Page 28 of Five Brothers

I grind my fingers into my palms.

But before I can ponder what he said for too long, I hear his low voice turn to a bite. “Oh, what the hell?”

I look up, seeing what he sees.

Milo Price walks out of the small motel next to the bar down the road.

A burn swirls in my stomach. A feeling I know well and one that I love.

He’s dressed only in jeans as he leans against a column and lights a cigarette.

The motel’s got six units, which are almost always empty, except for an hour here or there when guys like him pay to slum.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Army strolls up, tossing his tool belt into the truck.

I take a step but stop, a white nineties Mercedes-Benz convertible cruising past right in front of me. Music blasts, and Krisjen heads straight for Mariette’s, sliding perfectly into a spot right up front.

“What is she doing back?” Dallas asks.

I glance at her ex, still standing in front of the motel, and I can tell the moment he sees her. I dart my gaze back to her, but she doesn’t see him.

Dallas and Trace climb out of the bed, and I slam the door closed, all of us stepping toward the road. Krisjen climbs out of the car a hundred yards down the street, takes a kid out of the back seat, and holds their hand as she goes into the restaurant. Milo watches her, and I wait till she’s gone before I charge over to him. He isn’t welcome here, and it has very little to do with her. He’s got to be another level of stupid to think he can show his face after what he did.

With my brothers on my heels, I head straight for the son of a bitch.

He sees me coming and straightens up. “Easy, man.” A fucking smile dances across his lips. “I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Iron …” Army tries to calm me.

But I don’t listen. “You’re not welcome here,” I bite out.

Milo sucks on his cigarette, the scar my sister’s girlfriend left down the side of his face last spring still red and fresh. I’m surprised he forgot the warning to stay away with it staring him in the mirror every day.

“I paid,” he assures us.

Camilla Gonzalez steps out of the room behind him, fixing the cups of her tank top. She stops, seeing us.

“Get inside,” I growl.

Goddamn her.

She steals back into the room, and I take a step into Milo. “Stay away from our women.”

“When you have plenty of fun with ours?” He casts a look toward Mariette’s and the Mercedes parked in front of it, indicating Krisjen. He snickers. “You all want them because they’re young, tight, and clean between the legs. They giggle and wear pink, but damn, they feel good, don’t they? Your sister knew it. She loves Saint pussy, too.”

I jolt, a hand gripping my arm from behind to stop me.

“And they get wet around any cock wearing a tool belt.” Milo shakes with laughter. “But, Iron, they don’t stay. Our women need money to look that good.”

“Clay doesn’t need money from Liv,” I tell him. “And if you were any fucking good in bed, you would realize they’ll always cross the tracks for the things you can’t give them.”

He takes a drag and blows out smoke, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Did you know there’s a ring of wife swapping in St. Carmen?” he tells us. “My dad has fucked everyone’s wife. I followed my mom to a party one night where she was the belle of the ball.”

I frown.

It’s becoming easier to understand why he’s so fucked up. God, these people are ugly.

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