Hidden Truths (Boots Book 1)

by Erickson, Megan

“Great, now fucking talk, because I think I’m missing huge chunks of information here. Why the fuck did Reb try to kill you?”

  “You gotta understand,” Bryan said, pressing some buttons on his phone, then holding it up to his ear. “That I did this for her. For her and me. So we’d be clear. Everything I’ve ever done is to set us up for a better life.”

  “Well you fucking failed,” I snapped at him.

  His eyes closed, the hurt right there on his face, Bryan’s entire confident facade gone. “I know it.”

  “You did this to her,” I growled. “Your mess. You know that, right?”

  “I know that,” he fired at me.

  “I hope it eats at you.” I wanted to hurt him.

  I didn’t have to bother telling him, because his answer told me he was hurting himself enough. “It does,” he whispered. “Every goddamn day.”

  Then he spoke into the phone, and the name he said had me jerking the steering wheel and nearly running off the road. “Castor, it’s Drayer.”

  “What the fuck?” I whispered.

  Bryan ignored me and spoke intently into the phone, eyes glittering. “Did you break your word and go after my sister?”

  He paused for a while, and then said softly, “What?” His head dropped into his hands. “Reb musta…” His voice trailed off, then his back straightened. “Look there’s shit you gotta know, and man I’ll tell you everything before I cease to exist for you again, but right now, I’m begging you, with everything that I have, to help me.” A second pause, then Bryan spoke in an agonized voice. “Ghost got Tara.” His voice dropped to a rasp as he kept talking. “He ran my truck off the road, pulled my fucking sister out of the passenger seat. She was fucking bleeding, goddamn bleeding and he gave not one shit. He ordered his fucking soldiers to off me and when she fought him, he struck her.” Bryan inhaled sharply before roaring into the phone. “That motherfucker hit my sister, Castor!”

  The poison leached into my brain. The same poison I’d felt when I’d learned Trent died, it was the same but more, all-consuming, all-raging so that my vision went red and my focus narrowed to one thing—seeing Reb fall. I couldn’t think about Tara hurt and confused right now, I couldn’t focus on that. I could only focus on my anger because that was what fueled me.

  Bryan was still talking, his voice cracking, falling apart in the passenger seat as I kept driving, not knowing where I was going, but heading somewhere fucking fast.

  Bryan dropped the phone in his lap, the call ended.

  “I failed her,” I said to the windshield.

  Bryan didn’t say anything.

  “I promised her I’d watch out for her. I walked away, and I didn’t fight for her. I fucking failed.”

  “If this is a competition, think I won in the fail department, man,” Bryan muttered, his gaze on the windshield, fingers rubbing across his lips.

  “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

  Bryan sighed. “Castor.”

  “Yeah fucking Castor. What the fuck, Bryan?”

  “This is so fucked up.”

  “You think?”

  “Your brother was seeing a woman when he died. Did you know that?” He turned in his seat slightly to face me, and I went still at the subject change.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Trent was seeing a woman named Natalie.”

  I remembered he’d mentioned her. It’d been new, but he’d been excited. She’s it, brother, fucking gorgeous. Phenomenal at head. I didn’t share any of that with Bryan. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Natalie is Castor’s niece.”

  I whipped my head to lock eyes with Bryan. “The fuck you say.”

  “Castor’s beloved niece. The daughter of his sister, who died of cancer.”

  “Jesus,” I muttered.

  “And Natalie was in love with Trent Anders. Head over heels. Told her uncle she was going to marry Trent and have his babies.”

  My heart lurched. “Fucking shit.”

  “And then he got killed.”

  I clenched my jaw. “You, you fucking—”

  “Reb killed him.”

  Those three words made my world tilt off its axis. I had the self-preservation to slow the car, pull off to the side of the road, and shift it into park. I didn’t look at Bryan. I kept my hands on the steering wheel. “Keep talking,” I barked.

  “The guy you killed, that you went away for—I was done with him. I’d kicked him out of my crew because he was trouble. But Reb liked the guy. He took his death as a personal offense. Reb couldn’t get to you, so he got to Trent to make you pay. Fucking ridiculous. I was furious at him, especially when Castor came down on our heads.”

  The memories were rushing back assaulting me like punches to the jaw—the fight in the alley, getting arrested, learning Trent was dead…

  Bryan was still talking. “I took the fall. I took it because I’d been looking for a way out anyway. A new life that I could start over, provide for Tara. Just get the fuck out. I knew she was vulnerable, always would be until I left that life. Castor and I had a truce where we agreed we’d never stop the other from breathing. But he would have killed Reb. Hell, he would have taken out most of my soldiers. All those men, dead. Fucking carnage. So I took the fall, let Reb take over and reduce our territory. Then I got the fuck out.”

  I tried to sort out everything in my mind. “Why were we getting word that Castor was looking for Tara?”

  Bryan shook his head. “I don’t know. Reb was probably floating the lie to draw me out, and get Tara to come back to him. Fuck.”

  “What does he want with her?” I asked even though I knew.

  “He wants her.” Bryan’s voice went flat. “Said without me around, he can be the man around her he wanted to be.”

  “Motherfucker.”

  “He won’t give a fuck if she doesn’t eat, if she doesn’t get some sleep.” Bryan turned in his seat and met my eyes head on as he recalled what I’d said to her at the diner. “He won’t give a fuck. Man, straight up, I didn’t trust you. Not one bit. Five minutes after you left, I knew you cared about her, and I knew I’d just fucked up her life. A-fucking-gain.” He rubbed his mouth. “I took care of her since we were kids. Just her and me. Never got out of the habit. Started doing the shit I did so we could have a better life than the one we grew up in. Wanted out of the trailer park, wanted better shit for us.”

  I didn’t have time to ease his guilty conscious, but I had one last thing to say. “She’s a grown woman. A grown woman who loves her brother despite all the shit he put her through. She didn’t need you to take care of her. She just needed her fucking brother.”

  Bryan’s face twisted into a grimace.

  “I’ll be straight up with you. I was in Waterstone because I knew about the safety deposit box. I didn’t know what was in it, I just knew you’d be back for it. I had no idea who Tara was, and I am to her exactly what I say I am. I love her.”

  Even with the swelling in Bryan’s face, I could see the emotion sweeping over his features. “Good. I’m glad.”

  “What is in that safety deposit box, by the way?”

  “Recording. Reb and I. He talks about killing Trent, I agreed to take the fall.”

  “Why’d you make the recording if you trusted him?” I asked.

  Brent was silent for a moment, staring out the windshield. “I don’t know that I’ve ever trusted anyone fully in my whole life.”

  His words were soft, and a little heart-breaking, and I wondered if anyone—even Tara—got to see Bryan Drayer like this. Then I decided I was done with the heart to heart. “We need to get back on the road. Where am I going?”

  Bryan swallowed. “Jersey. Gotta meet with Castor. He’s got men on it now, finding out where Reb is. We’ll find her. I know we’ll fucking find her.”

  I pulled out onto the road, my body numb, my brain still working to process the fact that I spent years imaging Bryan Drayer’s death when he wasn’t the one who took Trent’s life.

&
nbsp; I glanced over at the man, who was becoming a little listless. Fuck, he was drenched in blood, his shirt covered in it, the clotted mess on his head dirty. The sun was just now beginning to rise over the horizon and I remembered that I hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours. The road was blurring in front of me, but we had to keep going. Had to get Tara…

  Bryan’s phone rang, the sound jolting him awake. “Yeah,” he said when he answered it. “I don’t know, bleeding from the head, cracked ribs. Why? Fuck that! No, fuck that! Castor—” He stopped talking and clenched his jaw. “He. Has. My. Sister. And you want me to fucking sleep?” His eyes widened, then his face fell, defeat slumping his shoulders. “Fine. I said fine. Yeah. FYI, Reb killed Trent. I took the fall because I think you know why. Want to punish me for lying to you, you can do it after we get Tara back. I got proof in a safety deposit box, which I’ll get you soon’s I can.” Pause. “Yeah, what I’m saying is you can put Reb in the ground and feel good about it. Yep. Thanks.”

  Bryan ended the call. “He said he’s got an inside man in Reb’s crew. He knows their moves. And he said right now, the best thing we can do is heal, sleep, eat, and rest up before the war.”

  The war. Jesus Christ. I could probably stay up another twenty-four hours to make it to Tara, but I was smart enough to know I was getting close to being no good to anyone. Bryan was still bleeding out all over the damn car. I glanced at the street signs. “I know where we can go. Get some rest and get you cleaned up.”

  Bryan frowned. “You do?”

  “It’s not too far from Jersey. Buckle up.”

  Bryan did, then he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. And I drove through the early morning to Hal’s.

  Hal lived in a cabin in the Poconos on acres of land because he wanted to be alone. By the time the car was rumbling down his stone driveway, Bryan was pale and unconscious. I’d woken him up several times, alarmed at his dilated pupils. He likely had a concussion. He’d lost blood, and his breathing was labored. This would be my life—I’d spent years wishing this man dead and now I was going to have to work to keep him alive. Fuck me.

  I dragged Bryan out of the car, and he sort of moved his legs, but I mostly carried him.

  “Where are we?” he mumbled.

  “We’re with the last person alive that I’ve trusted all my life,” I answered back.

  Bryan fell silent at that. By the time I reached Hal’s door, he’d thrown it open, standing tall in the doorway, gaze leveled on Bryan. Then it jerked to me. “Son.”

  “I’ll explain,” I said, huffing under Bryan’s weight. “I’ll explain everything. But right now, we gotta keep him alive. Whatever we gotta do, we make sure he stays breathing.”

  Hal clenched his jaw, just a tick of the muscles, which was the only sign I was given that he was displeased, before he moved out of the way so I could get Bryan and me inside.

  The door slammed shut behind us, and then we were in Hal’s cozy cabin. I tripped over the edge of his braided rug, and Bryan and I went down onto the plaid couch, me landing on top of him. I scrambled off immediately, relieved to hear Bryan groaning. Groaning meant living.

  Now that I wasn’t driving, and could focus on him, I realized he was in awful shape. His nose was probably broken, his one eye was mostly swollen shut, and he was limping. Seeing him in Hal’s cabin, one of the few places where I had nothing but happy memories, was a kick to the gut. I’d spent a lot of time on this couch, in this room, in this cabin. I’d cooked pancakes in this kitchen. And now Bryan Drayer was here.

  Hal appeared at my side, his brow furrowed. He pulled up a natural wood table and laid out an extensive first aid kit on top of it. “Let’s get him cleaned up first.”

  So that’s what we did. With warm water and a cloth, I wiped the blood off Bryan’s face until I could see the source of the wound—it was a gash on his forehead near his hairline likely where his head hit the window in the wreck. After laying a towel under Bryan to protect the couch, I ran soapy water over the wound, rinsing out the dirt. “Should we stitch it?” I asked Hal.

  “No stitches,” Bryan mumbled without opening his eyes.

  “It’s deep, man.”

  “Just slap a bandage on it, it’ll heal. Chicks dig scars anyway.”

  “Tara’s right. You’re unbelievable,” I muttered.

  That got me something of a grin from his cracked, bleeding lips. “Are we bonding? I think this is bonding.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Drayer.”

  He let out a laugh, which quickly turned into a coughing fit.

  I lathered the cut with antibiotic ointment then applied a butterfly bandage, and lastly covered that with gauze and tape.

  “Can you take your shirt off?” I asked.

  Bryan opened one swollen eye to raise an eyebrow at me. “From bonding to naked time?”

  How did he not get beat up every day of his life? Even now I wanted to take a swing at his smirk. “I liked you better when you were unconscious in my car.”

  Bryan made a face that closely resembled a pout. On a full-grown man. “That’s not very nice. I’m just trying to bond.”

  “Can I check your ribs, asshole?”

  He sighed before he struggled to lift his arms. When his face twisted in pain, I grasped the hem of his shirt and did it myself. So yeah, now I was undressing Bryan Drayer in order to keep him alive. Swear to fuck, Tara was going to laugh her ass off when she heard about this.

  When I tossed his shirt to the side, I felt Hal’s body get tight next to mine. That’s when I took in Bryan’s torso. It was a mass of bruises, already deepening even though they’d been inflicted hours ago. He had ink too, but I wasn’t even looking at that, since his injuries took my full focus. “Jesus Christ, you weren’t wrong. They beat the shit out of you.”

  “My bloody face didn’t indicate that?”

  “Not so pretty anymore, are ya Bryan?”

  “Fuck you,” he muttered.

  “Move, son,” Hal said to me. “I’ll check his ribs.”

  Bryan didn’t miss a thing. His gaze went from Hal’s hand on my shoulder, to me standing up, then back to Hal now sitting on the edge of the couch, scarred hands beginning to coast down Bryan’s side.

  Bryan sucked in a breath and began to breath heavily while Hal prodded his ribs, but he still didn’t take his eyes off the old man. Hal’s dark head—hair shot through with silver—was bent, focused on Bryan’s ribs.

  “Who is he to you?” Bryan asked.

  I lifted my head to see him watching me. “He’s the only family I got left. Not by blood. But he’s family.” I didn’t wait to see or hear Bryan’s response. I went to Hal’s kitchen and opened the dark wood cabinet to retrieve a mason jar. After filling it with water and loading up with some pain reliever, I went back out to the living room to see Hal helping Bryan into a clean shirt—one of his—and Bryan’s ribs were wrapped with a bandage.

  “Nothing’s broken, but he might have some cracked ribs.” Hal stood up.

  I handed Bryan the water and pills. “Take these.”

  “Cyanide?” Bryan said with a smirk before he threw back the pills.

  “If I still planned to kill you, it’d be a whole lot messier than poison.”

  Bryan laughed, but the sound was quickly cut off on a groan. “Oh fuck, no laughing. Goddamn, no laughing.”

  Hal’s hand settled on my shoulder. “Not sure if you plan to stay for a bit, but I’ll tell you right now, I know you, Lance, and you’re dead on your feet. So you two can get some rest, then hit the road.”

  Of course he knew me that well. “That was the plan.”

  Hall nodded. “Good.”

  We got Bryan into the guest bedroom, and he was asleep before I finished stripping him out of his boots. I tossed a blanket over him, then shut the door.

  I stared at the knob for a while, wondering if I should lock it. I trusted Bryan…but then I didn’t.

  “Lance,” Hal called from the living room.

  I sighed
and walked away from the doorknob, leaving it as is. Hal was on his recliner, sipping something hot from a mug. “I’ll stay up and watch.”

  “Thanks.” Fatigue was setting in, I could feel it, even as I wondered how the hell I was going to sleep knowing Tara was with that asshole.

  “Talk to me,” Hal said. “Brief rundown, then you need to crash.”

  So I looked into his clear blue eyes, and I told Hal everything. That’d I’d been prepared to walk away from Tara, changed my mind, and walked into a fucking ambush. And then I shared that Bryan didn’t kill Trent. Reb did.

  At that, Hal’s jaw went tight. He called me “son,” but Trent had meant the world to Hal, so much that his death had marked him almost as hard as it’d marked me.

  “You need rest,” Hal announced when I was done. “Don’t care how you gotta get there, but find a bed and sleep. When you two wake up, I’ll feed you.”

  “I think Bryan has a concussion—”

  “I know, son. I’ll check on him.”

  I swallowed, and met Hal’s eyes. “You were right. I’m not that man. But I’ll say right now, if Reb harms Tara in any way, I will be that man. No hesitation. I will be that man. He will pay in ways I never ever imagined making Bryan pay.”

  Hal’s eyes closed once, slowly, and I knew this was hurting him to hear me say that. Then he opened them and locked eyes with me. “Then get some rest, get some food, and save your woman.” He took a sip from his mug. “I’ll be working, and by that, I think you know that if you need me, I’ll hunt Reb until the ends of the earth.”

  For the first time in a long time, I smiled.

  So did he.

  Then I went to get some sleep.

  Fifteen

  Tara

  I stared out the window, seeing nothing. That was what I’d done ever since I woke up in a strange bed in a strange room in a strange ramshackle cabin in the middle of nowhere. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. I suspected Reb gave me a sedative in addition to knocking me out, because when I woke up, it was dark. I’d gone back to sleep, and now it was morning again. At least, I thought so.

  I hadn’t said a word, because I had nothing to say. When I closed my eyes, I saw my brother’s bloody face. And all the time, nonstop, since I woke with a pounding headache, I heard his agonized voice saying my name.