by Jen Davis
Sucre shot him a bored look. “And my money?”
Tre swallowed, probably now beginning to realize the depth of his mistake.
“You did ask about my money. Right?”
“Obviously he didn’t have it, boss, so he tried to get the jump on me.”
Sucre narrowed his eyes. “So, he’ll have it tomorrow? What did he say? Exactly.”
Tre blinked quickly, his brain likely making all those connections he should have considered an hour ago. “He didn’t say anything, boss.”
Sucre stood, and the girls at his feet scattered. “Why not?”
Throwing his shoulders back, Tre went all in. “Because he was too busy getting his ass kicked. Fucker needed to learn you don’t mess with me.”
The deep, low laugh from Sucre’s throat made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
“He learned he doesn’t mess with you?”
Sucre never looked away from Tre, but Brick knew what would come next. “Brick. Who exactly should people in this town know not to mess with?”
He rose to his feet and nodded with deference. “You, Sucre.”
Tre spoke up. “I meant—”
Sucre wrapped his hand around the column of Tre’s neck before he could finish making his excuse. The men stood about the same height, so they stared at each other eye-to-eye. “Tell me, Tre, what condition did you leave Bennie in after this lesson of yours?”
Tre didn’t answer.
“Was he dead or alive?”
“I’m not sure.” Finally, the bluster disappeared.
“Brick?” Sucre asked quietly.
“Dead.”
Sucre moved his face so close to Tre’s, he could have kissed him. “Let me make sure I understand this. You killed somebody who owed me money. You didn’t get my cash. You didn’t even try. And what? You left his fucking body in the middle of a public place?”
Silence.
“Answer me, niño,” he breathed.
“Yes, sir.”
For the first time, Sucre turned his head to face Brick, but his hand stayed planted firmly at the base of Tre’s neck. “I assume you took care of this, Brick?”
“Of course.”
“Where is the body now?”
“In the bed of my truck, parked out back.” He dug out the two twenties he’d lifted off Bennie. “This was all the money he had on him.”
“Bring it to my office. Bring Tre too. Someone will take care of Bennie while we all…talk this through.”
He knew Tre would be getting a lesson from Sucre tonight, but he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to watch. He nodded at Sucre’s words and guided Tre to the back room. The kid eyed the bed but didn’t ask any questions.
Sucre joined them a minute later, loosening his tie as he came in the door. “You want to help me deliver this lesson, Brick?”
“No, sir. I don’t.” The very thought of it turned his stomach.
The boss lifted his eyebrow as he hung his jacket on the back of a chair. Brick almost never told him no, but the man had asked him what he wanted. He took a chance with the truth.
“All right, but if this lesson doesn’t take, I might need your considerable, ah, assets to help drive home the message next time. Now get out of here.”
Tre looked like a rabbit caught in a snare.
Brick dropped Bennie’s money on one of the chairs, then backed out the door.
“Drop your pants, boy,” Sucre purred. “This is going to hurt.”
***
Brick spent twenty minutes in the shower, trying to wash off the horrors of the day. It never worked, but he couldn’t stop trying. His skin turned red and raw from how hard he scrubbed, but nothing could erase the mental picture of what would happen to Tre tonight or the memories of what the kid did to Bennie.
He’d seen a lot of fucked-up shit in his life, and he’d learned to lock it all up in a box inside his head. The box didn’t usually leak until he was alone. Right now, it threatened to explode.
Wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants, he ambled to the fridge and grabbed a beer. The cold, crisp taste normally helped soothe him, but tonight, he didn’t think anything could distract him from the vile images crowding his mind.
Nothing, except Olivia.
He glanced at the clock on the microwave and shook his head at the display. Only nine o’clock. He would have guessed closer to midnight.
Early enough she was probably awake. She’d given him her number. He could call her.
But what could he say? Hey baby, I watched a guy get beat to death tonight. How was your day?
He shook his head and carried the cold glass bottle to his bed, where he propped himself up against the pillows on the headboard. His phone sat right there on the wobbly nightstand, a tempting distraction from the nasties assaulting his brain.
It wouldn’t take much. He wanted to hear her voice. To feel like a normal man for a little while.
He didn’t keep any contacts in his phone, so he went to his list of recent calls. Hers was the only number he hadn’t erased. He resolved to memorize it, to minimize the possibility of exposing her.
His finger hovered over the touchscreen for several seconds, as his need for her warred with his conscience. His conscience lost. Before he could argue with himself any longer, he touched the screen, initiating the call.
She answered on the first ring, and her soft voice soothed like a gentle balm on his ragged soul. “Hello?”
“Olivia?” he rasped.
“You called. I—I didn’t think you would, but I’m glad you did.”
He took a long pull of his beer. “I just…wanted to hear your voice.”
She made a small humming sound. “Bad night?” She didn’t wait for an answer, which was a blessing. “I have a feeling your threshold is pretty high.”
He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. She had no idea.
Or maybe she did. The girl was pretty fucking perceptive. Beautiful and smart. The whole package.
He needed to lose himself in her for a while. “What are you doing right now?” he asked.
“Mmm. Grading papers. I’m glad you’re giving me an excuse to take a break. How are things going at the construction site?”
“Not bad. I worked with your brother today.” Though the man hadn’t even spared him a glance. These days, Will treated him as though he didn’t even exist. At least the guy didn’t try to take a swing at him.
“How is it with him? He’s not being an asshole, is he?”
He loved the bite in her voice. Like she would take her brother to task for him. He’d never ask her to, but the idea warmed him. “Nah. But things would probably change if he knew we were talking right now.” Will could never know. Nobody could.
“I am going to tell him about us.”
He sat up, tendrils of alarm wrapping around his chest. “Tell him what? There’s nothing to tell.”
She laughed softly. “Yes, there is. I’m going to tell him we’re talking. He should know… I like you. I want his support.”
“Olivia, you can’t.” Even one person knowing she mattered to him was one person too many. Even if Will would never intentionally hurt her, one wrong word said to one wrong person could be the difference between life and death.
“I can, and I will. Look, my family is important to me. You’re not some dirty little secret I have to keep.”
Another flash of warmth shot through him, but he shook it off. “I know, baby, but…there are bad people in my life.” Understatement of the year. “We have to be careful or they’ll hurt you to hurt me.”
She said nothing for a moment, then she answered. “Someday, you’re going to fill me in on those details, but I’ll accept what you’re saying for now. Still, you’re not getting off the hook with my family. They won’t spread our business to the underworld. I promise.”
Will would lose his shit—and rightfully so—but Brick couldn’t help the welling pride because this smart, beautiful wom
an wanted to claim him as her own. No one had wanted to claim him in, well, ever. “Your brother is not going to take this well.”
Her laugh tinkled like bells. God, he loved the sound of it. “You let me worry about my brother. We’re having lunch together next Sunday. I’ll break it to him in person.”
At least he had a little more than a week before the inevitable fallout. “You’ll call me if you need me before then?” he asked gruffly.
“I promise. Sweet dreams,” she said before hanging up.
“They’ll all be of you,” he whispered into the silence.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brick
Brick mopped the sweat off his face with the bandana he always kept in his back pocket. The plumbers finished up their part yesterday, and he was knocking out the punch list at the Burgundy house with the quiet guy, Matt. Kane worked at the other site, since this part didn’t really require three men. Brick could’ve done it alone, but Robby never scheduled anyone to do stuff by themselves.
The kid had dropped by to check things out and deliver a cooler filled with red sports drinks. “Can you believe this heat? It’s usually June before it gets this bad. How are you holding up, Brick?”
He took one of the offered bottles and unscrewed the cap. “The drinks help. Thanks, kid.” Guzzling down some icy-cold Gatorade took some of the edge off the sweltering heat.
“The forecast says it will be better tomorrow.” Robby shot him a winning grin. “You look like you’re in a good mood this morning, which is awesome. I worried about you a little after the other day. I guess I’m not used to seeing you bummed out. You were kind of like a sad Incredible Hulk.”
Wait. What?
Robby’s thoughts had obviously moved on, his eyes shifting from side to side. “Um. Where’s Matt? I, uh, I thought he might be thirsty too.”
Ah. One mystery solved. “Matt, huh?”
Robby’s expression looked like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What? No. I mean. Crap,” Robby stammered. “I wanted to give the man a drink. No big deal.”
Chuckling, he gestured toward the stairs. “He’s on the second floor.”
Robby pasted a bored expression on his face, but his eyes were still like a deer caught in headlights. Taking a deep breath in, then letting it out, he started toward the stairs.
“Hey, kid?”
Robby looked over his shoulder.
“You might want to bring the drinks.”
Squeezing his eyes together tightly, Robby grabbed a bottle from the cooler and headed toward his target. Too bad the kid was barking up the wrong tree. Robby deserved a nice guy to make him happy.
He hadn’t seen Matt so much as acknowledge Robby’s existence. The man wasn’t rude or anything, simply self-contained. And if the car seat in his sensible sedan gave any indication, he had a baby at home.
Still, Robby couldn’t help how he felt about Matt any more than Brick could about Olivia. Knowing something’s impossible in your head doesn’t really change what’s in your heart. If it did, life would be a hell of a lot easier.
Robby came back down, carrying only a fraction of the high spirits he had before. He also still carried the Gatorade. “He already had a drink,” he murmured as he dropped it back in the cooler.
“Sorry, kid.”
Robby flinched a little with his words, and he resolved never to call him a kid again. “Robby,” he said deliberately. “You can’t take it personally. You’re a great guy. Matt…just doesn’t seem to be looking for a guy right now.”
Robby didn’t quite smile, but something in his face did change. “Thanks, Brick. I know I’m stupid sometimes, but you never make me feel ridiculous. I’m glad you’re my friend.”
For once, he didn’t argue. He let the compliment wash over him as Robby patted him on the back and walked out to his truck a little bit lighter than when the day began.
Maybe he could be a good guy. If he could ever get away from his old life.
***
Liv
It had been way too long since Liv had shared a meal with Carol and her girlfriend. So, when they invited her to Alma Cocina for Mexican to celebrate the end of the school year, declining didn’t even occur to her. Besides, Rosita said their carnitas were to die for.
She rushed home and washed off the stink from her visit to the gym. She made it to the restaurant at exactly seven-fifty-nine. One minute to spare before their agreed-upon time.
Rosita walked up right behind her. “Great timing.” Carol’s girlfriend folded her into a generous embrace. Rosita’s short and round body presented the perfect complement to Carol’s slender frame.
Dozens of other diners crowded the place, but Carol had been smart enough to grab them a reservation online, so they went straight to the table. They ordered margaritas as the server brought out their chips and salsa.
“We picked a busy night.” Rosita crunched on a chip. “Thank God these tables are spread out, or I’d be claustrophobic right now.”
She nodded and took in the atmosphere. The place had a modern feel with dark wood floors and a giant metal spherical light fixture hanging in the middle of the ceiling, which looked like an art piece to illuminate the room. Dozens of ongoing conversations generated a low-level buzz accompanied by an occasional clink from the busboy clearing plates.
She took a sip of her drink, and the tart taste of lime made her taste buds tingle. The aftertaste of the tequila made her shudder. “Holy cow, this is strong.”
Rosita sipped hers and shook her shoulders in agreement. “Woo! The tequila packs a punch for sure. Only one for me tonight.”
“Me too. Don’t even get me started on the last time I had too much to drink. I could barely make it through the next day. One of my students had to lead the class.” She eyed Carol with a trace of embarrassment, waiting for the inevitable teasing, then crammed a salsa-covered chip into her mouth.
Carol didn’t take the bait but rubbed at her eyes instead. Maybe she was working too hard. God made a special place in heaven for social workers.
Before Liv could ask how things were going, though, her friend excused herself for a trip to the bathroom.
“I’m worried about her.” Rosita massaged her temples. “She needs to go get a check-up.”
She stilled, fear climbing into her throat.
No. Carol got a clean bill of health at the same time she did. They had their last round of chemo on the same day, months ago. “I think she must be overdoing it at work. Have you talked with her about it?”
Rosita shook her head. “You think it’s work? She won’t discuss it.” She took a gulp of her margarita. “Sometimes, she seems fine. Great, even. Like when she’s talking about the stupid list you two have. Or when she’s telling a joke or when we dance. But then sometimes, it’s like she’s made of old paper liable to disintegrate if I touch her.” She looked up, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I’m scared.”
Carol approached the table now, her gait slow. But as other diners drifted in and out of her path, Liv couldn’t tell if she would have moved differently without the crowd. “I’ll talk to her. When we go shopping next weekend. I promise.”
The waitress brought out their food, and it smelled so amazing they quit talking for a few minutes to dig in. She had taken Rosita’s advice and ordered the carnita tacos. They were as delectable as promised. Some kind of pineapple salsa happening on top set off the pork to perfection.
They polished off their meal, and she watched Carol smile lovingly at Rosita. Her friend looked happy—tired, but happy. Everything would be fine.
She went home with a full belly and a light heart. Good friends. A sexy guy. A great job. Everything was falling into place, especially now, with her brother out of jail and part of the family again. The flat two-dimensional world she’d been living gained texture every day.
Smiling, she texted Brick.
Liv: Can u talk?
; About five minutes later, he sent his reply.
Brick: Give me an hour.
After another minute, he sent a follow-up.
Brick: OK?
How cute.
Liv: I’ll be here.
She changed into a pink cami and white capri pajama pants with little red hearts, then settled in on the couch with her Kindle. The hour flew by as she sank into the story filled with magic and swords, but when the phone rang, she had it to her ear in a second.
“Hello?” Did she sound breathless? Hopefully, he didn’t notice.
“Sorry I couldn’t talk before. Is everything okay?” He always worried about her.
“Everything is great. I had a fantastic night and I wanted to cap it off by talking to you.”
“What made it so fantastic?” His words came out guarded.
“The company. I went out to dinner with Carol and her girlfriend. We ate and had margaritas. I’ve got a new book, and I’m curled up on the sofa, which by the way, is my favorite way to spend a Friday night. Now I’m talking to you. So yeah, fantastic.” She ignored the temptation to ask him what he’d been doing tonight. She had a feeling he wouldn’t want to share.
“I was…working.”
“I figured,” she said softly. “I know you don’t want to talk about it.”
“No. I want to keep the shit part of my life far away from this. From you.”
She picked up one of the throw-pillows she’d tossed on the floor and hugged it to her. “I feel like you know everything about me, but I don’t know anything about you. Tell me…about your childhood. What were you like as a kid?”
“I was poor.” His response came quick and razor sharp.
She refused to fill the silence afterward. It stretched for nearly a minute.
Eventually, he sighed. His words resumed haltingly. “My mom worked two jobs. Waitressing and cleaning houses. She was a first-generation Machwaya immigrant. Even though she grew up in Chicago, mostly in foster care, she was a Rom born in Serbia. I thought she was beautiful, but she looked different, sounded different from anyone around here. Even with a green card, good work was hard to come by.” He paused. “My dad…was a junkie. Maybe he was less of a piece of shit when she married him, but who knows?”