With a final drag, I turn around. I throw the butt to the ground, stomp it out, pick it up, and throw it in the garbage can. If I disturb the order here, Brooks goes nuts. The intent to kill is already clear in his eyes and I don’t want to get on that side of him. That’s for that lowlife.
I move the desk chair, which is standing by itself in a corner, about two feet in front of him, and sit on it. Resting my elbowson the backrest, I look at him. “All I want to know is your name. The rest I’ll leave to my good friend here.” I nod at Brooks.
The blond man’s eyes get big. “What the fuck?” He aimlessly jerks at the ropes.
“No, that’s not your name.” I shake my head and cast a theatrical glance at my watch. “You have one minute.” I keep looking at my silver Breitling. “Thirty seconds.”
Instead of answering me, he yanks at the ropes harder and harder.
“Ten seconds,” I say and nod to Brooks. The latter takes two steps closer, a Bowie knife in hand.
“Perez,” the man blurts at the last moment. “Joey Perez.”
Brooks rolls his eyes, lowers the knife, and turns to me. Holding up my hand, I say, “Perez.” I wait a moment for dramatic effect. “I still have some questions, though. Who sent you and who do you work for?”
Of course, he remains silent.
I nod at Brooks, and a wide grin appears on his face. Without warning, he plants his knife in Perez’s thigh.
“Fuck.” Joey closes his eyes briefly, then lowers his head. “Vanderberg, all right. He wants the wife. I don’t know why. Something to do with the accountant. That’s all I know, I swear.”
Brooks cranes his neck.
“Come on, I really don’t know shit.” With eyes wide, Perez looks up at Brooks. Drops of sweat fall down his forehead.
I turn my attention to Brooks and hold my thumb and index finger about two inches apart. “Just a bit. He may still report what happened.” With those words, I get up from the chair and walk toward the door.
“Come on, man. Don’t leave me here alone with him.”
Instantly, I turn and lean on the arms of his chair. “If you’d left Layne alone, you wouldn’t be sitting here. Risk of the trade, right?” I shrug and leave the hangar.
Once outside, I rub my face. Shit, shit, shit. This is all so fucked up. I need more info and fast. This can’t go on like this. I round the corner and run into my little brother.
Rolling my eyes, I look up at him. “Not now, dammit.”
“You fucked up.”
I turn and throw my fist against his jaw. “I said, not now. What the hell isn’t clear about that?”
My little brother grabs my shirt. “I’ll let that one slide, but if you fucking hit me one more time—”
“Then what?” I raise my chin. “You think I need you to rub it in my fucking face? Like you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing, Pax. You’re the one who always figures things out by himself first, so don’t bother trying to lecture me. She could’ve died.” My nose almost touches his.
Pax pushes me away. “You could’ve let me know you were going, would’ve been the least you could do. You called Brooks.”
“He’s my best friend,” I growl.
“I’m your brother, fuckface.” He turns and wants to walk away, but before he can, I grab his shoulder.
I look straight at him and say, “Mylittlebrother. I know you’re in the MC and that you’ve probably done more shit than I. But you’ll always be my little brother and I’ll protect you. When I’m in trouble, I call my best friend.”
Pax jerks away, and his blue eyes shoot fire. “Protect me,” he sneers. “What the fuck do you need to protect? The last time I looked in the mirror…” He doesn’t finish his sentence and walks away from me before I can say anything.
I know exactly what he was going to say, though. My little brother is a bigger dick than I’ve ever been. Despite everything I’ve done to Layne, Dad has more faith in me than he does in Pax. Simply because he can be a total nutcase sometimes. He reacts with his heart, not his head. The bastard needs protection for all the reckless shit he does based on feelings. He needsprotection to keep that beautiful heart safe. He needs protection from himself. With a deep sigh, I look up at the apartment before taking the first step in her direction and letting my little brother go.
I stand in front of the apartment door, but it’s blocked by something heavy. “Layne, it’s me. Open up.”
There is a soft tap on the wood. “Ky?” Her voice is thick and muffled by the door.
