Untitled Part 43

I was so wrapped up in my plans for vengeance that I'd forgotten all about Brett until I saw the 4Runner sitting in my driveway. He hopped out of his SUV when I drove up. One look at my foul mood, and his smile faded. "What happened to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it." More than likely, he already knew about the locker room videos. It seemed the whole football team did.

He moved between me and my front door, stopping me by bracing his hands against my shoulders. "Lexi, talk to me. Tell me what has you so pissed off."

"Like you don't know."

"No, I don't."

I searched his face for any signs of lying, but didn't see any. Maybe he was as innocent as he claimed. I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled, letting some of my anger flow out with the air. "Can we talk about it inside, please?"

"Lead the way."

I was still queasy, but for an entirely different reason now. I'd failed to protect my sister. And that asshole had won—at least for now. But I didn't know if telling Brett about the videos would make things better.

Brett pulled out a chair for me at the table and waited until I sat down before doing the same. "Now, tell me what happened."

"I had a run-in with Sanchez at the fro-yo café." That was common knowledge. Or at least, it would be by morning.

"And?"

"I accidentally tripped and spilled yogurt on his iPad."

Brett crossed his arms. "And why did you do that?"

"It was an accident."

"Nothing about you is an accident."

"Listen, I have things I need to do, so if we can just wrap up this project, I'd appreciate it."

I tried to rise from my chair, but he pushed me back down. "I can't work with you when you're upset, and I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong."

"Why do you want to help me? I thought you and Sanchez were best buds."

"We're teammates, but I also know he can be an asshole."

I mirrored Brett's posture, tapping my fingers on my arm as I weighed the consequences of telling him about the video. Finally, I blew a stray strand of hair out of my face and said, "He was watching a naked video of Taylor and some other girls in the locker room."

Brett's expression turned unreadable. "And was this a video she sent to him?"

"Damn it, Brett, I know my little sister can be an idiot at times, but she's not so desperate for attention that she'd stoop to sexting."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I need more information about this video."

My feet twitched, releasing some of the frustrated energy zapping through my veins. I bit my bottom lip, willing Brett to let this subject go so I could take of it myself once we finished our assignment, but in the end, I decided it was better to defend my sister.

"Okay, I'll start from the beginning. Last week, Taylor discovered a video of her and the other cheerleaders on YouTube that had been taken with a hidden camera in the locker room. I went in the next day and found it, left a video message for the perv who'd placed it there to take down the videos, and then threw the camera away. A couple of days later, the videos were gone, and I thought this was over, but then there was this weird post on my blog this weekend and—"

Brett silenced me by placing his hands on my shoulders and giving me a small shake. "Can you show me where the videos were before?"

"Why? So you can get a glimpse of half-naked cheerleaders too?"

"Lexi, please, I'm trying to help you, remember?"

"Fine." I pulled out my laptop and searched through my browser's history until I came to the link. As before, there was a message that the videos had been taken down by the original poster.

Brett took the laptop from me and started typing. "Are you certain that Sanchez was watching videos about your sister and not someone else?"

"Absolutely." How many sophomore cheerleaders used inserts in their bras?

"Let me look into this, then." He gave me the laptop back and pulled out his phone. He typed a quick text message, and less than a minute later, his phone chirped with the reply. He clicked on it and grimaced as the sound of high-pitched giggles poured out from his speakers.

"Sanchez sent you the link?" I asked dryly, timing how long Brett watched the video.

"Yeah." A few more seconds passed before he stopped it and set his phone on the table. He rubbed his eyes as though he wanted erase those images from his mind. "I've seen enough. You're right about the video."

"And now you know why Sanchez's iPad was attacked by my cup of mocha frozen yogurt."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Mocha, huh?"

"My favorite flavor," I said with a sigh. "It was sacrificed for a good cause, though."

"It may have ended Sanchez's viewing pleasure, but that video's still out there. The guy just reposted it under a different alias."

"Is there any way we can get it taken down?"

Now it was his turn to hesitate. "Maybe."

"Meaning?"

"People can post stuff like this on YouTube."

"Yes, but this video was made without the consent of those involved." I pressed my finger against his phone, deciding to try a new angle. "What if it was one of your sisters in the locker room?"

His lips thinned, and a hint of anger simmered in his eyes. "I'd go after the bastard myself."

"Well, it's my sister in those videos, and now you know why I want to go after him."

Brett slid my finger off his phone and picked it up again. "So this is all about protecting Taylor, huh?"

"Yeah. I mean, we're nothing alike, but in the end, she's still my little sister. You understand, right?"

"Absolutely." He touched his screen, and the voices filled the airwaves again.

I snatched the phone out of his hands. "If you understand, then why are you going back for seconds?"

"Because I noticed something," he replied, taking his phone back.

"What?"

He paused the video and showed me the image on the screen. Taylor stood in the middle in her bra and panties, a bright pink ribbon around her ponytail. "Is that the same ribbon she was wearing yesterday?"

All the blood rushed from my head. Not only had the pervert gone back to posting videos of my sister, he'd replaced the camera. That comment on my blog wasn't a warning. It was a challenge. The asshole had just given me the middle finger by going back in there and recording my sister undressing again. I jumped up from my chair, my feet unsteady.

A pair of warm hands kept me from tripping for real this time. "Hold on, Lexi. Think about this before you rush into it and make things worse."

"I have to find that camera and take it down now."

"Fine, but I'm coming with you."

The blood made its way back up to my brain in less than a second. "Like hell you are. The camera's in the girls' locker room. You aren't allowed in there."

"I'll take my chances if it means I can help you uncover who's behind this."

I wobbled again, this time out of shock. "You're willing to risk getting in trouble to help me?"

"Yes."

I wanted to ask him why, but fear held my tongue. I didn't want to know it was because he felt sorry for me because I'd done a completely shitty job the last time. Instead, I took advantage of his hands on my shoulders, allowing myself a moment to lean on him.

But before my head could reach his shoulder, Junior started wailing.

"Shit!" I said under my breath, jerking back from Brett. "I'm beginning to hate that damn doll."

"I've got it." He released me and immediately began the pretend diaper change. "You go ahead and make sure the locker room is empty. I'll be along in a few minutes."

"What about the doll?"

"I'll drop it off with my mom. She won't mind watching it for an hour or so."

"I'll pick him up from her once we find the camera."

"No worries." Junior was quiet now, but Brett was already gathering the bottle and carrier. "You know where I live."

I backed away, still watching him. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me. Like you said, I have younger sisters." He followed me to the front door, adding, "It's the right thing to do."

As I drove off, I half-expected to see some kind of superhero cape flutter around Brett's shoulders.