Page 48 of Thirst Trap (Carter Brothers)

I was diagnosed with OCCABD. Obsessive, compulsive, cursing, angry bitch disorder. There is no cure.

—Shayne to Ande

SHAYNE

I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him in the middle of a gang war.

Really, I shouldn’t have.

I knew he had a dangerous job. I knew that every day, he went to work and tried to fix a problem that was unfixable. I knew that he was in danger every second of every day he was on duty.

Yet, as I dropped the helo into the middle of that park and saw him there, hands on his hips, angry at the world, I was reminded that though I’d left the warzone, he’d only traded his from overseas to American soil.

Years ago, when I’d heard he’d gone into the gang division, I hadn’t been surprised.

The subject had always been pretty close to his heart, first with his dad, then with me.

He had this vendetta against the gangs that would never be assuaged as long as he lived.

“What are you thinking so hard about over there?”

I looked up to find Costas closing the door on a kid—probably a gang member, but I chose not to look too closely or listen too hard—staring at me.

“I’m thinking that you need to stop treating our shared house as a clubhouse and find a new fucking hobby,” I snapped.

Okay, so I hadn’t exactly been thinking that.

Truthfully, though, I was annoyed with his constant gang member presence, I tried really, really hard to be dumb and blind when it came to whatever he was doing.

Costas did take some of my feelings into consideration. He only conducted business when I wasn’t in the house, or was asleep—and the only reason I knew he conducted business when I was asleep was sometimes I’d wake up and hear him talking outside with someone.

“It’s not a hobby.” Costas eyes went dark. “It’s a calling.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re the smartest man I’ve ever met, Costas. Why do you do this?”

This was a constant argument with us. I’d ask him if he was done with the gang thing yet, and he’d tell me no. I’d tell him he was stupid for playing this dangerous game, and one day he’d wind up dead, and he’d tell me he would live forever.

The only thing that we seemed to agree on when it came to whatever stupid gang business he had was that he should keep it as far away from me as possible. And, so far, he’d managed to do that.

But the activity had started to pick up at our place.

“When are you moving back home?” I asked curiously.

When are you going to let me live here by myself since you have a paid for loft in downtown Dallas?

Costas crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Costas, I’ve lived by myself for a really long time. I’m not really hip on living with my brother for the rest of my life.”

His lips twitched.

I loved my brother unconditionally.

I loved him so much that I wasn’t willing to give him up for the man I loved.

If life was fair, I wouldn’t have to choose.

Quinn Carter was the love of my life. But Costas Rodriguez was my shelter in the storm.

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