by Jen Davis
“Nah.” She struggled to keep her voice even. “We’ll all get together for the Sunday dinner I’ve got planned next weekend. You guys can go ahead and have some quality time together now. I’ve got a ton of papers to grade, but make him give you my driver’s license. I need it to drive to work Monday.”
Izzy’s eyebrows flew up, and it appeared she planned to press for more, but the waitress returned with their next course before she could speak. Iz could always see right through her bullshit. Ever since their parents had died more than a decade ago, they’d been more than sisters—more than friends. Especially while Will had been in prison, they were the only family each other had.
Still, she did not want to retread what happened last night.
Carol snickered. “Sounds like the same excuse you gave me when I tried to get you to have dinner with Rosita and me last Saturday night.”
A crinkle formed between Izzy’s brow as she frowned at Liv. “I thought you liked Rosita.”
True. Carol’s girlfriend was awesome. She’d been a total rock throughout the chemo treatments, everything Carol’s now ex-husband hadn’t been the first time she got sick. A loud and boisterous spitfire, Rosita clearly loved Carol with her whole heart. And she would have ripped Liv a new one without a moment’s hesitation for jumping out—
Oh, shit.
Carol swallowed a spoonful of broth. “She didn’t want to face the music…”
Liv shook her head frantically.
“…for our skydiving trip.”
Thunderclouds passed over Izzy’s eyes. “Your. What?”
A grin teased the corner of Carol’s lips. Wily bitch. She’d done it on purpose.
“Skydiving,” Liv murmured. “It was on the list.”
Jaw locked, Iz pushed away the plate, half her food untouched. “You know how I feel about your damn list.” Her sister glared at her, then Carol, and back again, as if she couldn’t decide where to lay the blame. “There’s got to be a better way to celebrate your survival.”
“You don’t understand.”
Izzy stood abruptly, her napkin falling off her lap onto the floor. “No. You don’t understand. I just got my family back together.”
“And I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to see me more than ever now since I’m coming to your gym.” She placed her hand on Izzy’s arm. “Don’t be mad.”
Iz stood still for a moment before nodding once and dropping four twenties on the table. “I’ll text you the class schedule.” She left without saying goodbye.
Liv glared at Carol, who casually moved the noodles around in her bowl. “Why did you do that?”
“She needs to stop babying you. And you need to stop tiptoeing around her. She’s your blood. You need someone you can share your secrets with.”
“I’ve got you, don’t I?” She shook off her irritation and stuffed a piece of her shrimp tempura roll into her mouth.
Carol’s face took on a look she couldn’t read. Her friend opened her mouth, then closed it with a small shake of her head. She probably planned to give her another lecture on the importance of family, but thankfully, changed her mind.
“You know she flipped out when I showed her the pictures from cliff diving.” Izzy gave her a verbal beat down and epic shaming, all rolled into one. A lecture about how Iz thought remission meant she could finally stop worrying about planning her own sister’s funeral. Lots of yelling. Tears.
“Some secrets are better kept undercover, but I’ve got one begging to be shared.” She leaned closer to Carol. “I met a guy.”
“Forgive me if I withhold my enthusiasm. Your taste in men leans a bit toward the stuffy asshat end of the spectrum.” Carol had never met Ryan, but Liv had showed her some pictures, and more importantly, told her a few stories. “Let me guess. A pasty-white investment banker who wears a custom suit to work every day. No. A politician. Phony and full of himself.”
“Hey, not fair.” At least not entirely. “He works with my brother. In construction, thank you.”
Carol sat up straighter. “A man who works with his hands. I like it. Go on.”
“Will hates him. Or at least he hates the idea of me anywhere near him.” She sipped her iced tea, watching Carol practically vibrating in her chair. “He’s not even remotely pasty. Plus, he’s big as a fucking house, and he thinks I’m beautiful.”
“Damn straight. You are.”
Now she took a turn playing with her food. “The only problem is he thinks he’d be trouble for me.” She deflated at the memory. “He said I’d be better off staying away.”
Carol eyed her speculatively. “But what do you think?”
She wrinkled her nose. She had zero faith in her decision-making ability at this point. Rarely had she ever put herself out there, and when she did, she ended up with douchebags like Ryan in her life. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.
“We’ve talked about this,” Carol soothed. “You need to figure out who you want to be and live your life to support your choice. All those times we sat together in the treatment room, you told me you wanted to take your life in a different direction. Do you want to be the old Liv or the new one?” Leaning over, her friend tugged on her extensions. “Stop waffling about this guy and tell me. What. Do. You. Think?”
Her heart sped up, and the tingling in her chest came back with a vengeance. “I think,” she drawled as she opened her eyes, “I need a little more trouble in my life.”
“You’re damn right, you do.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Liv
A cop was going to pull her over.
Liv eased her foot off the accelerator, slowing the car down. Surely ten miles an hour under the speed limit was better than five. She hit her blinker half a block before her turn, gritting her teeth as some dickhead honked and passed on the left.
It didn’t matter if there were no police in sight. Driving without a license could get her a ticket she couldn’t afford, and for what felt like the hundredth time since Friday night, she cursed her brother under her breath.
Izzy had done her part and had asked Will to hand over her ID at dinner the night before, but he’d conveniently left it at home.
A terse text exchange later and he promised to drop it off this morning. But then he didn’t show up, and she’d had to go to work without it. Now she was back at his construction site to get the damn thing herself.
She jumped out of her car and stalked toward the trailer set up on the side of the property. Robby stood right outside the door, scribbling on his clipboard.
He looked up when her foot crunched into an empty water bottle. “Hey.” The grin spreading across his face quickly died when he caught her expression. He advanced down the three wooden stairs to meet her. “Is everything okay?”
“Is my brother here?” She winced at the hard edge to her voice. It wasn’t Robby’s fault her brother had pissed her off.
“I’m sorry.” He toed over some sawdust on the ground with his suede work-boot. “I sent him to go pick up some supplies. Can I give him a message?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten in her head. “Ask him to drop my license off in my mailbox before he goes home.” She breathed deep. “Please.”
“Sure.” He backed up the steps without turning around. “I’ll go write up a note for him now.”
Great. She’d chased away a perfectly nice guy who had only been trying to help her out. Spinning on her heel, she considered a dozen ways to get her brother back for being a pain in her ass. Putting sugar in his salt shaker. Signing him up to Hair Club for Men. Filling his shampoo bottle with Nair.
Plotting her ideas for her revenge, she didn’t even look right in front of her. Until she stepped into a wall of broad chest and black cotton. The impact almost knocked her back, but two expansive hands wrapped around her upper arms and steadied her.
She recognized Brick without even seeing his face. She had an awareness of him she couldn’t quantify.
Her body softened in his g
rip.
Those hands. She wanted them everywhere.
Her knees threatened to give out from the nearness of him.
“You’re better off staying far away from me.”
She locked her legs and steeled her spine at the memory of his rebuke at the bar. “You can let me go now.”
The cords of his neck tensed. Then, he released her and stepped back, giving her a full look at the man who’d been plaguing her thoughts for days now. A dusting of stubble shadowed his jaw. His brown eyes searched hers and tightened as if he had found something he didn’t like. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
He gave every indication of genuine concern. His hand even reached toward her—for a second, anyway—before he clenched his fist and dropped it to his side.
Here comes trouble.
Because, oh yeah, he wanted to touch her.
A tickle of excitement swept up her spine, and all the irritation she’d carried a moment before dissipated like a flash summer storm giving way to gentle breezes and blue skies. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip before flashing a wicked smile. “I am now.”
Bold as brass, she swept her gaze over his powerful arms and muscular chest. “I didn’t find what I was looking for, but I definitely like what I see.”
Brick’s jaw dropped, and it would have been downright funny if she wasn’t so busy basking in her sass.
Something kept this guy from pursuing her, but it sure as hell wasn’t a lack of chemistry. More convinced than ever, she decided her first read on Brick Barlow had hit the bullseye. The attraction tugging her toward him went both ways.
She winked—WINKED—before gliding past him, her arm brushing his on the way to the car. She had no guarantee he would watch her leave, but she put an extra sway in her step just in case.
Let him see what he was missing.
She didn’t think about her brother or her missing license again the entire drive home.
***
Brick
Brick pushed thoughts of Olivia and her surprise appearance at the site out of his mind as he pulled his truck to a red light. Robby said she’d been there looking for her brother. It had nothing to do with him. Even in his head, she had no place in this sewer he called a life. Especially when he was on the job.
His other job.
He had to break in one of Sucre’s newer thugs tonight.
Tre had been roughing up guys for the boss about a year now, but this would be his first kill. He looked a little too excited about the idea.
“What’s your favorite way to do it?” The recruit asked the question for a second time, and Brick didn’t plan to give him any more of an answer now than he did before.
The first time he’d ever taken a life, he’d thrown up on the floor right next to the body. No one knew, but the truth didn’t need any witnesses. Marty Zimmerman’s dead eyes still haunted him to this day. Marty had only been sixteen years old, but at the time, so was he. Sucre had given him no choice. It was kill or be killed.
He’d spent half his life as a killer, and he didn’t enjoy the job any more now than he did then. His body grew bigger, and with practice, he’d become more efficient. He definitely didn’t throw up anymore, but he had no favorite way to kill somebody. It was simply what he had to do to keep his grandmother alive.
Sucre’s crew grew with each passing year, and with it, so did his reach. He also had back-up plans and schemes in place designed to survive even if someone ever took him out. Knowing the consequences of the man’s wrath gave Brick all the motivation he needed to do his job.
Somehow, he thought it would be different for Tre. He’d bet a hundred bucks the kid had a boner right now.
They headed back to Pete’s place. The junkie had come up with a little cash to buy himself a few days, but now the clock had run out. If he had any kind of sense, he’d be nowhere near his apartment.
Then again, no one with sense borrowed money from Sucre.
Tre practically vibrated in the passenger seat of Brick’s truck. “Maybe I’ll slit his throat. Whataya think? Or maybe slice open his gut and pull out his intestines. Send a message.”
He ground his teeth. There was no one to send a message to; everyone in the neighborhood already knew what would happen if they crossed the boss. This was simply the required follow-through. It didn’t matter if it got messy or not because no one would ever see it.
“We’ve gotta dump the body when we’re done, Tre. You understand, right?”
Tre shrugged and glanced out the window. His knee bounced a mile a minute. “Yeah, I know. It’s the principle of the thing. A man’s got to take pride in his work.”
A man. He almost rolled his eyes. Tre couldn’t be more than nineteen. Breaking people didn’t make you a man. It made you a monster.
He pulled into the parking lot and cut the ignition. “This is your show, Tre. I’m only here to make sure it doesn’t go south.”
Tre grinned widely, showcasing the shiny gold tooth where his upper left incisor should be. His remaining white teeth were a sharp contrast to his dark brown skin. “I got this, bro. One day they’re gonna say my name with the same kind of respect they say yours.” He whistled the opening strains of “Time is on My Side.” Sounded creepy as fuck.
Tre elbowed him in the side, but with no force behind it. “You like? I heard it in an old Denzel movie once. Thinking about making it my signature song. People hear me coming, they piss their pants.” He repeated the same notes over and over, anticipation building on his face.
Fear was not the same thing as respect. Tre would learn that one day when he realized no one invited him to their kitchen table. No one wanted to introduce him to their family. No one wanted him near their kids.
It was a lesson learned only through experience.
He followed Tre’s strutting form across the blacktop. Tonight, the cracked pavement was deserted, like something on the wind warned away even the natural predators who called this place home.
Tre kicked in the door without even trying the knob. “Mother fucker!” He swiped at a rickety lamp, sending it flying across the room. It landed about two feet from Pete’s body, which now sprawled out on the living room floor. The junkie lay in his own filth, covered in vomit with a needle still hanging from his arm.
He thanked the dead man silently for doing the job himself. It actually happened far more often than Sucre knew. At least a third of his hits ended up foiled by suicides or overdoses where he only had to clean up the mess. Dead was dead. He got the credit either way.
Tre didn’t share his pragmatism. “Goddamn pussy.” He shook his head. “At least we don’t have to deal with the body now.”
The kid wasn’t thinking this through. “The fuck we don’t. We can’t let people think they can escape Sucre with an O.D. He’s got to disappear, like anyone else would. Otherwise Sucre looks weak. You look weak.” He didn’t explain they’d have to punish Pete’s family if word got out he had killed himself. No way would he touch the guy’s little girl, who by some small mercy was noticeably absent from the apartment.
Thankfully, Tre didn’t have the smarts or experience to figure it out himself. Otherwise, he would’ve probably been chomping at the bit to find another target. “Shit, man, you’re right. Thanks.” The kid surveyed the room. “Where do we start?”
“We start with a tarp.” He pulled the black, folded, plastic sheet from the backpack he carried on all his jobs. “We roll him up. Get him out. And leave the rest for the rats.”
***
Brick didn’t realize he’d hoped to catch a glimpse of Olivia at the construction site again the next morning until he recognized his pang of disappointment when he didn’t see Will with the crew. In fact, only a handful of the guys were there when he arrived. Even stranger, he saw no sign of Robby, only Kane and Matt.
He didn’t know Matt very well. The guy kept to himself, did the work, went home. He was black—clean-cut, twenty-five or so—and he usually wore a nice T-shirt or polo tucked in
to his khakis. Today, he had on a bright green tee with a pocket over his heart. He appeared to be a much safer man to be around than Kane with the biker’s arms sleeved in tattoos and the scar cutting across his cheek. But appearances could be deceiving. Matt could be a church deacon or a serial killer, for all Brick knew.
Kane wandered over as soon as Brick climbed out of his truck. “Crew’s split today. The company won a last-minute bid on a big place in Decatur.”
“So why didn’t they put another team on it? Xander’s not the only foreman they’ve got.”
Kane gave a short nod. “True. But he’s the best.” He lifted one shoulder. “And since we’re his crew, we’re the best, brother. So, they want us.”
Hard to argue there. Splitting everyone up would slow down both jobs, but at least everyone had stable work for a while.
They planned to finish up the subflooring so they could get started on the walls. It was his favorite part of any build. It warmed him seeing the bones of the house taking shape.
Matt nodded as they joined him on the slab. They all worked in easy silence until about eleven-thirty when Kane called for a lunch break. “Guess we’ve got no pizza today. Tell me what you want, and I’ll run over to the deli around the corner.”
“I’ll go,” Matt said mildly, the first words Brick had heard from him in months of working together.
Matt took their orders and stuck the cash in his back pocket as he walked to his car.
Kane stroked his beard. “I saw you talking to Will’s sister the other night.”
Fuck. He carefully blanked his face. “Sure. She seems like a nice girl.”
Kane laughed…a rich, full-belly laugh. The man never did anything halfway. “You want to play it low-key? She’s a nice girl? So you wouldn’t mind if I hit that? ‘Cause you see, I think a pretty little thing like her would taste like honey between her legs and—” He stopped talking and grinned when Brick started growling.
