BE MY BRAYSHAW

by Meagan Brandy

  “I can’t.” I gently pull free and she stops in her tracks, pushing the loose hairs from her face. “Rora has to—”

  “Come here, Zoey,” Captain gently calls her, cutting me off. “I have your ball.”

  “No ball!” she shouts, the teeniest trace of a cry in her tone.

  Captain’s fist clenches at his sides, but still I can’t look up.

  His anger has already wrapped around my ribs, pulling and tugging and twisting.

  Royce tries next. “I feel like some Fruity Pebbles.” He walks closer, reaching out for her. “Let’s go get some, Zo—”

  She jerks away from him, running behind me to wrap her hands around my legs. “No, no, no!”

  I freeze, dropping my eyes to hers, and when her little lips start to tremble, my heart shakes with them.

  Four sets of eyes burn into my skin, all waiting to see what I’ll do.

  What the fuck do I do?

  Piss them off or break her spirit?

  How is that even a question?

  I shift, ready to pick her up, but Captain beats me to it, clutching my arm to stop me, while leaning down to swoop up Zoey.

  He keeps his focus on her, but his firm hold gives more than he’d like—his hand twitches against my skin, tightening just to loosen in the same second.

  “Let’s head inside now, Zo.”

  To everyone’s horror, and dare I say surprise, Zoey starts to cry, kicking her feet and throwing her body over his arms until she’s half hanging from his arms, attempting to land in mine.

  With her arms out she opens and closes her hands, wordlessly begging for me to grab her as her tears take over her sweet little eyes.

  Sweat builds at the base of my neck, and I lift my arms the tiniest bit.

  Within seconds, I’m surrounded by the other three, and while the moon is bright above us, all I see is a thick cloud of gray.

  It takes everything I have to shuffle backward, away from her, and it’s like shredding myself in half.

  They don’t get it, but how could they.

  My lips have stayed sealed.

  I lift my eyes, meeting a pair of turbulent blues, the light shade of green they normally hold absent altogether.

  There’s so much happening within them, rage being the clearest, but that’s not what gives me pause.

  Confliction, pure and simple.

  To deny his baby girl is to break his own heart, but to allow someone he can’t trust near her is against everything he is—the nurturing, fierce protector he prides himself in being, traits that have only strengthened with Zoey’s homecoming.

  I can’t allow him to battle himself, it’s not right.

  I’m the bad guy in this story.

  I drop my eyes to the grass and rush around them, but I don’t head for the house, not when Zoey will see and possibly come looking.

  I hustle toward the driveway until I meet the orchards, where I take off in a full sprint down the dirt road, but I don’t make it to the end.

  Heavy arms wrap around my elbows and I’m ripped from the ground, spun and slammed between long, thick tree branches.

  A hiss escapes, my eyes darting forward and connecting with Raven’s.

  They widen.

  “Are you fucking stupid?!” I shout, attempting to steady myself.

  Raven doesn’t allow it and nudges me back, her forearm coming up to lock off my throat. She’s shaking, furious, gray eyes burning.

  “You shouldn’t be running like that,” I rasp, attempting to swallow past her hold. “What if I acted out of reflex and knocked you down?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” she forces past clenched teeth, not flinching as heavy, hasty footsteps grow closer. Her nostrils flare, jaw clenching.

  She pushes harder.

  “You ever gonna come out and tell him whatever the hell it is he needs to know?”

  “No.”

  She slams a hand down on the old wood near my head, bending to bring herself closer. “You really think you’re in a position to play like this?”

  I flick my eyes between hers. “They haven’t earned it.”

  A scoffed laugh leaves her, and her frown begins to fade but she puts it right back. “Are you for real?”

  “What kind of Brayshaw would I be if I made this easy?”

  “You aren’t one.”

  “Yet.”

  Her eyes fly between mine, a heavy dip forming between her brows.

  Trust me, Raven.

  Her hold lets up the slightest bit, and I look to the side. Royce and Maddoc are rapidly approaching, vicious scowls on both their faces, but their anger is likely for Raven.

  A sudden sting races across my neck as she twists her forearm against the stretched skin there, purposefully creating the burning sensation and regaining my attention.

  “You better fucking hope you’re redeemable,” she hisses. “I’d hate to have to show you what’ll happen if you’re not.” She swallows, jerking her hand away, and with it goes every shred of emotion. “But I won’t hesitate to either.”

  She steps away right as the others arrive.

  Maddoc glares down at her, but she only places her palm on his chest, her free hand gripping and forcing him back down the dirt road with her.

  I cough, clearing my throat as I watch her walk off, but Royce quickly slides into my view.

  A hard edge lines his face and he stares directly into my eyes for a long, quiet moment. “It’s so much more than knowing she existed, isn’t it?”

  I tell him what he already knows, what all those connected to the world of Brayshaw have either heard or experienced firsthand.

  “Nothing is ever as simple as it seems.”

  He scoffs, a hateful, disgusted sound, and spins on his feet, but he doesn’t start to walk, instead shifting his cold eyes over his shoulder to meet mine once more. “Get back to the house, now.”

  He walks away.

  Captain

  I’m sitting on the edge of my bed with my elbows on my knees when my brothers walk into my room.

  “Zoey fell asleep?” Royce drops his shoulders against the wall.

  I nod, frowning at the floor. “Dad home?”

  “Yup,” Maddoc answers.

  Good.

  I lift my head, locking eyes with Royce.

  “I need a body tonight.”

  His smirk is slow, his phone already in hand. “Warehouses?”

  Maddoc nods with a frown. “The new inside spot’s all set up now, too. Raven’s been wanting to go check it out.”

  “Fuck, bro. You sure you want her out there?” Royce’s eyes widen.

  “What’s she gonna do,” Maddoc snaps. “Jump in the ring with my kid in her stomach?”

  “She might.” He laughs. “She only needs a solid right hook.”

  Maddoc reaches out, punching him in the arm, making Royce grin. “She’s good. We’ll have them clear a path, so she don’t get bumped and shit by the crowd walking through.”

  “Fuck yes!” Raven comes around the corner right then, huge grin in place.

  I chuckle, sitting back. “So we’re good, then?”

  “Oh hell yeah. One Bray Girl buffet coming up.” Royce pauses a moment before adding with a hint of a grin, “Should we stick to brunettes?”

  Raven and Maddoc chuckle, and I can’t help but join.

  Fucker.

  Chapter 6

  Victoria

  As if he knew exactly where I’d be, Captain’s glare finds me instantly, quickly traveling over my body as I lie here in the grass with my head at the edge of the flowers.

  “What are you doing?” he questions.

  I shrug against the ground. “Waiting for Monday.”

  The corner of his mouth twists. “Why?”

  “Because I hate being here like this.”

  At least at the school I don’t have to hide anymore.

  His eyes widen the slightest bit.

  Why does that surprise him?

  “If you hate it here, wh
y the fuck are you?” he snaps.

  With a sigh, I push to my feet so we’re standing face to face, but still a few feet apart.

  “I said I hate being here like this, not that I don’t want to be, but don’t forget I was ‘ordered’ to stay.”

  He pushes closer, so I square my shoulders.

  He’s angry, but so am I.

  Why won’t he ask me what he wants to know already?

  “Yeah,” he rumbles. “And what if you weren’t? Would you have left?”

  “Why ask if you don’t care, Cap?”

  His lips clamp shut, the cords in his neck bulging as he watches me with hard, heated eyes.

  Always so closed off.

  I wish he’d scream and yell, demand or force me to do something I don’t want.

  Anything to get him to surrender to whatever is going on inside him.

  Maybe that’s what I have to do, piss him off, bring him to his breaking point.

  Does he have a breaking point?

  “I wouldn’t have left,” I admit and his eyes slim. “Even if you tried to make me.”

  They narrow even more as he tries to gauge me. “You’d disobey a banishment from a Brayshaw?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’re punishments for that.”

  “Not one worse than having to go when I want to stay.”

  Another step closer.

  “Stay where?” His chin lowers.

  Mine raises.

  “Stay here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I belong.”

  His knuckles come up, and I hold perfectly still as he brushes my hair from my face. “Belong... to who?”

  A hushed chuckle escapes, and I shake my head, looking to the grass. “You want me to say it out loud and for what, so you can throw it in my face in some way?” My eyes pop back up to his. “I don’t think so. Only when you’re ready to hear it.”

  Not until you’re brave enough to ask.

  His entire face morphs, nothing but rage to be found as he encroaches. “You think I give a shit about anything that could possibly come from your mouth?” he questions, disgust tightening his words, mockery woven within them. “You’re nothing but an added figurine.”

  “So play me like your favorite toy.”

  “You couldn’t handle if I did.”

  “There is nothing you could do that could cut deep enough to make me bleed. I’m hollow, Cap. Torn apart, depleted, and re-stitched with a whole lot of nothing.”

  He’s slow in his movement, brushing his chest across mine as he lifts my chin. “How fun it will be to prove you wrong.” He steps around me. “Go inside, brush your hair, and be on the porch in fifteen minutes. We’re leaving and you’re coming.”

  “Where?”

  “Fourteen minutes.”

  Ass.

  A familiar heat burns against my skin, but I pretend not to notice for as long as my body allows, which happens to be no more than a minute or two.

  I meet his eyes.

  Captain gives no expression but pointedly looks in the direction I was staring, where Chloe and Mac sit chatting with Tisha, and back to me with a raised brow.

  Of course, no words follow, so I look away.

  He hasn’t said a single thing to me since we got here an hour ago, not that he’s spoken at all, but still.

  He wants attention, he needs to give it. I’m not playing his staring games tonight.

  I take a long drink of water, and stand, walking closer to the entrance of this place, and lean against the inner frame. There are crowds of people all around, from one end of the warehouses to the next.

  Nothing but giant iron rods surround this place, large sheets of tin woven between them to keep those on the outside from peeking in—if they don’t want you to see, you never will. There are guards out front and scattered all around to make sure of it. Being on the outer edge of town, closest to nothing, it leaves no excuse for passersby who don’t belong having ‘just been in the area.’

  It’s growing louder by the minute out there, several people now crowded around the smaller makeshift rings, watching the opening match while others wait by the larger one, securing their spots for the fight of the night.

  A small smile finds the corner of my mouth as I glance around.

  My kind, their kind, all together for some late-night debauchery, not that it’s any different than normal out here, but I haven’t had a night out or away in a long ass time. It’s rowdy and wild, yeah, but it’s a good ass place to chill out, people watch.

  A great place to find leverage.

  My features tighten at the thought.

  That’s the kind of shit that got me into the trouble I’m currently in, but my brain won’t stop. It’s what I’m good at.

  Movement to my right catches my eye, and I shift to find Royce stepping up.

  He winks, but it’s ugly and malicious as he pushes the sliding sheet metal doors open all the way, allowing those outside to see into the newly remodeled building.

  Only months ago, all that was in here were a couple chairs and crates lining the walls. After bets took place, the guy who used to run this place, Bass Bishop, would slip in here. Maybe to count or store the money, I don’t know, but it was a wasted space for sure—dust and cobwebs, unused.

  Maddoc, though, he knew how much Raven liked this place and wasn’t okay with her being out in the open constantly, so he had it redone.

  While the outside is still old and beat down looking, stepping inside is like entering some sort of black cards club.

  Walls have been put up, thick, black and white stripes covering three of them, a large wolf head painted across the center, black where the white stripe is, white where the black is.

  The fourth, the longest back part of the building, is rich, royal blue, thick white lettering above it reading The Wolves Den.

  There’s a bar stretching along it, leaving about five feet at each end, where matte black curtains are hung. They curve outward, forming a crescent-like shape, hiding whatever is beyond them.

  Each corner of this place holds something different, couches that match the color of the back wall are grouped to the farthest right, surrounding a giant TV mounted high, ESPN playing across it while the outer left has a poker table set up and ready to go—Captain sits at one of the tables, must be where he plans to spend his night.

  The front left is plush leather chairs and mini tables, another TV, while the front right, where I’m standing by the door, is a long row of lockers. Where they expect people to leave their shit maybe?

  I glance back when I notice Raven stand, an oversized jacket swallowing her small frame, to hide her stomach still, I’m guessing. Maddoc is already on his feet, leading her behind the hidden area on the left.

  Royce’s phone pings in his pocket and his eyes slide back to mine. “That’s the church bell, VicVee. Time to be kings for peasants.”

  My mind spins, but I don’t have to wonder what he’s talking about long.

  “Royce!” a bubbly voice squeals.

  I’m almost knocked back when long, thin arms fly past my face to wrap around his neck.

  “Ladies, come in.” He shifts to the side. “Victoria here is channeling her mama tonight,” he says and I grow stiff.

  As far as everyone around here knows I’m nothing but a handout kid, parentless and living in a home for ‘free,’ a group home girl.

  Thankfully, these girls are more interested in Royce himself and not his words at the moment.

  “She’s playing maid lady tonight. Whatever you need, she’s your girl.” He smirks like a dickhead. “Put your phones in one hand and purses in the other.”

  Wow.

  “Oh, boo, but I wanted to Snap some pics tonight,” one girl says, her voice coming out completely whiny and desperate, but she sticks her lip out like it’s supposed to be cute and flutters her lashes as if he cares.

  He doesn’t, and he doesn’t do desperate.

  He nods his chin at the ta
ll, intimidating dude with braids who stands just outside the entrance.

  Dude slides in, wraps an arm around her shoulder and spins her on her heels.

  “Hey, wha—”

  “Don’t make it worse, girl,” he whispers as he leads her out.

  Royce turns to the others, all three standing wide-eyed and unsure.

  “Trash is out, ready to party?” He grins, unfazed.

  Three words from him and their fourth friend is forgotten.

  They swiftly pull their phones from their bags as instructed and step toward me.

  I roll my eyes, holding my palms out without so much as a pause and Royce steps back with a smirk.

  The last chick takes forever to pass off her stuff, applying what must be a fifth coat of gloss to her lips.

  “Oh my god, Amber, hurry up!” her friends complain.

  “What?” She shrugs, finally handing her bag over. “I need to be all shiny and plump. I heard Captain likes that.”

  My muscles lock.

  Royce was waiting for it, and his grin grows a little deeper, a lot nastier.

  So these girls are their entertainment for the night, this is why Captain wanted me here.

  A sick burn races up my stomach and into my ribs, but I’d never show it.

  “Ladies, let Victoria know what you want to drink, she can deliver it to us.” He wraps an arm around two of them. “Make it quick, Rora. We’ll be behind the right curtain.”

  Asshole.

  I take a deep breath and walk to the bar, ignoring Chloe and Mac who are relaxing with drinks on a set of barstools.

  Chloe watches me as I slip behind the counter instead of giving the orders to the grunge dude taking them.

  I quickly pour the stupid champagne but leave some room and top it off with a little less than a double shot of gin. They’ll never know, and they won’t dare complain after their girl got kicked out for thinking her wants mattered.

  Let’s see how well they can perform later when they can’t even walk.

  Brayshaws don’t do sloppy.

  Chloe chuckles, and then a stir stick is pushed into my line of sight.

  I eye her a moment, then take it and give a light swirl, tossing it to the granite top after. I lock my fingers around the edges to support my weight, holding her gaze.