Page 4 of Brew
“Wow, don’t even sugarcoat it.”
“Not here to kiss your ass, bro, just here as a truth teller.”
I turn back to face him. “What did Sawyer find?”
Sawyer, my MC brother Pipe’s older brother, came to work for us not so long ago. And he’s the best at what he does; sneaking around unnoticed and hacking into shit.
“A possible location for a new branch.”
It’s like music to my ears. By day I enjoy the security field; surveillance, alarms and CCTV mainly, but we’re moving into personal protection and patrols. The business has expanded fast, and while Logan sticks to running his bar, we’re always trying to rope him into joining the Rebels. He’s stubborn, and while he has nothing against the Rebels, he’s a lot like me.
Broody. Check.
Grumpy. Check.
No complications. Double check.
I don’t see an issue. Haze has always been the brother with the big mouth. I prefer to let my fists do the talking. It’s quicker that way.
“Where?”
“Between Texas and Oklahoma.”
“They’re stayin’ away from Louisiana.”
“Too many of us on the ground,” Haze sniffs. He hates these organizations just as much as I do. “With Big Papa on board, nobody in the underworld would be stupid enough to try it around these parts.”
I take another sip, the coffee adrenaline kicking in as my mind ticks. Big Papa took over the underworld in New Orleans when we got rid of all the scum a few years back. He controls everything now, but the MC are allies. Underground fighting is one of his biggest earners, and keeping drugs, underage prostitution and guns off the streets. He also hates pedos and traffickers as much as we do. So if shit was gonna go down in our city, he would know about it. This, however, is out of his jurisdiction.
“When do we head out?”
He frowns. “You don’t even wanna hear about what I know?”
I shrug. “Why would it matter?”
“You’re reckless.” He points at me. “This is why I worry because the lines are blurrin’. Gotta fuckin’ move on from this shit.”
“I’ll move on when they’re all dead, that was the deal,” I bark.
“When you’ve punished yourself enough?” He cocks a brow.
My throat dries up. “I wouldn’t judge if I were you. You’re soundin’ like a broken record when it comes to excuses about Willow. How is the divorce goin’?”
He clears his throat. My brother doesn’t like it when the spotlight is turned on him. “Don’t believe in divorces.”
“Does she know that?”
He flips me the bird. “She’ll come to her senses.”
“Clubbin’ women over the head and draggin’ them off into a cave is frowned up now.” I deadpan.
“I take it back, you’re just as grumpy on a Sunday. Here I was thinkin’ a day off would have you in a much better mood, but I think you’re gettin’ worse with age.”
“Shut up and tell me what else you know.”
“Like I said, Sawyer’s workin’ on it, but I’m sure you’ll be wantin’ to take a road trip.”
“Got that right.” I half smile. Cracking skulls is one of the things that brings out a short-lived slice of happiness; when people deserve it, of course. Most of the miscreants I run into in this job calls for violence, and I’m just the man to do it.
