I raise an eyebrow. “Do I?”
The big one shoots his friend a look before turning back to me. “Brenning’s low on muscle since the Seventh Street raid,” he tells me. “He has a shipment coming in next month. Big. Ten percent is a fuck-ton of money on this one. Unless you want some of that in goods...?”
I take a long swig of my beer, staring the guy down. He’s trying to get me to say something — anything — incriminating. Not a fucking chance. Instead, I switch things up on him.
“Seventh Street. Has he found out if that was an inside job?” I ask. “Word on the street is some of his guys got busted a while back, only they made a deal. I’ve heard they’re sucking dick for the cops now. That the Seventh Street bust was a set up.”
The lead guy’s lip twitches for a second, but otherwise he remains stone-faced. His friends Tall and Short are a different story. They both flinch at my question and their eyes dart around wildly, avoiding eye contact with me.
Well, hello, fuckers.
Once I’m done with them, I might surprise Brenning with a little present. He’ll be thrilled to know the rats have been ousted from his crew. I’ll even gift wrap these bitches before I deliver them to his doorstep.
But not before I have a little fun.
I grip my beer tight, debating whether to use it against the big fuck’s skull — or to just go old fashioned and get my rocks off by splitting some knuckles open.
The big guy shakes his head. “Nah, man. The FBI’s been on Brenning’s ass for years. He’s just getting paranoid.”
I chug the rest of my beer. No reason to waste it. Then I stand up, closing the distance between my desk and these fucks with a few slow steps.
“Bullshit,” I tell them. “The FBI doesn’t raid a storehouse like that unless they’ve received very recent and very pertinent information.”
Allen and Magnus straighten up, ready to spring into action, but I lift two fingers of my right hand and gesture for them to stay where they are. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good three-on-one. Need to stay sharp.
More than that, I hate the ever-present roil of self-loathing nestled in my gut. The bigger the fight, the less time I have to focus on that. A good fight numbs me like nothing else. And right now, I’ve got a lot of fucking feelings to beat down. I need an army of fists swinging at me.
Fuck my brother. Fuck him for abandoning me to play the hero. Fuck him for coming home all self-righteous and making me feel like this. And that asshole friend of his, Gunner. Says this isn’t who I have to be? Bullshit.
This is what I’m good at. This is who I am.
Tall and Short become antsy as I approach, and the big fucker eyes me warily. “Hey, man, I don’t know what went down with Seventh Street, alright? But Brenning’s over it. He’s moved on to bigger things. You going to move forward with us, or what? We need an answer.”
“Oh, you need a fucking answer, do ya?”
His eyes are drawn to my beer bottle as I give it a little toss. The ass end turns into the air, and I grab hold of the neck. In one fluid motion, before he has a chance to bring his arm up to block it, I swing forward with all the momentum of my frame, crashing the thick bottom of the bottle into the man’s temple.
It doesn’t break, so I swing again, blood erupting from a wide split at his hairline. One more swing, and the bottle shatters against his skull, implanting shards of glass.
It all happens within a few seconds. He might be bigger than me, but I’m fucking quick and right now, I’m driven by a deep fury, the like of which these assholes have never seen before.
The guy drops to the floor on his knees, wobbling wildly as he swings his arms, grabbing for the back of my legs, trying to unbalance me.
I let go of the bottle and step back.
Hatred boils up in me. Hatred for him, for myself, for this goddamn bar and the shithole I’ve made of my life. I channel all my rage into my muscles until it completely consumes me. I drive my foot up with all the force I have, and my boot catches him under the chin.
His head snaps back and his body stiffens, his arms flying into the air before he goes completely limp.
He’s nothing more than pulp when he hits the floor.
I look up, a snarl on my lips, to confront the remaining two. I wanted them to jump me, to give me something to really rail against. But they’re standing in shock as their buddy slumps over, unconscious.
Finally, one lowers his shoulder rushes at me in an attempted tackle. I step aside just enough to let him pass, giving him a good shove to aid his momentum. He face-fucks the wall, and his head ruptures the drywall.
He rebounds and turns in just enough time to receive a hard-driving punch right to his face. My fist flattens against his cheek and he staggers back. I follow him back to the wall, another vicious punch with each step. His blood splatters my arm, my shirt, my face, as his nose breaks and jaw pops.
He hits the ground like a fifty pound sack of flour, and I stomp on his head to make sure the fucker is out cold, the tread of my boot imprinted in the side of his temple.
The last asshole hasn’t made a goddamn sound, and I know he’s the chicken-shit of the group.
I turn around, and sure enough, he hasn’t moved a goddamn inch. His hands are up in a pleading stance, but I don’t even give a fuck.
He doesn’t get to walk away from this.
Not when he brought this shit to my door.
The fire in my veins is still burning bright, and I’m not finished. He needs to know the pain of broken bones, the horror of seeing his own blood spilled on the floor. Then maybe he’ll understand who he’s decided to fuck with.
I reach right past his outstretched hands, grab onto his shirt, and yank him forward — right into my hard right hook. The guy’s head reels back, but he stays on his feet. I keep hold of his shirt, my fist pistoning forward, smashing into him again.
His legs give out below him, and I follow him to the ground, my fist bloodying every inch of his face. I don’t stop until I feel teeth giving way.
I sit back on my heels, breathing hard, staring at the three unconscious men on the floor. Goddammit, that was way too fucking easy. I needed a brutal fucking brawl, and all I got was a little boxing practice.
I stand up, scoffing in disgust and disappointment as I wave a hand at the bodies. “Take them all to Brenning. Let him decide what to do with them.”
Allen and Magnus get to work, grabbing Tall and Short by their boots, dragging them out of the office and toward the back door.
I tower over the big guy, rage seeping from me, needing more from his lifeless frame than he can give me. I look down at the man, at the mess I have made of him, and feel no relief. My shoulders drop, and the snarl fades from my lips.
“Ramsey,” I yell.
It only takes a few seconds for him to appear in the doorway, his wide eyes taking in the scene. “Yeah, boss?”
I step over the body on the floor and move toward the door. “A bottle of Jameson. And bring a couple girls back here.”
He nods eagerly. “You got it. Any preferences?”
“Doesn’t fucking matter. And I need some uppers.”
Ramsey digs into his pocket and tosses me a prescription bottle. “You got it. I’ll be right back. Jameson and two girls. Want me to put them in the room?” he asks, nodding his head to the door across the hall.
I pop two pills and swallow them dry. “Yeah. Hurry the fuck up.”
My man Ramsey hustles out the door just as Magnus comes back in for the third asshole. He drags him out as unceremoniously as the others. And now it’s empty in here. Except for the blood. And a few teeth.
I flex my hands into a fist and then stretch my palms out, the ache in the fingers settling in now that my adrenaline is abating. I usually fucking love the pain of a good fight, but right now it feels like a hollow victory.
There’s blood on my knuckles, just like I wanted. Some of it might even be mine. But there’s also a whisper in my head I didn’
t ask for.
I can still hear Jude’s voice, still feel the angst of his disappointment. I can hear his buddy Gunner now, too. I can feel his strong hands on my body, his lips against mine.
But none of it matters. I’m not the man they think I am. I’m not the man either of them deserve. I never will be. I tore my heart out long ago to become the monster I am now. It might have started with unleashing vengeance for my fallen friends, but it didn’t stop there. And now, there’s no going back.
Ramsey returns, a grin on his face as he holds out an unopened bottle of Jameson. “Got a couple eager ones for you, boss.”
The girls smile at me from the hallway. They barely look a day over twenty. They still have the light of youth and innocence in their eyes. Fuckers like me haven’t torn it from them yet. But I will — if I stay. If I take them into that room with me, I’ll take everything from them, and leave them as empty as myself. I’ve done it to so many already.
My breath deepens, and my hands shake. The snarl returns.
But it’s not anger. It’s hatred. My monster is back, the one that rides my back, the one that will hound me straight to hell. And I hate it. I hate everything about the vestige of a man I’ve become.
I push past Ramsey, grabbing the Jameson from him as I go. The girls scramble out of my way as I storm out the back exit of the bar, where my bike is parked. Ignoring the calls of Allen and Magnus, I shove the bottle into my saddlebag and rev my beast to life.
I can’t be here right now. I’m not sure if I can even be here at all anymore. Here or anywhere.
Some time in the proceeding days is when I called my brother. I still can’t remember. I can’t remember if I just missed my brother’s voice in my final moments and I called to tell him goodbye, or if I thought my soul still had a chance and I had the illusion of confessing to him as my priest, to rid myself of my sins before traveling on from this world.
Whatever it was, I let it all out to him. And he was there. That fucker found me before it was too late, and he’s been my home ever since.
The sound of footsteps pulls me back to the present, and I turn away from the view of the sunrise to see my brother approaching. Speak of the devil.
“Hey,” he says, tipping his chin at me. “What are you doing up here all by yourself?”
“Thinking,” I say quietly.
“Yeah?” Jude studies me, reading me like he always does. His expression grows somber. “That was a lifetime ago, you know.”
I nod. “It was.”
Jude puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay to let it go.”
I draw in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I know.”
“Well, I’m gonna go take a shower. I’ll leave you to it,” he says, turning to head back downstairs.
I reach up and grab his hand just before he pulls it from my shoulder. “Jude?”
He stops and turns back to me, concern in his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“For what?”
I stand up so I’m eye to eye with him, my expression and tone filled with grave sincerity. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, we both know that.”
He shakes his head quietly and looks away. We don’t talk about that time. And we rarely say much to each other, but this has been a long time coming and I’ve got to get it out while I can.
I try to keep my voice even, but I can’t. Emotion pours out in every word. “Thank you for always believing in the best of me. For being there when I needed you most. For bringing me back from the dead.”
He swallows hard, still looking away, and I see the slightest tremor in his body, his chest barely rising with shallow breath.
“Hey, look at me,” I say.
It takes a moment, but finally he turns his gaze to mine, and when he does, there are tears shining in his eyes.
“You are my anchor, Jude. You always have been. I know you didn’t ask for that job, but you’ve done it your whole life and never complained once about the burden it’s caused you.”
“It was never a burden, Jax. You’re my fucking brother. Even if we weren’t related, I would choose you as my brother. Every damn day, I would choose you.”
“Me, too,” I tell him. “Always.”
We aren’t huggers, the two of us, but right now that’s exactly what needs to happen. I don’t hesitate. I throw my arms around him and wrap him up in a bear hug.
“I love you, Jude,” I say, swallowing back tears as I grip him tight.
He squeezes me back and his voice catches as he says, “I love you, too, goddammit.”
A moment later he pulls away, and we both sniff loudly and clear our throats. He pats me on the chest then heads back down to grab a shower. I settle into my chair once again and return my gaze to the beautiful view.
Eventually, I close my eyes, letting the tranquility of the quiet morning and the warmth of the rising sun lull me into a blissful stupor. There’s a heaviness inside me, but it’s comfortable, like a weighted blanket.
My heart is full, my mind is at peace, and my body is fully relaxed. Maybe this is how Trigg feels when he does meditation. If so, I think I finally get it.
I don’t know how long I sit there, the sun heating my body, the sounds of waves and bird songs mingled with gentle lapping of water against the hull of the yacht. But this is exactly where I’m meant to be. I know that now.
I’m happy. Content.
My life looks nothing like it used to, except for the scars I still carry. Pentabyte is a far cry from the shady shit I used to call business. I’m in a company that actually helps people now. My work brings meaning; our company supports entire families. My friends are good men. They helped me escape that life, and even more — they helped me become a better man.
And Emma. God, Emma. She stitched together those last wrecked, broken pieces of me, tore down the rest of the walls I’d kept up, and loved me fiercely through it all.
I didn’t think I needed it. I thought I was as good as I was going to get. Mended, but not whole. Never whole.
But then she came along, and my life will never be the same. She’s brought it all full circle.
She gave me back myself.
6
I’VE NEVER SEEN HIM looking so good.
Happiness sits well on Jax. It’s something he hasn’t had enough of. He tips his chin in recognition of my approach, and I settle into the chair next to him.
It’s early in the morning, but what a glorious morning it is. I just crawled out of a bed made for six, my woman still wrapped soundly in the sheets, and my best friends slowly waking up to greet the day.
And now I’m sitting beside Jax, looking at a view of paradise. I can’t decide which I like better — the endless stretch of tropical ocean laid out before us, or that blissful smile on his face.
Who am I kidding? Jax will always capture my attention.
I can’t help myself. He looks so relaxed. I lean over and wrap my hand around the back of his neck. He leans forward to meet me, and our kiss is uncharacteristically tender.
We’re usually a force to be reckoned with, he and I.
But this morning is different.
I think a lot is going to be different from here on out.
Our lips linger together in slow kisses, a greeting of affection and happiness. I pull back just enough to look into those bright blue eyes of his. The smile on his lips is there in his gaze, too. Today, he’s smiling from the inside out.
“You look good when you’re happy,” I tell him. “I like it.”
That smile slips away for just a second then reappears, widening into a grin. “I like it, too, Gunner.”
I move to a chair opposite of him and lift my legs onto his lap, flattening the sole of my bare foot against his abdomen. Jax runs a hand along my calves and shins, massaging gently as he stares out at the horizon. There’s a hint of a far-off look in his expression, but then he draws in a deep breath and lets it out in a contented sigh.
&n
bsp; I turn to watch the rising sun with him, both of us drinking in the glorious view. Jax’s calm, relaxed vibe is catching. Even I’m feeling more laid back than usual. Today it’s nothing but us and the ocean — no worries, no troubles on the horizon, nothing to interrupt our bliss.
My coffee and orange juice is delivered quietly as we gaze at the sunrise, as well as a tempting platter of sliced tropical fruits. I offer a piece of mango to Jax, and he leans forward to bite it right from my hand, his lips touching my fingertips.
We’ve all found our happy place, finally.
This life of ours, it’s going to be good.
“Are the others up yet?” he asks.
“Yeah. Jude was in the shower when I got up. Trigg and Daniel were just getting out of bed. Emma was still buried under the sheet, but she was stirring a little. I think we wore her out last night.”
He nods, his lips drawn into a grin before sucking another piece of mango down. “Goddamn, if we didn’t, we have a real challenge on our hands,” he says as he chews.
I lift my juice into the air as a salute. “I accept that challenge.”
“I bet you do,” Jax says with an amused sparkle in his eyes.
Jude emerges from the interior of the ship, full coffee cup already in hand. He nods at us. “Gentlemen.”
“If you say so, but I don’t think any of us were all that gentlemanly last night,” I say with a laugh.
Jude swats me on the back of the head, but his eyes are sparkling with amusement. “Speaking of which, Emma’s up. And I asked the chef for today’s menu options.”
Right on time, a steward in a crisp white uniform appears, placing stiff placards in front of each place setting. I reach for the closest one and skim the menu.
Half a dozen opulent choices for both lunch and dinner are listed, allowing us to order ahead and have our preferences ready for us. Between the fresh seafood and the prime steaks and the exotic dishes I can’t even pronounce, it’s evident that no expense is being spared. Just the way we want it.
Trigg is the next to join us on the deck, and it’s quickly becoming apparent that a theme in our attire has emerged — so far, we’ve all opted for light linen pants and no shirt.
Tempting Offer: A Reverse Harem Romance (The Code Book 6) Page 7
