Brax

by Jayne Blue

  Tate’s comment was harmless, but still, the hairs on my neck stood on end and I had to fight the urge to curl my fists. What the fuck? We were talking about a girl I hadn’t seen for fifteen years, had no claim on except for one wild night when we were eighteen, and yet I wanted to knock the filth straight out of Tate’s mouth.

  I think he saw something flash in my eyes because he cleared his throat and made some excuse to get the hell out of there. “Yeah,” he said. “Just lemme know if you need any help with that. I’ll catch up with you tonight after I swing by the gym.”

  Nodding, I raised my hand in a wave as he stepped around the table and headed out of the room. Yeah. What could it hurt to make a few phone calls on Nicole’s behalf? I pulled the phone out of my back pocket and dialed Rick Malloy’s number. Rick ran The Shires, a seedy bar on the east side of town. Rick knew pretty much everything about everyone in this town. Though none of the names on Nicole’s list meant anything to me, they might to Rick. He answered on the second ring and agreed to meet me an hour later.

  By the time I got to The Shires, I had three missed calls on my phone. Nicole’s number popped up. I felt like shit for not answering, but until I had a bead on who or what her brother might be mixed up in, I didn’t want to let her down.

  At not even noon, Rick’s bar wasn’t open to the public yet. That didn’t stop a few drunks from congregating near his dumpster. I pulled a couple of twenties out of my back pocket and gave them to the guys, telling them to beat it. Yeah, I know I’m a sucker for doing it. Chances are they were going to drink or shoot up with what I’d given them. But I’ve been down on my luck plenty. Sometimes it just takes one good day to turn shit around. Plus, it got them the hell away from The Shires. If Rick told me shit I didn’t want to hear, at least they wouldn’t be around to repeat it or even know that I’d come asking.

  Rick stood behind the bar with a dingy towel over his left shoulder. I waved my hand to decline the shot of bourbon he offered me. It wasn’t even noon yet, after all. I slid a hundred-dollar bill and Doug Ridley’s picture across the bar to him. No point in not getting right to it.

  “You seen this kid hanging around?”

  Rick pulled his reading glasses out of his pocket and palmed the C-note. “Shit. He looks like about a hundred different douchebags, Brax. What’s so special about this one?”

  Dammit. Ricky knew better than to ask. The thing was, I had kind of a soft spot for the guy. Back in our shakedown days, he’d earned the wrath of our former prez more times than he deserved. And when shit went down and Colt took over, Rick got caught in the crossfire a little. But he kept his mouth shut and his head down and for that alone, I owed him.

  “He’s just important to someone who asked me a favor. Do you recognize him or not?”

  Ricky cocked his head to the side and a sly smile played at the corners of his mouth. Motherfucker. I reached into my pocket and slid a fifty across the bar. “Don’t push your luck, man.”

  Ricky laughed and took the money. “Yeah. I think the lighting just got a little better. He does look a little more familiar than the hundred other douchebags.”

  “Well, I’m glad you found some clarity. Tell me what you know.”

  Ricky shrugged and fingered the edges of the photo. “College Boy. Can’t tell you his real name, but he’s been in a couple of times. Sticks out like a sore thumb. So I’d say, hey, College Boy, what are you drinking? Three or four times maybe over the last six months or so I seen him. One time he came by himself. Then he met somebody. It’s not good, Brax, whatever he’s into. Kid’s a dumb shit if he can’t figure that out on his own.”

  “Who’d he meet, Ricky? I’m kind of trying to figure out what kind of trouble he’s messing with. Is it local? You think he’s selling or just using?”

  Ricky raised his eyebrows and his face twitched. There was something he didn’t want to tell me. That meant he was worried enough his talking to me about this might get back to someone. That was bad mojo right there.

  I pulled the other slip of paper Nicole gave me out of my pocket and stabbed a finger over the names she’d written. “You recognize any of these guys? I didn’t. But you know dealing was never our scene.”

  “You think it’s mine?”

  I put a hand up in surrender. “No. Shit, man. No. But you’ve got eyes and ears. I’m asking you to use them. Give me a little help here. This kid might be a dipshit but I’m thinking real strongly he’s in over his head with something. I haven’t decided how deeply I want to get involved. You may be able to help me make up my mind.”

  Ricky chewed his bottom lip as his eyes darted over the paper. He rubbed the skin on the back of his neck before slowly bringing it down and pointing to the second name on the list.

  “Hodges. Daryl Hodges.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “That’s the guy College Boy met here one night. You need to stay out of this one, Brax. That piece of advice is on the house.”

  “Why, Ricky?”

  Ricky shook his head and whistled through the gap in his teeth. “Young blood. Small time so far but you don’t wanna go there.”

  “Goddammit, Ricky, out with it.”

  “He was a hang-a-round. Big on words. Small on brains. But he came in here a few

  times with Garth Kincaid, Brax.”

  My heart turned to stone as I let out a slow breath. Ricky nodded, seeing my reaction.

  “Now you want my opinion, they’re lowering their standards with a guy like Hodges. But the last time I saw this Daryl fella, he was wearing a cut. Not fully patched, but he’s a probie, Brax. Hodges is with the Red Brigands.”

  “Fuck.” I slammed my fist against the bar. Ricky’s face went white, but he crossed his arms in front of him and nodded. Fuck, indeed. Of all the things Ricky could have told me, he’d just laid out the one situation where I couldn’t offer Nicole a damn bit of help. And it probably meant her brother was already dead.

  Chapter Four

  Ricky made another offer to pour me a bourbon and this time I said yes.

  “You’re one hundred percent sure?” I think I’d asked him that ten times.

  Ricky pursed his lips together as he poured the shot and slid it across to me. “Sorry, man. I guess you gotta decide how bad you really want to help this friend of yours.”

  I downed the bourbon, lifted the glass to Ricky then set it down on the bar bottom-side up. “Thanks for the tip and the drink. And that cash you just pocketed buys you keeping your mouth shut that I even asked.”

  Ricky nodded. He knew the drill. I scooped up Nicole’s photo and paperwork and stuffed it into my back pocket as I headed out the door.

  I slid my helmet over my ears and straddled my Harley. A crisp spring breeze lifted the hair off my collar. I stabbed my fingers through my leather gloves as I tried to figure out what to do.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  I wasn’t afraid of the Red Brigands M.C. Not by a long shot. They ran their operation more toward Indianapolis and mostly stayed out of our shit. But I’d be lying if I said things were easy between their club and ours. Never an all-out war, but the Brigands and the Wolves had a precarious truce. We stayed out of their backyard. They stayed out of ours. Their shit was bad shit. Drugs. Prostitution. One of the reasons the Lincolnshire P.D. tolerated the Wolves, even under the old regime, was because we kept worse elements like the Brigands out of town. So if Doug Ridley was mixed up with them, it told me two things, neither of them good.

  First, if Ridley was dealing for them and begging Nicole for money, he was probably already in too deep to save. Second, it made me wonder what the hell the Brigands were doing sending a prospect up this far into our territory. The first thing I couldn’t do much about. The second thing could mean something God awful for my town. It could also mean something far more dangerous to Nicole if her brother tried to drag her into his shit even further.

  My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I pulled it out. No matter what else happened, I ne
eded to bring this to the table. Colt and Kellan needed in on it too. I looked at the caller ID and let out a breath. Better to rip this particular Band-Aid off sooner rather than later.

  “Anderson,” I said into the phone.

  I heard a breath. Then another. I imagined she was on the other end working up the courage to say whatever she wanted to say.

  “Brax?” Nicole’s voice was shaky. She was out of breath.

  “Nicole?”

  She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to bother. I called The Wolf Den. Your friend Tate gave me your number. Don’t be mad at him. I kind of insisted.”

  “It’s okay. What’s up?”

  “I’ve heard from Doug.”

  My heart dropped. I could tell by her tone whatever he’d said to her had scared the shit out of her.

  “How much does he want this time?” Sure, it was insensitive of me, but this girl needed to start facing the truth.

  “Brax, he sounded really scared. He thinks someone’s going to kill him. I think maybe he’s out of time.”

  I choked back the thing I wanted to say next. He’s probably right, honey.

  “Nicole. I want you to listen to me very carefully. Don’t give him any money. Do you understand what I’m telling you? Doug’s got bigger problems than I think you realize.”

  “Do you know where he is? Were you able to find anything out?”

  Shit. This was the wrong way to play this. I should have just told her sorry, but this isn’t my problem. Your brother ain’t worth the inevitable shit storm to my club.

  “Honey, you need to tell me you understand what I’m saying to you.”

  She let out a choked sound that tore at me a little. I felt like an ass. Doug Ridley was just another dipshit user. But to Nicole he was family. Fucking family. She started to cry.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. Can we meet? You got time for coffee? I’ll come to you. Just promise me you won’t give any more money to that dip—your brother until I see you.”

  She sniffled into the phone and I took that as a yes.

  “Where are you, honey?”

  “What?” She gave a proper snort into the phone that actually pierced my ear. “Oh. I thought you knew. I’m at the parlor right now.”

  “The parlor?”

  “Ridley’s Ice Cream? My dad’s place. I run it now.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. An ice cream shop. The Homecoming Queen now ran the family ice cream shop. God. What the hell was I getting myself into?

  “Can you come? We’re pretty dead right now. I’m here by myself. I don’t have anyone coming in until after two o’clock. We get a little busy right after school lets out.”

  “I’m on my way,” I said, already revving my engine. I tore off toward the center of town.

  Dammit. Going to see her again was probably a mistake. Why couldn’t I have just told her I was out over the phone? Because I wanted to see her again. Bad. Maybe the rest of the guys were right. I couldn’t seem to stop thinking with my dick. A pissed-off hostess was one thing. Borrowing trouble from a rival club was something else. I made the turn toward the center of town and parked right in front of City Hall. The ice cream parlor was tucked on a corner between Hubbard’s Barber Shop and Robert’s Dry Cleaners.

  Ridley’s Ice Cream Shop. Fuck. I don’t think I’d ever been in the place. Not my kind of crowd. I looked left and right, half expecting someone to laugh as they watched me walk in. The place was empty, just like Nicole predicted. I weaved my way around the red leather booths and black-and-white-checkered tabletops. The place was clean. White bread. It felt a little like stepping into a 1950s time capsule.

  She came out from the kitchen looking like a sweet treat herself. A cotton-candy-pink polyester dress with a stiff collar and a little white apron in front. The short skirt barely covered her ass and I couldn’t help fantasizing about what she’d look like bent over in it. My jeans got tight and I blew out a breath as I approached her. Nicole might have been dressed like candy, but she had fire in her eyes as I towered over her.

  “What do you know, Brax? Tell me.”

  So that was it. No preamble. No tears. Nicole had steeled her back to hear me deliver the bad news.

  “Cute dress,” I said, not able to help myself. My smile grew wide when she flashed me her middle finger. Dammit. I liked this girl more and more.

  “I’m not going to make my waitresses wear something I wouldn’t. It’s kind of a tradition. Part of the draw.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I can see why. I’m impressed. Can we sit down?”

  Nicole motioned to the nearest booth. “Do you want something?”

  I bit my lip. Yeah. I wanted her. That should have been my first clue that this little meeting wasn’t going to go how I wanted. “I’m good,” I said. “I can’t stay long, I need to get back to The Den. And I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of time before this place fills up again. I gotta say, I didn’t think I’d ever be caught dead in here.”

  “No. I suppose you wouldn’t. And my father probably would have thrown you out if you tried back in the day.”

  I laughed at that. “That makes your dad a pretty smart guy. He still back there?”

  Nicole’s eyes grew dark and I knew I’d hit on something painful. Well, shit. You really can’t pick your family, can you?

  “No. He’s gone. But let’s talk about Doug. Tell me what I need to know.”

  That was an odd way of putting it, but smart too. Nicole might be reckless, but I already knew she wasn’t stupid. I couldn’t tell her everything. Part of the truce we had with the Brigands meant I couldn’t go blabbing their business to someone who didn’t understand it. But I gave her the highlights. She listened, her expression stoic. Only the slightest arch of a single eyebrow showed her distress.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have more to tell you. But Doug’s been seen in the company of some pretty bad dudes, Nicole. And I’m guessing none of this information comes as much of a shock to you. But I can tell you that these particular bad dudes aren’t going to think twice about hurting Doug or more importantly you if you get in their way.”

  “So what do I do?” She slammed her back against the red leather booth. “How do I get him out of it?”

  “You don’t. You hear from him again? You call the cops and tell them where they can find him. Let him get picked up. Guys like your brother, a night in the county jail usually does the trick on straightening them out.”

  It was a lie, mostly. But I had to give her something. She knew I was holding back. If I told her it was the Red Brigands, it could do more harm than good.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, her bottom lip quivering for just a fraction of a second before she composed herself again. “I think you probably know exactly where to find him.”

  “So what if I do? Look, you don’t know me. You didn’t really know me fifteen years ago and you sure as shit don’t know me now. I’m sorry, cupcake, but I can’t get involved with this one. And you really need to find a way to stay out of it too. Your brother’s a grown man. If I’m right about his type, this isn’t the first time he’s messed up his life and it probably won’t be the last.”

  No sooner had the words come out of my mouth that I wanted to take them back. Well, not so much take them back, but soften them. Nicole reared back, almost as if I’d slapped her. Fuck, I felt bad for it. But I’d been honest. I needed to get some distance from this particular jackpot. For half a second, I thought she was going to cry. Maybe she would have. But something changed in her face as she stared me down across the table. Fury came into her eyes, the emerald irises turning to steel.

  “You made me a promise fifteen years ago that I intend to hold you to.”

  My blood simmered. Was she fucking serious? She was going to try holding me to something I said when I was eighteen years old and thinking about getting into her pants? But when the fire flashed in her eyes, it stirred me again, just like it had all those years ago. Fuck. I still wanted into her pants.

>   I leaned across the booth and took her wrists. I pulled her across the table and got nose to nose with her. Her breath came hot, her breasts heaved. I knew full fucking well that if I’d reached under the table, I’d find her hot and wanting, just like the other day.

  “And I seem to remember you making me an offer. Should I hold you to that?”

  Her mouth dropped open then formed a sexy little “o.” Dammit. I could barely think straight around her.

  “I don’t make promises or offers I don’t intend to keep.” Her tone was flat, steady. She wasn’t going to back down, no matter what she thought it might cost her. Yeah. It might not have been the most honorable thing to think, but right then I thought about the sweet taste of her lips. Both of them.

  She fucking made me blink first. I let out a hard breath and loosened my grip on her wrists. I dropped one hand to the table, pounding my fist hard enough that she jumped. I didn’t mean to scare her. Fuck. Maybe I did. She should be scared. Of me. Of the Brigands. Of something, dammit.

  “I can’t help Doug,” I said flatly. “And I can’t tell you why. Not all of it anyway.”

  She pulled her wrist out of my fingers. “Then we don’t have anything left to talk about. I appreciate your time, Mr. Anderson.”

  “Oh. Like that is it now?”

  “Yes.” She hissed her answer. “You’d better leave. You were right about what you said in the first place. Maybe people like you don’t belong in a place like this.”

  Fucking hell. She stood and stepped out of the booth, leaving me there with my mouth hanging and my balls in a knot. I couldn’t blame her though. Well, maybe a little. But no piece of ass was worth dragging my club into a war that wasn’t ours. We’d figure out what to do, if anything, about the Brigands showing up at The Shires, but that’s as much as I could afford to get involved. As much as this chick stirred my blood and points lower down, I had to get a handle on it quick.

  I got up out of my seat and closed the distance between us. Nicole’s breath hitched and she clenched her jaw hard as she craned her neck to keep eye contact with me.