Five Brothers, page 7
He looks past me, and I follow his gaze, seeing Macon toss two tires out of the garage. The sun beats down on his back, his head hanging like it weighs a ton.
“He has no woman who loves him,” Trace goes on. “No kids of his own running around. He has nothing but us. Liv left. You’re going,” he says to me, then looks at Dallas. “And how long are you gonna stick around without him here?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll be next, and Army will stay only because he has Dex in tow. What will Macon have to do with his life then?”
I grind my fingers into my palms.
But before I can ponder what he said for too long, I hear his low voice turn to a bite. “Oh, what the hell?”
I look up, seeing what he sees.
Milo Price walks out of the small motel next to the bar down the road.
A burn swirls in my stomach. A feeling I know well and one that I love.
He’s dressed only in jeans as he leans against a column and lights a cigarette.
The motel’s got six units, which are almost always empty, except for an hour here or there when guys like him pay to slum.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Army strolls up, tossing his tool belt into the truck.
I take a step but stop, a white nineties Mercedes-Benz convertible cruising past right in front of me. Music blasts, and Krisjen heads straight for Mariette’s, sliding perfectly into a spot right up front.
“What is she doing back?” Dallas asks.
I glance at her ex, still standing in front of the motel, and I can tell the moment he sees her. I dart my gaze back to her, but she doesn’t see him.
Dallas and Trace climb out of the bed, and I slam the door closed, all of us stepping toward the road. Krisjen climbs out of the car a hundred yards down the street, takes a kid out of the back seat, and holds their hand as she goes into the restaurant. Milo watches her, and I wait till she’s gone before I charge over to him. He isn’t welcome here, and it has very little to do with her. He’s got to be another level of stupid to think he can show his face after what he did.
With my brothers on my heels, I head straight for the son of a bitch.
He sees me coming and straightens up. “Easy, man.” A fucking smile dances across his lips. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
“Iron…” Army tries to calm me.
But I don’t listen. “You’re not welcome here,” I bite out.
Milo sucks on his cigarette, the scar my sister’s girlfriend left down the side of his face last spring still red and fresh. I’m surprised he forgot the warning to stay away with it staring him in the mirror every day.
“I paid,” he assures us.
Camilla Gonzalez steps out of the room behind him, fixing the cups of her tank top. She stops, seeing us.
“Get inside,” I growl.
Goddamn her.
She steals back into the room, and I take a step into Milo. “Stay away from our women.”
“When you have plenty of fun with ours?” He casts a look toward Mariette’s and the Mercedes parked in front of it, indicating Krisjen. He snickers. “You all want them because they’re young, tight, and clean between the legs. They giggle and wear pink, but damn, they feel good, don’t they? Your sister knew it. She loves Saint pussy, too.”
I jolt, a hand gripping my arm from behind to stop me.
“And they get wet around any cock wearing a tool belt.” Milo shakes with laughter. “But, Iron, they don’t stay. Our women need money to look that good.”
“Clay doesn’t need money from Liv,” I tell him. “And if you were any fucking good in bed, you would realize they’ll always cross the tracks for the things you can’t give them.”
He takes a drag and blows out smoke, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Did you know there’s a ring of wife swapping in St. Carmen?” he tells us. “My dad has fucked everyone’s wife. I followed my mom to a party one night where she was the belle of the ball.”
I frown.
It’s becoming easier to understand why he’s so fucked up. God, these people are ugly.
“People marry for lots of reasons,” he explains, “that aren’t about love, and they get unhappy. To keep it together, they share with one another. Within their circle, that is, because there’s no danger of falling in love or breaking up families. They’re all in business deals together, so everyone has too much to lose and enough motivation to keep it quiet.”
Is that true? They fucking pass their wives around?
Milo lowers his voice, taunting us. “I hear Jerome Watson is after Krisjen.” He grins, and something starts crawling up my throat, my gut turning to brick. “She will get so much attention as a young St. Carmen wife. Maybe down the road, I’ll get my turn with her again.”
I bite down on my teeth, and he releases a sigh, a memory playing behind his eyes. “My favorite thing about Krisjen,” he whispers, “is that she hits back.”
I launch for him, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pushing him to the ground. Motherfucker.
Someone grabs me from behind. “No, goddammit!” Army bellows, wrapping his arm around my neck and hauling me back against him.
I growl, fighting to get away, and he throws me off to the side, getting in my face.
“Stop it!” Army yells at me. “He’s baiting you!”
He turns, and I glare at Milo, knowing we should’ve fucking killed him last May.
Army points his finger in Milo’s face. “Get the fuck out of here!”
Milo backs off, toward his car, but pauses to spit on our ground. “Enjoy your last week, Iron.” He breathes hard. “By the time you get out, nothing will be yours.”
And I know exactly what he means.
We watch him drive out of the Bay, and I wipe the sweat off my lip.
Why can’t they just leave us alone? They have everything. Our land is a fraction of what it was, and they just keep coming for more.
All of this will be gone by the time I’m out.
I see Krisjen carry drinks to people on the deck, and I head for her.
“Iron,” Trace calls out.
I ignore him, watching Krisjen head back inside.
“Krisjen,” I call.
She turns her head, sees me, and rolls her eyes. “I know…” She enters the restaurant, and I follow. “It took about three seconds after you left for me to realize that I did not want to be subjected to my mother today, so I’m taking you up on your offer. But just for today.” She nods, assuring me. “I won’t be back. I mean it.”
She’s being playful, but it’s the wrong time. “Just go now.”
She turns and looks at me, and I feel my brothers stopping behind me.
“I mean it,” I tell her. “Leave.”
Someone lets out a hard breath. Probably Trace. He wants to be on my side, but he doesn’t know what I’m doing.
Krisjen frowns, straightening as we all confront her. “What’s wrong?” she asks us.
“You heard him,” Dallas tells her. “Go.”
“We’re not a fucking tourist attraction,” I point out. “Dick for you girls to ride until you’ve had enough. Slum somewhere else.”
“Iron, knock it off,” Trace barks. “Krisjen’s not like that.”
“We’re a joke to them,” I say over my shoulder. “To all of them. They use us.”
“Like you and Dallas, or any of you, were looking for love all the times you went after St. Carmen tail?” She sneers. “Please.”
“The difference is…” I walk up to her, lowering my voice. “We would marry you.”
Her chest caves a little.
“If we loved you,” I tell her. “I’d be so fucking proud if you were mine. Any of us would be. Would you show me off to your friends? Jump at the chance to live over here in the gutter with us?”
A lump moves down her throat, but her stern expression doesn’t waver. “If I ever loved any of you, then maybe.”
Dallas snickers behind me, but she doesn’t fight me further. Ripping off the apron around her waist, she grabs the little girl, who I can only assume is one of her siblings, and rushes out of the restaurant.
“No! I don’t want to go!” the little girl screams. Her sketchbook falls from her hands, her crayons still on the table.
“I’m sorry,” Krisjen chokes out. “It’s okay.”
“What did I do?”
“Nothing, honey. I’ve got you.”
Trace sweeps up the sketchbook, and we all walk after her, down the steps of the restaurant.
“Trace will deliver your Rover when it’s done,” I tell her.
“I’m taking it now.”
“It’s not drivable.”
She whips around. “Like I give a shit!”
Army quietly laughs, and I follow as she heads to her Rover, which is still parked in front of our house. She leaves her dad’s Benz at Mariette’s. Is she actually going to take her little sister home in a car that’s unsafe?
“You’re stubborn,” I taunt. “I always liked that. But no one can ever accuse you girls of being smart. That’s for sure.”
She puts her sister into her back seat, closes the door, and turns to face me. “See this?” She grabs herself between her legs. “I was born with all the tools I need to make as many sons as it takes to see this shithole burned to the ground.”
“Ohhhh.” Trace laughs.
Army snorts. “Damn.”
“Shut up,” I growl at them. That isn’t funny.
I face Krisjen. “He smacked you around? Milo? He hit you, right? More than once?”
Fire lights up in her eyes. She knows I was at the lighthouse party last spring and saw. We let Milo have it that night, not that it did much good.
I get in her face, backing her into the car. “You know what he tried to do to my sister last spring. And if you would’ve spoken up before that—about what he was like—maybe he wouldn’t have had a chance to try anything.”
“Spoken up to who?” she shouts. “The police who are hired by the city council his mother sits on?”
I glare down at her.
“Or my grandfather, who is grooming Milo’s cousin to replace him as district judge?” she says next, water pooling in her eyes. “Or maybe the school administration that accepts his family’s donations? Or my classmates who never would’ve taken my side over his? Who?”
A beautiful blush crosses her cheeks, and I can almost feel the heat of her breath as she holds the tears at bay.
“Maybe I’m stupid.” Her chin trembles, but she looks determined. “Because maybe he said all the right things one night when I thought he was all I had and I felt sorry for him.” She laughs at her own dumb thinking. “Or maybe I wanted to believe he cared about me. Maybe I was naïve and I had lofty ideas about love and thought that his having violence in him didn’t make him a bad person and the struggle would make it worth it.”
Her words wind through me. I have violence in me. I’m not bad, though. I’m nothing like him…
“Or maybe I liked it.” She smiles bitterly. “Because nothing felt good, so when it felt really fucking awful, the blood made me feel like I was surviving something. And that made me feel powerful.”
I feel the crooked bone in the middle finger of my right hand that I once broke in a fight. The left nostril that I can never breathe through because it didn’t set right after another altercation. And all the scars from all the times I lived to bleed, because it was the only time I felt strong.
“Or maybe I wanted it,” she goes on, “because then I could hit back, and Mrs. George next door to me growing up never did. No financial independence to leave with her three kids. She was so quiet, because her husband had all but killed her, and she’ll stay with him forever. And maybe sometimes I hoped Milo would take a swing just so I could swing back at him, and Mr. George, and my father, and everyone who stands on weaker people.”
A tear spills down her cheek.
She’s killing me.
“I wish you all could have all the money you ever wanted, so you can see that’s not the answer,” she says. “I liked coming here, because no one covers the bruises. Your women have their own motorcycles, and everyone’s either laughing or howling. It’s…different. I wanted friends, and you guys don’t throw people away.” Her voice lowers to a whisper, and I can tell she’s struggling not to cry. “It’s a good place.”
She turns, but I grab her. Pulling her into me, I wrap my arms around her and bury my nose in her hair.
She tries to push away. “Stop it.”
I don’t let her go. “I’m sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling them watering. “I’m so sorry. I’m a prick. Jesus.”
She shakes in my arms, and I pull back, looking down at her.
She shakes her head, refusing to look at me. “You think I have nothing inside of me.”
“I don’t think that.”
She tries to turn, but I won’t let her.
“You’re not stupid,” I tell her. “It’s not your fault that you have a heart and tried to give it to him. I don’t even know why I went after you this morning. I’m sorry.”
I’m pissed at myself and my fucking mistakes, and I resent her family and her circle, but I like Krisjen.
She tears away from me, opening her car door. “Just let me go.”
But I press my hand into it, slamming it shut. “You’re not going back there today.”
She turns, scowling at me.
I look down at her. “I don’t want you around those people.”
4
Krisjen
What is his problem? As if I didn’t feel like a big enough loser waiting only ten whole minutes before I followed Iron back over to the Bay when I said I would never be back again.
Now he’s kicking me out.
But then…
Oh wait, no, stay.
I shake my head, his mouth so close I can feel his breath. At some point I really need to learn that men are just not worth the trouble.
“What the hell is going on?” Macon barks, and I see him out of the corner of my eye, walking out of the open garage.
Everyone stands there, but I’m not saying anything. This isn’t on me.
Finally, Army pipes up, “Nothing!” And he pushes Trace toward their work truck.
“Then get to work!”
Iron’s eyes don’t leave mine, and I shouldn’t, but I smile just a little, because he has to leave, and now, so can I.
“Iron, let’s go!” Army shouts. “We’re late.” I hear the others climb into the truck. My smirk grows, the challenge hanging between us.
Iron jerks his head, looking at Macon. “Give me your knife.”
“Why?”
“Just give it to me, Macon!”
Iron holds out his hand, and Macon hesitates as the truck’s engine starts up. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a pocket knife, tossing it to Iron.
Iron swipes it midair and twists around, heading back toward the restaurant down the street.
We all stand and watch as he stalks toward the stairs, but then he stops at my dad’s Benz, unsheathes the blade, and it hits me what he’s going to do.
“No!” I growl, but I’m too late.
He bends over, stabs the front left tire, dragging the blade through the rubber to widen the gash.
“Ah!” I cry as laughter goes off in the truck behind me.
Iron runs over, tosses the knife back to Macon, and smiles. “Change that one, too?”
“You son of a—” Macon bites out, charging up next to me as we both watch Iron-fucking-Jaeger pull himself up and over the side, hopping into the truck bed.
“What the hell are you doing?” I scream.
He flashes me a white smile.
I ball my fists. “You asshole!”
He lets his head fall back as he laughs. “Go, go, go!” he shouts to Army in the cab.
They all howl as Army speeds off.
“Whoo!” Trace hollers.
“Goddammit!” Macon calls after them.
“I can order an Uber, you know!” I shout.
“We’ll be back at five o’clock!” Iron calls out, leaning up on his knees as they drive off. “Tell Mariette we want our usual, and can you make those stuffed mushrooms you brought on the Fourth of July?”
“I’m not making you shit!”
“But I’m going to prison, Krisjen.”
He sounds so fucking innocent, like I’m going to feel sorry for him. Trace covers his face with his hands, unable to stop his laughter.
They disappear down the street as Macon and I just stand there. Paisleigh giggles inside my car.
“God—” Macon says through his teeth. “Son of a…”
I look up at him, his scowl darkening as he turns from the truck that just sped off down to me.
I shrug. “It’s not my fault,”
“Just…” he grits out, holding up his hands like he’s going to strangle someone before gesturing to Mariette’s. “Get over there and work this off. So help me God, I’m going to fucking explode right now.”
I don’t have a chance to argue further before he walks back into the garage, but I’m not sure I would’ve anyway. I would just leave. If I had a car.
I kick a rock, looking over at the Mercedes that now sits as lopsided as my Rover did last night. Fuuuuuck these boys.
Dammit!
I grab my sister out of the car and walk back to Mariette’s, shouting at Macon as I pass by the garage. “I’m keeping my tips!”
* * *
—
I spy the clock over the menu on the wall and pick up my pace, setting the sandwiches down in front of the two old ladies and collecting their empty dish of appetizers.
I wanted to be gone before five, so Iron can’t gloat when he walks in and sees me here.
