Page 37 of Five Brothers

Their short-sleeved button-ups are pressed, and I can smell the leather scent all rich men pick up somewhere in their day. Their briefcases. Shoes. BMW seats.

The dark blond one doesn’t look at me, but I know him. I squeeze Paisleigh’s hand.

“Ouch,” she whines.

They take a seat at a small table next to the windows, and I pull her behind me, over to the Jaegers. “Is one of my cars ready yet?” I ask Army.

“I don’t know. I—”

“Probably,” Iron interrupts, starting to rise. “Here, I’ll walk over with you. Macon needs dinner anyway.”

“It’s fine. I can do it myself.”

I don’t want to get into it with him again. He stranded me over here with my little sister today. I mean, I could’ve gotten a ride somewhere, I’m sure, but he doesn’t think, and it’s not cute.

He stares at me. “I’ll take you.”

“You’ve been enough help,” I snap.

Trace scarfs down his food, Dallas standing next to the window, eating a sandwich and never really relaxing. Army is nearly finished. On workdays, they skip lunch, and my stomach growls as I realize I did today, too.

I reach over and grab the food off the counter that I’m taking to go for Mars, Paisleigh, and me, but I stop and lean in a little,speaking low as I look at Army. “The two guys by the window,” I tell him. “One is from the health department. The other is Garrett Ames.”

His eyes flash to the table mid-chew, the last bite of his burger pinched between his fingers. He swallows. “How do you know the first one is from the health department?”

“He goes to my church.”

“You go to church?” Dallas asks.

Trace snorts, and I hold back my eye roll. They literally sent their sister to the same Catholic school.

I lock eyes with Army again. “Garrett Ames doesn’t come to places like this, is my point,” I whisper. “Just letting you know.”

I’m not sure what they can do to find out why he’s here, and with a health inspector, but it’s not for the food. Whatever magic the Jaegers weave, arms they twist, or people they bribe to hold on to everything they have here, they better get on it.

I see Iron staring at the men, his shoulders squared and his jaw flexed.

“Walk me,” I tell him, changing my mind.

He doesn’t seem to hear me, and I can only imagine what he’s planning.

“Walk me,” I growl.

He needs to get out of here before he tacks on another five years to his sentence. Jesus.

Pushing away from the table, he grabs his phone and takes the brown bag stapled shut on top of the counter. We leave, Iron holding open the door for my sister and me.

“You coming back tomorrow?” he asks, his stride slowing to match mine, because mine matches Paisleigh’s short one.

“Why?”

I’m not sure if I’m asking why I should take the job, or why he seems to want me to, but he just stares at the ground, and I’m taken aback by the smile that he’s almost hiding.

“I shouldn’t have said that shit this morning,” he tells me, “but you were fun, kid. I’d rather wake up tomorrow and see you around than not.”

I was fun? What does he mean?

The Jaegers’ garage door is open, light pouring out as Macon leans under the hood of a car, his arm completely buried somewhere in all the parts. Both of my cars sit outside.

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