchen.

"Feeding time?" Erich asked, bending down to stroke very verbal JC.

Adam chuckled, "Can't you hear?"

"I think the whole building knows when it's time for JC to eat," he laughed.

Scraping the chicken into the bowl with a bit of cooked carrot, he set it on the floor and watched as the tabby ate, making his usual growly "don't fuck with me, I'm eating" noises.

"How's the girl doing," Erich asked, rubbing a hand over his smooth head.

"She's doing well. Sprained ankle, no concussion...bratty as ever." A smile tugged at the corner of Adam's lip.

"Good to hear. I brought her back pack up and set it in the living room."

Adam nodded, but continued to watch the cat.

"If there's nothing else?" Erich asked, making his way out.

"No, thank you. I'll see you in the morning, I have a meeting downtown at 9:00."

"Yes, sir." He moved through the door, pausing for a moment. "And the girl? Will I be taking her home before you leave or do I need to set up a car for her in the morning?"

Adam gritted his teeth. The thought of her leaving was something he had yet to consider and it didn't sit well with him. Boyfriend or not, he was responsible for her.

"Simon said she needed to stay off her feet for the next 48 hours. She will remain here until then." As Adam said the words, he was surprised to find his hands clenched tightly at his sides and his heart racing like a thoroughbred in his chest at the thought of her walking out the door.

"Yes, sir. Goodnight." Erich disappeared and Adam made a conscious effort to relax his body. Suddenly the desire to see her made his feet beat haste towards his bedroom, leaving JC to his meal.

Stopping in the living room, he scooped up the backpack and headed for the stairs. He had one foot on the step and was about to toss the bag over his shoulder, when it gave him pause. "She's running," echoed in his mind, stopping him in his tracks, looking at the bag which very well could answer a multitude of questions. The obstruction was, did he debase himself so low as to snoop through someone's belongings?

He frowned, finding his thoughts disturbing, but tempting. Had it really come to this? He raised his eyes up the stairs and thought about the woman lying in his bed, possibly still talking to her boyfriend and his frown deepened. Fuck yes, it had come to this. Setting his shoulders, he took the backpack and unzipped it, shaking the contents onto the sofa.

A shower of her belongings rained down on the prestigious white leather. He searched through her things...clothes, brushes, protein bars...a book. Picking it up, he turned it over and looked at the cover. Some barely clad woman was draped gracefully in the arms of a bare-chested man, a look of longing on her face and a fierce possessive one set firmly on his. Judging by the dog-eared appearance, the romance had been well read, treasured even.

Adam stared at the image of the two lovers entwined and for the briefest moment, he felt envious. A tiny yearning flickered to life in his chest. Its flame fighting against the cynical hardness he'd built around himself over the years.

Hearts and flowers. The girl was a closet romantic, Adam smirked. Not a bad bit of intel to know, he thought tossing the book back into the pile. Picking up a small zippered red pouch, he opened it and peered inside, quickly zipping it back up, his face burning bright. Tampons, a man's kryptonite.

Sighing in frustration, Adam flopped down on the couch, the bag hanging off his index finger, swung between his legs. There was nothing of importance inside and all he found was how desperate he could become when it came to this waitress.

Here he was, an extremely well respected, if not feared man of the business world, scavenging like a parasite through some girls backpack. Anger at his brother, himself, the situation and any other fucking thing he could think of, burned in his gut.

Jerking open the pack, he was about to start shoving the evidence of his guilt into it, when a small white object caught his attention. Opening it wider and bringing it closer to the lamp, he discovered a corner of an envelope sticking out of what appeared to be the bottom of the bag. Reaching in, Adam tugged at it and the sound of Velcro giving way, revealed a cover to a false bottom.

Holding the envelope in one hand, he peeled back the cover and was shocked to discover a stash of hidden cash. He presumed there to be approximately three thousand dollars, if not more, in various sums bundled together. Dropping the bag, he slowly opened the unsealed envelope to discover ten crisp one hundred dollar bills. If he was not mistaken, the very same bills he'd given Mr. Brignati tonight for the waitress's troubles.

Frowning, Adam put the money back into the envelope. Closing it, he set it on top of the rest and reattached the Velcro flap, once again making it disappear from sight. Why? That word kept banging in his head like a snare drum. Why would she need to carry so much cash and surely she would have to know how dangerous it was? Why risk her life for such a paltry sum? Why not put it in a fucking bank or stuff it under a mattress for christ sakes like a normal fucking person?

While his mind chewed, he fed her things into the opening of the pack, but the more he thought, the angrier he came and soon he was stuffing it in with a brutality he didn't know he possessed, causing something loose to fly across the room.

Cussing under his breath, he finished cramming in the last article of clothing and got up to retrieve whatever it was as JC wandered back in, obviously finished with his dinner and immensely satisfied.

"If you were a dog, I'd have you fetch it," he grumbled to the feline who happily ignored him by starting his grooming ritual in front of the fireplace.

Stooping down, he picked up a credit card and keys attached to a rhinestone lanyard. Two green cat eyes set against a black background, stared unblinking up at him. The Kit Cat Club, Adam thought as he turned the card over. Underneath the magnetic strip written in bold black lettering was the name Jo Jo Mayfield.

Adam reached for his phone, but pulled out nothing. It was still upstairs with his, by now, sleeping Rumpelstiltskin. Stomping past the staircase and to his office, he flipped open his laptop and turned on the webcam. Holding the card in front of the camera, he snapped a picture.

"Gotcha," he muttered, saving the file. The hunt for the truth was on.

I  wanted to take this time to thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this   installment of Bending Steele, and that you'll consider giving it a vote. I can't tell you how much your support means to me and how much it motivates me to keep going.

If  you find any errors along the way, don't be afraid to point them out and I always enjoy any recommendations or critiques you may have. As always, I will try and update once a week, usually on Thursdays, but if  you don't see an update here, check out my other story When Roses  Collide. Thanks again!