by Emilia Finn
He clears his throat. “Brenten, actually. And yeah, top prosecutor in my office. And you?”
“The most prosecuted in my building. I’m certain I’ve met a million of you in my life.”
He smiles, toothy and arrogant. “I was just thinking the same thing. You and Liv…” He glances back to her for a beat. “You—”
She sits forward and wraps her arms around his. “No. Ben was teasing. William and I have met a handful of times,” her icy eyes come to me, “but we’re nothing more.”
“Oh.” Set at ease, Brenten sits back and rests his hand high on Liv’s thigh, and my eyes zoom to the movement in the same moment Ben’s do. “Are you away, William? I hear traffic.”
“Away for work,” I grit out when his hand squeezes. I have no claim on the beautiful woman. Not really, but that doesn’t mean my hands don’t itch to tear his arm from his body. To eject him from that fucking house and boot him into a filthy river. “I’ll be home soon. Maybe we could meet up sometime, have a beer…” Introduce your brain to a brick wall.
“I’m certain we’ll meet each other,” he replies with an arrogant sneer. “I am the best prosecutor in town, after all.”
Olivia’s eyes widen. He doesn’t see, but I sure as fuck do.
She grits her teeth and loosens her hold on Brenten’s arm. I could go out on a limb and claim it’s because she feels bad for me, or because she’d be on my side should he and I ever meet. But in reality, I suspect my sister is doing something rage-y with her face where I can’t see it. I raised her, I nurtured her, I taught her how to be a savage. If that motherfucker wants to start throwing his dick around, then I won’t need to step up. I won’t have time, because my sister will tear his throat out long before I even get a chance to stand.
“Yeah, that’s enough of that.” Olivia looks over the top of the phone and confirms my thoughts. “I think that might conclude this evening. William.” She looks into my eyes. “It’s good to see you’re safe and well. It’s always a relief to see you when you call; I mean, it’s the only communication we get with you, right?”
I tip my chin and study her slender neck. “And you, Olivia. I’ll see you next week.”
“Next week?” Brenten’s eyes dart between the phone and his girlfriend. “You’ll be in town next week?”
“No, he’ll call again next week.” Evie passes back through my view and grins as she goes. “It’s game night, and we like to include her brother.”
“Your brother?” His eyes go over the phone again. “He’s your brother?”
“He sure is.” I hear the smile in her voice, then I get to see it when she flicks the camera back and gifts me with her grin. “Come home soon.”
“Take me off speaker for a sec?”
“Sure. Say goodbye to everyone.”
“Yeah. Bye, everyone.” I kill the video portion of my call, and instead bring the phone to my ear. “Who is that motherfucker?”
“None of your business,” she murmurs. “Leave it alone.”
“He’s grabbing her in front of Ben! Not even I did that.”
“You didn’t do anything,” she exclaims. “Because… you know!” She grunts out her frustration at having to speak in vague terms. Of course everyone knows who she’s talking about, but that doesn’t mean we make it too easy on them. “Leave it alone, Will.”
“Bubbles…”
“Or come home and do something about it,” she teases. “That option would also work for me.”
“You’re trying to get me arrested.”
She snickers, then grunts, like she’s climbing off the couch. “Whatever works. Do you have a date yet?”
I put my feet back on the table and frown. “A date for what?”
“For when you’re coming home, dummy. When can I expect you on my doorstep? I’ll probably even cook for you.”
“Baked beans on toast?”
“Don’t act fancy!” she laughs. “What, you think you’re ballin’ now that you have one less mouth to feed?”
“Oh please. You’re the socialite sitting up in that Kincaid estate, drinking hot chocolate and accepting ass kisses from all the rich folks.”
“And now you sound petty.” She sighs. “Come home, Will. Even if it’s just for a visit. I need to see you for real.”
“Soon. I promise, Bubbles. Soon.”
“What are you doing?” Her whimsical sighs are replaced with anger. “Whatever it is, it’s clearly illegal. Because if it wasn’t, you’d tell me where you are.”
“It’s not… I’m not…” I drag a hand over my head and groan. “I can’t tell you. I would if I could. You know that, right?”
“Is it legal?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Is it safe?”
“Bubbles! I can’t tell you.”
“Is it in the same fucking country I’m in?”
I don’t bother saying it again.
I can’t tell her. I can’t say a single damn thing, and we have this argument every single time we speak.
Glancing up at the movement in my peripherals, I nod at my summons, then turn back to the view laid out in front of me. “I have to go, Bubbles. But I’ll probably text you tomorrow.”
“Probably?” she whips back. “I didn’t realize your love was probably.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groan. “Drama. I love you, Bubbles, and you damn well know it, so don’t sit over there and go through your manipulative, teen angst phase now.” I stand from my chair and grab my beer as I move. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be at the studio most of the day,” she murmurs. “Soph’s working us triple time to get ready for the show.”
“Yeah, well, she always was a hardass who pushed her dancers, wasn’t she?” I step back inside my apartment and set my beer on the corner of the coffee table. A silver gun sits atop a pile of magazines – the reading kind – and beside that, the remnants of a pack of cookies I tore through last night. “You asked for this, Bubbles. I seem to even recall a comment where you actively hoped she’d be an ass who worked you hard. Something about not wanting things to be too easy for you.”
“I told you so is an unattractive thing to say, William.”
I snort, then nod when my companion lifts an impatient brow. “I seriously have to go. Love you, baby sister. Catch you tomorrow.”
“Love you too,” she pouts. “Whatever it is you’re doing, be safe. You owe me one healthy, intact, emotionally undamaged brother. We had a deal.”
“Doing my best.” I stop by the doorway, and slowly shrug into my coat. “Sleep well.”
“You too.”
As soon as the call disconnects, I slide my phone into my pocket and glance up to a man who goes by the name Echo. The name his mother gave him trends toward something much less cool, but no one ever uses that name. “Why are you here?”
He lifts his chin and turns back through my door. “It’s almost time to finish up, pup.” He stops in the hall and waits for me to follow him out. “You’ve gotta work for it until the end. No shortcuts.”
“Boss said I wasn’t working tonight.”
Echo turns back and grins as I follow him into the hall. “Boss lied.”
Will
Homecoming
Eleven months, twenty-seven days, and twenty-ish hours after I left my sister on her boyfriend’s doorstep and instead took a phone call that would once again alter the path my life would take, I drive back into town in a semi-beat-up Ford Ranger. With my hat pulled low to combat the glare from the descending sun, I sit back and open my legs wide as I cross over the train tracks that somehow, despite having spent a mere two weeks here my whole life, feels like coming home.
There’s no reason for this two-bit town to feel nostalgic for me, except perhaps for the sole reason this is where my sister is. She’s my home, she’s my reason, she’s been my only purpose since I was six years old and found out my mom was pregnant, so I lounge back against the bench seat, and cruise right to
the center of town, just as I was instructed to do.
I have a new purpose now, a new mission, something that leaves my sister far and away from the bad shit, but for tonight, I’m merely big brother, coming home to his baby sister.
Echo, and the rest of the crew back where I came from, weren’t happy about me leaving town quite so soon; they claim my contract doesn’t end until midnight tomorrow night. But I have two middle fingers and zero fucks to give about their twenty-four more hours of bullshit.
I have a recital to attend, a sister to hug, and an almost-brother-in-law to check in on, so I pull into the parking lot at the back of the building named for a special dancer, cut the engine, and snag my keys, then I slide out of the truck and stride across rough gravel and dirt until I round the building and make my way through the glass front doors.
This place is a dance school. A studio, with rooms full of mirrors, and dance floors that are slippery as hell. But this building also boasts an auditorium, spectator seats, stage lights; everything that my sister ever dreamed of.
I already have tickets to tonight’s show – thank you, Sophia Solomon – so I bypass the ticketing station and instead head straight for the auditorium to find my seat.
“Oh my shit! Will?”
I spin at a woman’s voice, and smile when my gaze locks onto a pair of muddy brown eyes atop a fighter’s body.
“Will!” Her grin grows, and then she’s striding through crowds and steamrolling in my direction.
“Mrs. Kincaid.” I accept her hug when she gives me no other choice, and close my eyes for just a single second when Isabelle Kincaid squeezes me tight and holds on.
Isabelle is Jamie Kincaid’s mom, and seeing as Jamie Kincaid is set on marrying my sister, I guess that makes Isabelle family.
When she’s finished hugging and takes a step back, I keep a hold of her hands and take stock of the woman in front of me. “You look beautiful.”
She snorts. “You look bigger.” She’s a full foot shorter than me, but she still manages to look me up and down from top to toe. “You found a new gym where you’ve been, huh? Geez, Will. My son is going to shit when he sees you.”
“He still a scrawny asshole who can’t keep his hands and eyes to himself?”
She releases my hands and drops her weight back onto her right foot. “That’s my boy. He makes his mommy so proud. Except the scrawny bit. He’s been eating his protein now that his shoulder is better.”
“And Quinn’s shoulder?” I ask. “How was her surgery?”
Iz’s brows narrow just a little. “You haven’t asked? That was ages ago.”
“No, I asked.” I chuckle. “But now I’m asking someone else, since everyone knows Bubbles is the ultimate martyr and would never tell me if it’s bothering her.”
Iz smiles and acknowledges my words with a gentle nod. “She’s fine. Surgery went well, recovery was fast and easy, but that might’ve had something to do with both of my children being up in her space around the clock. My daughter nursed her, my son force fed her and made her rest.”
“And now?”
“Now, apart from a cool new scar, she seems to be good as new. Her physical therapist reports that everything is fine, and Soph has her dancing tonight, which is a good sign. Soph would never make her dance if she was still sore, so the fact she is, is another tick to say Quinn’s doing better.”
“Good.” I relax back, like hearing what my sister has been telling me for months from someone else has finally set me at ease. “I’m glad.”
“You worry too much.” Iz reaches up and pats my shoulder. “Now tell me about you.”
I bark out a laugh and step to the side when more folks stream through the door and go in search of their seats.
“Where have you been?” she prompts. “What have you been doing? With whom have you been doing it? Whose mother do I have to beat up?”
“Nowhere,” I laugh. “Nothing. No one. And don’t beat anyone up on my behalf. Come on.” I loop my arm around hers, and start moving out of the way of the growing crowd. “How’s Jamie been?”
She smiles. “He’s finally happy, Will. He finally found his girl, he seems to have convinced her to stay, and she looks fairly inclined to make him happy in return.” She looks up into my eyes and studies me for a moment. “As a parent, all we truly want is for our children to be okay, healthy, content. Your sister isn’t your child. But we both know you raised her from the day she was born, so I know you understand me when I say we just want them to be happy.”
I nod and slow as we approach a group of Kincaids.
They’re easy to spot, easy to recognize, even after a year of separation. But before we get to them, Iz stops us, and reaches up to pat my shirt collar down. “My son is happy, Will. And it’s because of the woman you raised.” Then she steps up onto her toes and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you for doing such an amazing job.”
“You’re getting all emotional on me, Mrs. Kincaid.”
She steps back to flat feet and snickers. “It’s been a year; I’ve missed you. I’m allowed to be emotional.”
“Will!” The first to break away from the pack just has to be Jamie fucking Kincaid.
I somehow found myself a brother, a guy I genuinely love and care about. But at the same time, I hate his fucking guts.
“Holy shit,” he hoots. “I was hoping the rumors weren’t a lie.” As soon as his mother steps aside, Jamie moves in and pulls me into a rough hug. “Jesus, man. You got bigger.”
“Why is everyone so obsessed with my body?” I step out of our hug, and look the guy up and down. “You look good.”
“I feel good. And the fact you grew is a good sign. Means you haven’t gone hungry, and you’ve had time to work out properly.” He grins and steps back as the rest of his family crowd around us. “I’ve worried about you.”
“I had myself under control.”
I smile when Jamie’s father steps up and shakes my hand. Then accept a hug when Evelyn Kincaid steps forward with a fucking child on her hip. Not a baby, and not even a toddler, but a full grown ten-year-old.
“No way is this the baby that was in your belly a year ago.”
The curly-haired fighter-mom steps back and tickles under her son’s chin. “Will, meet Wes. Can you believe he turns one this month?”
“Ah, nope,” I laugh. “Can’t say I believe you. He’s massive. What the hell do you feed him?”
“The souls of shitty fighters who can’t take instruction from a woman, of course.”
“That’ll do it. Ben here?”
“Yeah.” She adjusts the baby-man on her hip and indicates toward the stage. “He’s backstage with Bean and Mac for a sec, but he’ll be out before the curtains come up. It’s good to see you back, Will.” She grins and studies me; not like how a woman might study a man, but how a fighter studies another fighter. “I didn’t get your forms for the tournament this year.”
I snort. “You checked?”
“Of course. Although, it’s still early, and Stacked Deck is months away, so I’m going to assume the form is on the way, and I won’t have to lay you out for being a wuss. It would be embarrassing to be as big as you are, only to have a chick put you to sleep.”
“Humiliating,” I concede with a twitching smile.
“So you’re gonna fight,” she presses. “You’re back, and you have access to my gym, free and clear. That means you have no excuses.”
“I’ll think about it.”
I turn to find another familiar face to my left. I smile and extend a hand, my body moving on autopilot, but then my brain catches up, and I whip my hand back before he can take it.
“Reid Baker?” Then I shoot my gaze around the room. “Where’s your brother?”
“Stand down.” Evie places her hand on my shoulder and pulls me back to flat feet. Because maybe my fighter instincts are too well honed, and maybe I popped to the balls of my feet without thought, balled my fists without thought, prepared to lay a Baker out witho
ut thought. “Kyle Baker’s still a pussy,” she explains, “but Reid is our friend, so chill out.”
“Friend?” I ignore the heavyweight fighter and scowl in Evie’s direction. “Friend? Did they remove your brain when they removed the baby? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I don’t condone my brother’s bullshit behavior.” Reid grabs my shoulder and pulls me around to face him. “Kyle and I…” He shakes his head. “It’s a shame he’s not who I thought he was when I was a kid. Every little brother worships the oldest, it’s the way it’s supposed to be, the way it’s always gonna be. And because of that hero worship, sometimes we brush off shitty behavior as funny, or daring, or warranted. We justify things and take our family’s side because that’s what we’re told to do.”
“Didn’t grow your own set of balls?” I step closer to the guy whose brother mentioned opening my sister’s legs. To the guy whose brother would have used, abused, and tossed a minor’s body into the trash if no one was around to keep him in check. “Kyle Baker is a fucking poison, Reid. And that shit tends to run in the blood.”
“Not my blood,” he declares solemnly. “I swear. My brother did a lot of shitty things to this family, and for that, I’m sorry. I did shitty things to some members of this family,” he glances to my right, to Evie, then back into my eyes, “and for that, I’m sorry. But I’ve stuck around, and I’ve proven to them that I’m not like Kyle.”
“You live here now?” I look to Iz Kincaid and remember back, then I look to Reid and have to control my urge to slam his face against the back of a seat. “Kyle had compromising photos taken of their daughter, and then he delivered them in a really damaging fucking way. You’re telling me they don’t wanna wring your neck every single day?”
“First few days,” Jimmy Kincaid murmurs. “First few weeks, I wanted to slam him.”
“First few weeks,” Reid inserts with a crooked smile, “you did slam me. I took my beatings. I stepped into the cage, took my licks from every single man in that gym. I took the beatings that were intended for my brother, and at the end of the day, I thanked you for them.” He looks to me. “I’m not Kyle, and I wasn’t okay with that shit he was pulling with your sister.”