Page 7 of Splintered Security
She flinches, and that’s all it takes. I pick her up in a bridal carry and walk to the living room, ignoring both her squeak of protest and the ripping pain in my upper back. It’s not that she’s big. It’s that my body is operating solely on adrenaline for the second time tonight, and that’s seeping rapidly from my system.
I sit on the sofa and fight the urge to groan when my back touches the leather. Of all the days—or rather, nights—to finally have her in my arms, and it’s one when my body has been decimated by shrapnel and debris.
“What happened?” I soften my voice and cradle her to me. “Talk to me.”
She releases a reluctant sigh and begins.
4
whatever
Anni
How do you admit when your past comes back not to haunt you, but to fuck you? I guess just like that.
“The MC is at it again.” His frame goes stiff. He’s on high alert. So much so, it looks painful. I knew this would happen. The Lost Mountain Rebels have taken and taken and taken. And there’s no end in sight. “Heath decided he hasn’t stolen enough from me and wants more. This time to punish me personally. Or for me to pay personally.”
If I thought Ren was stiff before, that was nothing on now. His chest vibrates with his growl. “What the fuck?”
I tuck my temple to his chest, knowing that avoiding looking him in the eye will make this a little easier. “August had more debts. At least that’s what Heath claims. And since he’s not around to pay them, it’s my responsibility.”
When his jaw clenches so tightly, the sound of his molars grinding fills my ears, I set a hand on his chest. “Stop. Or slow down at least. Your teeth will be dust by the end of this if you keep that up. I mean, you know Pueblo.”
Of course he knows Pueblo. It’s where we grew up. We rode bikes through town, hiked anywhere our boots could take us, and swam each summer in any body of water we could find. I useweloosely because mostly Ren and August were together. I tagged along or tagged behind when and where I could. Neither of them wanted some pesky little sister slowing them down or stopping their fun, and both hated a tattletale.
I must get lost in my thoughts, because I get a little squeeze.
“Heath throws around his power in Pueblo.”
“He has no power,” Ren argues.
“There he does.”
“No. There he has threats and little-dicked friends who do his bidding.”
“Well, those little-dicked friends are bullies. And they’ve never left the high school mentality—they’ve just included money and drugs. And control. The local turf wars are mediated by Heath and the Lost Mountain Rebels. Gangs get their territories and boundary lines by how well they pay to play.”
“So nothing’s changed since I left forever long ago.”
Thirteen years, I don’t say. I was fifteen. He was eighteen, just like August. He got free from the bullshit, but August never did.
“In my life?” My voice drops to a whisper. “Nearly everything has changed.”
His body sags. It’s the only thing I’m willing to recognize right now, since I’m still too fearful to look at him. We rarely speak of August. Hell, we’ve rarely spoken in the decade since it happened, but when we have, it’s never about August.
My brother joined the MC about the same time Ren enlisted in the Army. He left for boot camp and did a tour in Pakistan before moving to Denver for whatever brought him here. Their lives couldn’t have been more different.
“I miss him.” His admission stuns me.
“Me too, Ren.” It’s a peace offering, but it’s the truth.
Neither of us can change the past, despite how much we would if we could.
“So, anyway, Heath figures that slowly slicing the Garvers to shreds will give him pleasure, so he’s after me. Well,aftermight be the wrong word. That implies a chase. I’m in his snare and I need out. For good.”
“Whatever you need. Whatever fucks him over. Whatever brings some justice for what he did to Aug, I’m in.”
“You sure about thatwhatever?”
