His glare turns almost violent. Despite our history, the blood we have in common, if it came to it, Jack would kill me. It eases my discomfort a little knowing he’d hesitate, but in the end, it’s his club, hisrealfamily, before everything else. Including me. Especially me.
“Youbetterbe fuckin’ joking. Otherwise you better take these cuffs off so I can properly beat the shit out of you.”
Movement outside the passenger window catches my attention. Miller. He props himself up against the brick wall outside Kuppajoe, my sandwich in tow, his phone pressed to his ear. I give him a nod, and he rolls his eyes and mouthsSergeant.
“What the hell do you care who Grace is sleeping with?” I ask, once again twisting to face my brother. “The way I hear it, you’vebeen pretty vocal about not wanting her back in South Bay. She got your message, brother, loud and clear.”
His anger dissipates slightly, his expression turning a little haunted, and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but then promptly closes it.
“What?” I goad him. “Out with it.”
He sets his jaw in response. Right. No one talks.
I’m about to turn back around, when he says, “You ever think about it? What he did to her?”
My gut sinks. Our father. The man whose DNA binds us. He hurt Grace. Enough to leave marks, to bruise. She was a girl, and he threw her around almost as bad as he threw her mother, Jack’s mother, around.
I nod. “Sometimes, yeah.”
“Well, I think about itallthe time.” He lets out a long breath, dropping his gaze. “We should have killed him that night. Before everything got fucked up. Letting him live after what he did to her, marking her up like that. It was a mistake. We should have put him in the ground that first night.”
“Yeah.” I rough a hand down my face. “Yeah, we should have.”
“It’s our fault. Him coming back, doing what he did. None of that shit would have happened if I’d just fucking killed him when I had the chance.”
A lot of shit would be different if he had. At least for the club. I would have ended up here somehow regardless. Every iteration of this life, every path, every timeline, they all still would have led here. Me taking a life. Serving justice.
“I owe you,” he grits out. “You protected her. You saw what he did, and you stopped it. I’ll always owe you.”
I knew it the moment I saw her that night. The way she struggled to get over my fence, how she limped across my yard to that damn treehouse. Could see the bruises, even in the dark.I told Jack. It wasn’t my business. Club politics. But Grace was a young girl. Still a teenager. I couldn’t let that slide. It’s what started all this.
“I’m not keeping score.” I sigh. “Not with you.”
He leans back, nose still bloody, jaw still tight with emotion. “It’s weird.”
“What is?”
“You and Grace.”
Movement outside again, then Miller is wandering towards the car. I turn back towards the street, surveying my brother through my rearview. “Yeah. I know.”
“You treating her well?”
“No,” I admit.
He grunts. “Hope she kicks your ass for that.”
“Your sister’s got a hell of a punch.”
He huffs a low laugh. “She’s a scrapper. My mom was like that too. Tough as nails.”
“She shouldn’t have to be. If you weren’t being such an asshole, maybe she wouldn’t feel the need to come to me for help when she should be turning to you, to the club.”
His body goes rigid, his eyes sharp. “Help? What do you mean by that?”
Miller pulls open the car door, and I clamp my mouth shut. My partner’s timing is impeccable today.
He tosses me my paper-wrapped sub. “Sergeant is tickled pink. Ready to play hero?”
