Prose Before Bros

by Smartypants Romance

  Now, that sounds like him, Drill thought.

  “So, did you go to the memorial service earlier?” Pete pressed, getting on Drill’s nerves. “Or are you going later? I’m guessing later, when it’s not so damned crowded.”

  Drill didn’t even grunt. He watched as a stripper, with more enthusiasm than skill, shook her naked rack and then turned to flash her ass, swinging around the pole. He shook his head, sighing again. She was obviously new, and needed practice, he thought clinically. His body didn’t stir at all.

  What is wrong with you?

  It wasn’t his father’s death. As far as he was concerned, his father had died the day he’d joined the Wraiths. Maybe even earlier, when his mother had died. But this empty feeling had been growing for a while, and this numbness was starting to get alarming.

  The meth girl interrupted, straddling him this time. “Poor baby,” she crooned, leaning forward and licking his earlobe. “I can make you feel better. Just take me to one of the back rooms, and you’ll forget all about it.”

  He got to his feet, picking her up easily. Then he handed her to Pete like she was a feral cat. “Not interested,” he repeated.

  Pete laughed as Alice shoved him away, cursing. “Not interested in the funeral,” Pete clarified, “or in Alice here?”

  “Either.” Drill sat back down. “Both.”

  Unfortunately, Pete decided he was Drill’s new best friend and sat down beside him, motioning to a waitress. “I hear your sister’s back in town,” he said.

  Drill frowned. He hadn’t seen Maddy in sixteen years, not really. Not since he’d joined the Wraiths. He felt his chest tug a little. He found himself wondering how she was. When he left all those years ago, he hadn’t worried that his father would beat her — the man’s old school sensibilities meant he’d never strike a woman, although Drill had inconspicuously kept tabs to make sure that his instincts weren’t wrong. His sister hadn’t gotten the whippings Drill himself had received. That said, he imagined that living with “Old Man Blount” hadn’t been easy for her, since his old-fashioned take on life probably kept her pretty constrained. When he’d heard she went off to school, he was amazed — and cheered.

  Of course, if Maddy was so smart… what the hell was she doing back in Green Valley?

  Pete hunkered down, leaning across the table conspiratorially. “You know, there are some rumors going on around your sister. Like, deviant shit.”

  Drill finally focused on the kid. He might not have been in his sister’s life, might have cut off that part of his family — but by God, he wasn’t going to sit here and listen to Pete fucking Lundy talk smack about his kid sister.

  “Like what?” Drill asked, his voice deceptively calm.

  Pete perked up, as if thrilled that Drill was finally participating in the conversation. “I hear she’s knocked up, and there’s no husband. Just some Chinese chick,” he said. “A chick. I heard that your sister told my Mom’s friend that she doesn’t need a man, she’s got her woman.” He looked like he was drooling over that tidbit of gossip.

  Drill blinked. His sister was gay? That was news. Not that he cared one way or another. He knew some people in the Wraiths might not share his opinion, but he just didn’t give a damn about who decided to sleep with who, if they weren’t sleeping with him.

  Obviously, Pete here cared.

  What was more concerning was the fact that she was pregnant. He tried to imagine it, and couldn’t. In his head, she was still the twelve-year-old kid, her hair in braids, her head bent studiously over books. Or she was playing softball, with the kind of easy grace that made winning plays look like a walk in the park.

  Now, she was supposedly pregnant, with no man in the picture. How was she managing?

  He found the numbness retreating, pierced by Pete’s missive.

  Was she all right?

  “What the hell are you talking about?” a new voice chimed in.

  Pete and Drill looked up to see Catfish standing in front of them, his arms crossed. He looked imposing, and irritated.

  Pete saw that he had a new audience, and quickly crowed out, “Drill’s sister here is gay! And pregnant! She brought her girlfriend to his Dad’s funeral, and…”

  “Drill doesn’t have a sister.”

  Catfish’s words were like a hammer striking an anvil, and Pete winced back. “Wha…what?”

  “Drill doesn’t have a sister. Or a father.” Catfish’s eyes gleamed. “You join the Wraiths, then we are your family. Period.”

  Pete looked abashed. “Uh…”

  “If you have trouble cutting ties, if you want to sit around like it’s a fucking sewing circle exchanging gossip, then maybe Drill here should kick your ass out, huh?”

  “No, sir!” Pete was visibly trembling by now.

  “Goddamn recruits,” Catfish said, shaking his head. He gestured for Drill to follow him. Drill got up, abandoning his beer, following him to the back rooms. “I wanted to go over last week’s take, and talk about some loans we’ve got to get collected. Okay?”

  Drill nodded, following Catfish down the hallway. But the numbness had retreated, followed by a sense of curiosity, and concern. Not for his father — it was too late for that, even if he’d had a better relationship with the son of a bitch.

  But Maddy…

  What had happened to Maddy?

  Chapter Three

  It was ten o’clock before the last of the mourners and well-wishers and neighbors left the Blount homestead. Getting all that food tucked away had taken some creativity, but at least they wouldn’t go hungry in the next week. Or possibly month, she thought, as she crammed the last plastic container in and shut the fridge door firmly. Maddy had been yawning since nine, so Thuy had sent her off to sleep.

  “You sure you don’t need help?” Maddy had asked, rubbing at her eyes.

  “You sure you’re okay sleeping in your Dad’s room?” Thuy had asked in return.

  “Yeah. I mean, he had his heart attack in the field, not here in the house. Besides, this belly needs more room than my old twin bed.” She’d disappeared up the stairs, saying goodnight.

  Thuy felt a little freaked out. She was on a farm. She’d never been on a farm before. That probably came off as totally snobbish, but damn it, she’d lived in some of the sketchiest neighborhoods in Oakland, so it wasn’t like she felt she was “above” it. She’d gotten used to the quick popping sounds of drive-by shootings, the wail of sirens, the screech of tires on asphalt. The loud braying laughter of drunks, usually from some of her family.

  This? The weird silence and nature sounds? Downright eerie.

  So was the total abundance of space and darkness. She was used to skies that glowed an unhealthy orange from light pollution, thank you very much. Not this vast threatening void. The stars were pretty, she thought, but it was November. The temperature wasn’t too different from the Bay Area, but still, fifty degrees was a little nippy to be hanging out on the creaky porch, staring at the stars.

  Besides, there was stuff to do.

  She wandered around the small house, making a mental to-do list. When Madison called her in tears, saying her father had died, Thuy had immediately taken time off to help her. Fortunately, her boss at the bioscience library had been very understanding, and she’d found people to cover her shifts. They’d gotten to Tennessee, and she’d helped Maddy through the mundane details of taking care of death.

  They’d need to get rid of everything, Thuy thought. Put the house on the market. She’d heard and seen some cattle on the way in (and wasn’t that a trip — all those cows, right there)… one of the neighbors had said they were feeding them that week, to help out, but the cattle would need to be taken care of. And of course, there was the will reading.

  So many details.

  The brother, Teddy, had never shown up. Maddy didn’t like talking about him, but Thuy knew how much Maddy missed him. Apparently, they’d been close as kids, probably as a united front against their asshole Dad. Thuy had heard
only a little about how strict the man was, and how unhappy he’d been when Maddy had chosen Berkeley for college. He never visited. Of course, given Thuy’s own family history, she wasn’t going to throw stones.

  She sat down at the sturdy oak dining room table, rubbing its surface. It looked like an antique. Most of the things in the house looked old, but in a good way. Again, it was a far cry from the way she’d grown up.

  Because of the stillness of the night, she heard the buzz of an engine before she fully put together what the sound was. Then her body went on full alert.

  That’s not nature.

  That was a motorcycle, something loud and growly.

  She waited by the door, listening as the sound got louder. Whoever it was, was coming up the long-ass driveway that led to the farmhouse, the barn, and the little guest cabin. They were headed there deliberately. That driveway was nearly a half-mile, at least, to the main road.

  Who would be coming here at this time of night? On a bike, no less?

  She felt a prickle of fear. Maddy had mentioned a biker gang in town. If a member of a motorcycle crew were headed out at this time of night, to a deserted farmhouse, they would probably be there to rob the place. Not the most subtle of hits, admittedly. But they were out in the middle of nowhere. How sneaky did someone have to be when the nearest neighbor was miles away?

  And anyone could’ve found out about the funeral, she thought, panic rising. Easier still to find out that the old man was dead, and in a town this small, they’d hear that the only people staying on this desolate property were two women. Off in a farmhouse so far from the main drag, no one would ever hear the screams. Two vulnerable women. One of them pregnant.

  With that, she thought of Maddy, sleeping upstairs. She set her jaw.

  Vulnerable, my ass.

  She went to the hall closet, grabbing the shotgun Maddy had mentioned when they arrived. She opened it quickly, making sure it was loaded. Then she snapped it closed and turned on the porch light as the motorcycle roared to a stop in front of the house.

  She waited until the figure on the bike looked at her. The gun was at her hip, tip down, ready to be tilted up at a moment’s notice.

  “Evening,” she said, feeling a bit like one of those gunslingers in The Magnificent Seven. “Can I help you?”

  It took her eyes a second to adjust to the darkness. He took his helmet off, and she couldn’t help it. She gaped a little.

  Whoever the guy was, he was tall and yoked. He had muscles that bulged the motorcycle leathers he was wearing. He had a shaved head that gleamed and a face that was carved out of marble, with piercing blue eyes that took her in with a lazy perusal that didn’t seem terribly threatened. He looked like an octagon fighter. His full, sensual mouth was quirked up in a smile.

  “You must be the girlfriend.” His voice was deep, rumbling.

  It took her a second to process his words because she was too busy processing his looks. She frowned. “What girlfriend?”

  “Maddy’s girlfriend.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. Who are you, and what do you want?”

  “I’m here to see Maddy.” Now he looked a little more determined. “So you can put the gun down.”

  Instead, she held it tighter. “It’s ten o’clock at night,” she pointed out. “She’s asleep.”

  “So wake her up.” His expression turned irritated. “I need to talk to her.”

  “You can talk to her in the morning.” She didn’t feel scared of him, necessarily, but she got the feeling he was very determined when he wanted to be.

  “Can’t. Now’s the only time I have.” He started to walk towards the door.

  She lifted the barrel of the gun up, and he paused. “I said she’s asleep,” she said carefully, her heart beating fast. “Get on the bike, and beat it. We’re not available for visitors right now.”

  He stared at her, then took a step forward. “Or what? What happens if I don’t leave?” He sounded genuinely curious.

  She took a deep breath, and held the shotgun steady, holding the butt off to one side as the barrel edged closer to where he was standing. “That is a very good question.”

  He studied her for a moment. “You’re holding it all wrong. Haven’t you ever held a gun before? What are you going to do, toss it at me?”

  For a second, she felt like shooting him out of sheer principle. She was holding it that way because it was how her father had taught her: she was too tiny for the recoil of most guns, and if she braced it against herself, she’d dislocate her shoulder. She didn’t feel like telling this stranger that, though.

  “I’ve already called the cops,” she lied, wishing now that she had. She’d gotten so used to avoiding the police, it wasn’t second nature. And besides, what was she going to say? He hadn’t done anything.

  Yet.

  Her muscles tensed.

  He smiled lazily. “Darlin’, I’m not trying to scare you, but this farm is a ways away from town — it takes easily half an hour for anybody from the station to get here. And even if it’s a big county police station, they’ve only got three people assigned to our area. The police are usually too busy to pay much attention to a sleepy little backwater like Green Valley.”

  It was disconcerting, how well he knew the police situation in the area. The reason he was so well versed with the police set up couldn’t be good — he hardly looked like the neighborhood watch type.

  “Then I’ll take care of it myself. Step back,” she growled, as he fearlessly put another foot forward. She prayed she didn’t have to shoot this man. It had been years since she’d been in this position. “Who are you?”

  He smiled, easily… a teeny little bit sexy, she thought traitorously, then grimaced at herself, surprised. Yeah, he was good looking, and he was dangerous. But didn’t she of all people know that “bad boys” were just bad news?

  “I’m Drill,” he said, as if that cleared things up. “And I’m here to talk to Maddy… and get some answers.”

  Get some answers?

  Just like that, the gun went up to point at his head. Her protective instincts roared. “Listen, Drill. Maddy’s my best friend in the world. The only family I’ve got left. I don’t know who you are, or what kind of answers you want, but I’ll say this. If you hurt her, or scare her, or do anything that makes her uncomfortable,” Thuy said, her voice a deadly calm, “Satan’s gonna flinch when he sees what I do to you. Got it?”

  They stood like that, staring at each other, for a long minute. Then Drill’s smile grew wide.

  “Little fireball, aren’t you,” he said, sounding surprised. “I like that.”

  “Thuy? What’s going on?” Maddy’s voice emerged from the doorway, sounding nervous.

  Thuy panicked. “Maddy, go back to…”

  But it was too late. Maddy stepped out on the porch, then took one look at the bald stranger and clapped her hands to her face.

  “Teddy!”

  With surprising speed for a pregnant woman, she flew down the stairs, hurling herself at the biker and throwing her arms around him, to Thuy’s shock.

  “Drill,” he corrected her, with surprising gentleness, hugging her back. “Sweetie, you know it’s Drill now.”

  “Thuy,” Maddy said, ignoring his statement, “this is my brother.”

  Thuy stared at him, putting the gun down and blinking. “This? This is your brother?”

  The guy winked at her. Actually winked.

  Thuy groaned. Well. This promised to be awkward.

  Chapter Four

  She had a gun on me.

  Drill stared at the little woman with a sense of bemusement, unsure of whether to feel insulted or intrigued. She obviously saw him as some kind of thug. And, considering how late he was showing up on their doorstep — and the fact that he was in a biker gang — it wasn’t like she was wrong.

  She was five-foot-nothing, with shoulder-length glossy black hair and eyes so dark they shone like obsidian. Her heart-shaped face was set
in a frown. At least she no longer had the shotgun trained in his direction. There was a flush spreading over her pale skin. Embarrassed, he thought, as he helped his sister back up the stairs.

  “Girl, you are huge,” he couldn’t help but notice, earning himself a swat as Maddy laughed. “How far along are you?”

  “Only seven months,” she said with a sigh, walking through the front door. “By the time I’m nine months, I think I’ll be the size of a tour bus.”

  He turned back to the other woman, who was putting the gun back in the hall closet. “What’s your name?”

  She cleared her throat, saying something quickly. He frowned, unsure he caught it.

  “Your name is… Tweet?”

  “Thuy.” She enunciated more clearly. “It sounds like ‘twee’, but it’s spelled T-H-U-Y.”

  “Chinese?” he guessed, remembering Pete’s announcement at the Dragon Bar.

  She shook her head. “Vietnamese.”

  “And you’re my sister’s bodyguard?” he asked, with a small smile.

  She reddened a little more. “If she needs it, yeah.”

  “And trust me, I’d be in good hands,” Maddy said with feeling, rubbing at the small of her back. “Can I get you anything? We have a ton of food. The Casserole Brigade showed up for the funeral.”

  Right. The funeral. He’d been so intent on seeing his sister, he’d managed to push that out of his mind. Which brought the fact that he was standing here, in his father’s house, after all these years, crashing to the forefront of his mind.

  The place hadn’t changed at all, he noticed. Well, not at the heart of it. It had gotten older, more weathered, but nothing had been deliberately altered — which would’ve been just like his old man. The same battered maple cabinets. Same oak table, with its mismatched chairs. Same light gold linoleum, only worn in some spots. Same old beige fridge and matching stove. He could still remember his mother pulling bread out of that beige oven, cinnamon bread, rolled in a tight spiral with plenty of cinnamon sugar and raisins.