Page 23 of A Brother's Secret

9

Amalia…

I sat up on one of the rusting car hulks and kept my mind and body ready for either of these two assclowns to pull something, but they didn’t. They just stood chatting amicably a few feet away. I was tired, I was irritated, and I really didn’t like Kyle’s new friends. A short time after they’d shut me out, President Junior came outside.

“Yo, Dray, what’s the verdict?” the one named Rev called out. He was short and stocky with arms like a slab of beef and fists that looked like they had crashed more than a few motherfucker’s parties.

“Fucked if I know! I’m going home. They’ll sort it out eventually,” Dray said and sat astride his bike. He pulled on a helmet and stared across the short expanse of dirt and gravel lot in my direction. I raised an eyebrow and met his smoldering gaze, giving no quarter. He smirked and shook his head and I scowled.

“Something funny?” I demanded.

“I’ll see you boys, later,” he called, not even looking in my direction anymore, ignoring me, and I hated that. It harkened back to how life was for me growing up around this shit town until I metKyle.

“You got a chip on your shoulder something fierce, ain’t you, baby?” Reaver asked and I turned my tempestuous gaze onhim.

“The fuck did you call me?” I demanded, putting on a braver front than I actually felt. He’d taken my father’s gun from me like it’d been easy. He grinned at me, eyes gone feral and cold. I swallowed hard, which only made his grin grow into something almost rictus. He looked crazy, and you didn’t fuck with crazy.

“Reaver, knock it off!” Rev said, scowling and Reaver shook like a dog coming out of abath.

“I can’t help it,” he whined, “It’s been a while, and Doll isn’t scared of me anymore, not like she used tobe.”

Rev shook his head and looked at his dusty, red Chuck Taylor high tops. He glanced up at Reaver and said, “Sounds to me like you need to up your game then, buddy.”

Reaver stuck out his bottom lip in a pout and sighed. I blinked and looked from one to the other.

“Did this seriously just turn into relationship counseling for the resident psychopath?” I demanded.

Reaver frowned at me, “I’m not a complete psycho, I mean, not anymore. I just have some sociopathic tendencies.” He almost sounded defensive, which given the actual words coming out of his mouth was utterly fucking ridiculous.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back, scoffing, “What are they even talking about?” I demanded of no one in particular. Seriously, I just wanted to get out of this stupid-assed episode of Dr. Phil.

“That ain’t for us to know,” Rev said, but not rudely. He twisted back and forth, raising first one knee then the other in the opposite direction that he twisted his upper body, in an effort to pop his lower back. I took the time to study what I could see of his ink as he twisted into the light from the building’s exterior but it was no good. Just quick glimpses, flashes with no detail. He had on a sleeveless tee, so his arms were bared, so I still tried to decipher what was there, but it was hard to tell in the dark what he had going on. The only thing I could tell was that one arm was fiery and the other was in cool gray scale. I didn’t ask for a closer look. I wasn’t that bored, but I was getting pretty anxious.

I was worried what they were doing to Kyle, who had obviously piqued their ire over me, and my old friend guilt settled over my shoulders like a scratchy stole. I couldn’t tell you how many times Kyle’d been busted for one of my dumb ideas. How many restrictions, how many times he’d taken the heat for me with his parents just to spare me the beating from my dad when we were growing up. Seventeen years apart and that apparently hadn’t changed either.

I was frustrated, growing agitated by the minute, the heel of my Doc tapping out an irritated staccato on the cracked black vinyl bumper that I rested my feet on. The nervous energy mounting until I thrust my legs up beneath me and leaped lightly down from the car. Reaver jerked slightly, going on guard, and I shook my head. I knew when I was outmatched and between Reaver’s speed and Rev’s obvious strength… well, I had no interest in becoming hamburger tonight.

I paced with nervous energy. I couldn’t hold still even if I wanted to. I felt caged and I hated that feeling, but at the same time, I’d probably hate being dead more, now that Kyle was back in the picture. Another wave of guilt crashed over me, raising gooseflesh along my skin and bile in the back of my throat. I was turning into a nervous wreck but, other than the angry stalking back and forth over the dirt and gravel drive, I wasn’t about to show any other signs of agitation or weakness.

It seemed like an iron age dragged on before the door opened, interrupting the eerie blue light from the fluorescent fixture above it with a swath of golden electric from inside. The big man, Trigger, stood in the doorway and called out, “Hey Reave, Rev, come on in here. Dragon wants to talk to her alone.”

“Okay, Queenie; up against the car. I gotta frisk you,” Rev said and he didn’t exactly look happy about it, to which I could attribute him a few brownie points.

“Why?” I demanded, suspicious.

“Because ain’t no way we’re letting our revered leader out here with you alone until we know you aren’t packing more than your daddy’s pistol,” Reaver said and gave me a grin. He tilted his head just so, and I didn’t know what disturbed me more: The maniacal look he was giving me or the fact that he knew just how the light would fall to give it its full effect. Dude had being scary down to a science. He said, “If you don’t want Rev to do it, I could,” and I grinnedback.

“Fuck you,” I said and his smile softened, a little boy dimple appearing on one side of his mouth, the side lit by the shop light on the outside of the building.

“I didn’t think so,” he said, and Rev stepped up and pointed at the ground twirling his thick finger in a bid for me to turn around and assume the position.

I did as I was told and sniffed like I was bored saying, “You get handsy and we’ll put my speed against your brawn. I’ll emasculateyou.”

“My wife likes my dick right where it is, Queenie and I like my ol’ lady right where she is, which is in my life. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.”

It was food for thought. I just didn’t know how to digest what he was saying just yet. The vibe was still a cautionary one, but these guys had backed way off. We were almost circling in this battle of wits and it was interesting. My sixth sense about people, developed over seventeen years of living a life on the run, was telling me I could be a little more optimistic about the situation but I wasn’t about to run with that. I always remained cautious far longer than was warranted. It was a good thing, too; it had saved my ass more than a couple of times.

Rev kicked my feet apart gently and I leaned my hands against the front end of one of the old cars. He whisked his hands over me quickly and efficiently, earning a few extra brownie points when he apologized about getting near sensitive areas but didn’t skimp on the search. He took my pocket knife, and that left me feeling fairly dejected. I was completely out of weapons at that point except for my wits and whatever around here was handy.

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