Page 15 of Bruiser's Reckoning

“Yeah?” I answer the call, not bothering to look at the screen, eyes focused on my brother, seeing him getting shit-faced and making what could be his biggest mistake.

“We’ve got a problem,” Colt says, releasing a heavy breath.

“What kind of problem?” I ask, finally looking away from Bruiser to meet Malice’s gaze.

“Well, for one, after the funeral, Gwyneth locked herself away in her room, then this morning, we followed her at the ass crack of dawn to the gym where she worked out with Rico for two solid hours, then ran fuckin’ five miles. Now, we’re back at her place and she’s barring us from coming inside the apartment. Said she no longer needs or wants a babysitter,” Colt reports. “I’m pretty sure the damn woman hasn’t even eaten in days.”

“She talk to y’all any about what happened?”

None of this sits well with me. I saw the way she reacted to Bruiser, and I didn’t miss my brother’s reaction to her. Anyone who witnessed them the day they met couldn’t miss it.

“Nope. She hasn’t said a word. After the funeral, she tried to tell us we didn’t have to stay around at the apartment and could finish paying our respects to Lissa. We told her our job was to watch her. Then I swear to fuck, Prez, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone cry the way she did while trying to hide the fact she was crying.”

Fuck me.

“Don’t leave her apartment,” I order. “Me or someone else will be there soon to talk to her and find out why she thinks she doesn’t need a sitter.”

“Wasn’t gonna leave, Prez,” Colt states and hangs up.

Pulling the phone from my ear, I toss the damn thing on the table, where it lands with a clatter.

“What’s going on?” Malice asks, cocking a brow.

“Seems we’ve got to talk to Bruiser, find out where his head’s at and then go discuss a few things with Gwyneth,” I tell him, turning my attention to where Bruiser’s got an arm slung around one of the slobber crawlers. A shot glass in his hands.

He’s yet to fuck up, but if he keeps at it, he’ll regret fuckin’ up something that could be damn good for him.

“What’s going on with Gwyneth?” Malice straightens, and I tell him what Colt reported to me. “Bet you she’s blaming herself.” He nods and grimaces. “I saw her at the funeral, saw the agonizing sorrow in her eyes. There was no missing it.”

“Yeah, I saw her there and couldn’t agree more,” I mutter and get to my feet. This isn’t exactly what I want to be doing, but I’m looking out for my brother and what’s best for him. A brilliant idea comes to mind, and I know exactly how to handle this situation.

I snag my phone, shove it in my front pocket, and look at Malice. “We’re going to bait the hook to get Bruiser to get his head back on straight,” I tell him, grinning.

“Oh shit.” Malice snorts. “This will be interesting. He’s already shit-faced. Someone’s gonna have to drive his ass over there.”

“Yep.” One of the prospects can drive him and stick around to sit on lookout for him ‘cause I know my brother will be more than a little busy working his shit out with the woman meant for him. “We’ll tell Dagger afterward he’s back on duty come tomorrow. Give Bruiser a bit of time with her alone.”

“This could go sideways,” Malice notes.

“Yeah, if it does, then at least we tried to help our brother.” With that said, I cross the main room toward Bruiser. “You good?” I ask him as he shoots yet another shot.

“Yep,” he grumbles, and the slobber crawler tucks herself closer to Bruiser’s side. I don’t remember her name, only thing I know is she’s a newer chick who’s only been around for a couple weeks.

Looking directly at the woman, I jerk my head slightly. “Get lost.”

“But . . .”

“Don’t even,” I snap, not about to let her even try and argue with me.

“Go, sweet cheeks, I’ll find you later,” Bruiser says, slurring his words as he releases her.

“Okay,” she says, lifting to brush a kiss to Bruiser’s lips before walking off, shaking her ass a little more than needed.

“Whatcha need, Prez?”

“You’re fuckin’ up, brother.” I get right to it.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugs and pours yet another shot.

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