Page 3 of Brew
I run a hand over my face, closing the door behind me. “She wasn’t mine.”
He pops a brow. “You’re still a virgin?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I head back to the kitchen as he makes himself at home on the stool on the other side of the counter. “Sad really. I thought your luck was changing.”
“I don’t need luck. I’ve got plenty of pussy throwing themselves at me every day. Somethin’ to do with bein’ a Rebel.”
The NOLA Rebels are a big part of my life. The club I live and breathe. But I also live and breathe my own rules, which is why we started Nomad Brothers Security. We contribute to club coffers, but we own the business. I’ve done some shitty jobs over the years, and we always help the MC out when they need extra security at The Vault; the strip club we own downtown, but it was time to spread our wings.
Personally, I think they could’ve come up with a better name than Nomad Brothers, but whatever. Haze and Logan like it. I’m the middle brother, so I just get to go along with whatever the majority rules.
“Uh, huh, you’re a real Romeo. Frankly, I’m worried about you, so are some of the guys.” He reaches over to feel my forehand. “You burnin’ up?”
I whack his hand away. “If you spent more time worryin’ about your own non-existent love life, you’d not be so interested in mine.”
“What love life?” he scoffs. “You know if you spent more time bein’ a little nicer to chicks, you may find it’ll help instead of barking at them. After all, you attract more bees with honey.”
I shoot him a look. “I don’t bark at them, I’m not a dog, but if they annoy me, then I send them on their way.”
He pauses, then bursts out laughing. “Ifthey annoy you? Bro, you’re annoyed by someone breathing in the same room as you.”
“Why are you here annoyin’ the fuckin’ livin’ shit outta me?” I groan.
He raps on the counter. “Good news. Sawyer got a hit on The Grid.”
I glance up.
The Grid is one of the major trafficking networks that operate out of Louisiana and the South. The same people who trafficked Valencia and left her out in the desert to die. The very same pieces of shit I’m still tracking down all these years later because my vengeance will never be satisfied. I promised her family I’d find every last one and I’d put them in the ground. I may be an asshole, but I keep my promises.
“Show me.”
He holds out a hand to stop me. “Hold your horses, we had an agreement; you won’t go in guns blazin’ until we have all the facts.”
“The facts bein’ let’s not waste time. You know how that irritates me.”
He sighs. “We’ve been doin’ this for so long now… don’t you think it’s time?—”
“For what?” I argue. “To forget about what they did? About what they took? Not just from me, but her family.” I can’t say her name out loud. I turn around, ready to make my coffee, but it’sa ruse. I can’t look at him. This pain inside? It feels like a ticking time bomb. Like at any given moment I’m going to explode. And for those that know me, I keep my cool. I never shout, raise my voice, or act on impulse. Acting like a wildcard will get you killed. So despite what my brother says, everything I do is meticulously planned out. I leave nothing to chance.
Blame my background in the Special Forces. I served as a Green Beret in the army for a decade. Freeing the oppressed is in my blood; unconventional warfare is my middle name. I loved what I did, but I left because of injury, and back then I wanted to settle down. I scoff at the memory now. If I’d stayed, would Valencia have ever been in this mess in the first place…
“Nobody is forgettin’ any of that, but are you gonna spend your life living in the past? Bro, I want what you want, but this rules your life.”
I ignore him. Putting a pod into the machine and heating the milk. “You’re givin’ me a migraine, and it’s not even ten o’clock.”
“Even if we keep runnin’ these assholes down, it’s like whack a fuckin’ mole. When one branch closes, another one opens.”
“So what, we stop?” I bark. “If you want out, dickface, just say the words, I’m not stoppin’ you.”
I hear him sigh; I know he means well, but he doesn’t know what it’s like. The love of his life is still walking the earth. She may be a cop called Willow who hates him, but she’s still breathing. “I don’t want out, I just…”
“Spit it out, for Christ’s sake,” I mutter.
“You have no life.”
My brother is too much of a pussy to drink the coffee that’ll put hairs on his chest, so I don’t even ask him if he wants anything. This isn’t a fucking cafe.
