After Alexan leaves for his meeting, I head out to visit my brother. I’m pretty sure my dad will be out running errands or something, which means it’s safe to go home for an hour. On the way, I shoot Cass a text and invite her back to Alexan’s house. She answers immediately: a thousand times yes, see you later.
I stop off for some coffee before heading into the house. “Hello?” I call out. The place is quiet. “Anyone home?” I head into the kitchen, dump everything on the table, and start going through the mail. There are a few unpaid bills Dad needs to take care of and dirty dishes in the sink. I’m tempted to start cleaning up and organizing, but I force myself to stop.
I don’t live here anymore. I don’t owe my father a second of my time.
There’s some bumping around from upstairs. I whistle to myself as I start making some eggs and toast. As I’m finishing up, Brenden appears in the kitchen behind me.
“Hey, little sister,” he says, shuffling over to the table. “Didn’t expect you today.”
“Just thought I’d drop in and—” I turn and stare at him.
My mouth drops open.
Brenden looks like shit. His right eye is swollen and puffy, and his mouth looks like someone kicked him in the teeth. He’s favoring his right side and curled over his left ever so slightly.
He tries to smile. “What’s wrong? You look like you got beat up.”
“Brenden…” I let that trail off. He grimaces and looks away.
Instead of starting the interrogation, I plate the toast, pile some eggs on top, and slide it in front of him.
He seems surprised but thankful. I get him ketchup and make sure he gets his coffee before I set myself up. We eat together in silence, forks scraping plates. I keep looking up at his bruised face, my heart skipping beats, a nervous fear jolting into my core.
Something is deeply, deeply wrong.
I knew it the second he came back. He’s been hiding something from me. But now the proof is written in bruises all over his face.
“It’s not as bad as you think,” he says once he’s finished. He sits back in his chair and drinks the coffee with a slight wince.
“Have you looked in a mirror?”
“I know.” He frowns, prodding at his mouth. “My poor, beautiful face.”
“I wouldn’t go as far as beautiful, but you’re right.”
He grins, coughs, groans, and sighs.
“I probably should’ve said something sooner,” he admits.
“Said something about what exactly?”
He levels an easy stare at me. “The heist I went on didn’t exactly go well.”
I let that sink in.
Brenden’s a kind of freelancer. He does jobs for the McGrath family but also takes on other work organized by other crews looking for temporary help. His job out in Vegas was one of those.
Slowly, he gives me the story. He talks about a guy he met named Marcus who had a solid plan put together. There was a small casino on the edge of town with some lax security practices, and Marcus knew how to exploit it. Brenden and a few other guys were brought in to help pull it off.
“Things went to plan at first,” my brother says as steam rises from his coffee cup. He cradles it in both hands. “We hit the money drop and used the manager’s key card to slip into the back. That’s where they kept the real cash. I filled my bag the way I was supposed to while the other guys did the same. Once we were loaded up, we were supposed to get out of there. But instead, and I swear I don’t know how, a fire got started. It caught the leftover cash we couldn’t fit in our bags, and the whole back room went up in seconds. It was madness. The smoke alarms went off, sprinklers turned on, the whole place went on lockdown. The other guys panicked, but I had enough sense to go for the door. The key card still worked, and I slipped out, but I guess I didn’t leave it open long enough because by the time I looked back, nobody had followed me out. I swear, Riley, I never would’ve left them behind, but I was choking on smoke, and I thought they were following.”
He stops his story. I know where this is going. He told me a thousand times: never, ever, ever let partners get caught. If there’s absolutely no other choice and everyone’s running, that’s one thing. At that point, it’s every man for himself.
But you don’t fuck over your crew. A thief that lets his crew get thrown in jail won’t stay a thief for long. Nobody wants to work with a guy like that.
And most thieves have friends, and most friends like revenge.
“They think you set the fire,” I say softly.
He nods, looking miserable. “It’s the fucking Los Sombras cartel. They’re the ones bankrolling the operation. If I had known from the start, I never would’ve touched the job, but Marcus swore he was running it alone. Motherfucker screwed me. The other guys got pinched, and they didn’t roll on me, but they did tell their friends on the outside what happened. And they made it very clear that I’m the reason they’re all in prison.”
“Oh, shit, Brenden,” I say with real sympathy.
“I know.” He musters a smile and gestures at his face. “Now you know why this isn’t a big deal.”
I nod slowly.
What he means is a little beating is nothing compared to what they’re going to do to him.
“Why haven’t they, you know—” I gesture at him.
“Killed me yet? They think I have the money still, and they want that before they put me in the ground.”
“Do you?”
He shakes his head. “If I did, I’d be gone. You think I’d come back here? I thought maybe Liam might protect me, but you know how it goes. If you take outside work and that work blows up in your face, it’s all on you.”
“Shit.” I stand up and stomp around the kitchen, pacing again. I can’t help myself. I can’t stay still when I’m all emotional like this. “Shit, shit, shit. That fucker Liam.”
“Come on, Riley, don’t be like that. We both know he’s not going to war with the cartel over me even if that wasn’t the policy.” He smiles weakly. “I’ll figure out how to handle this.”
We both know that’s bullshit.
If Los Sombras wants him dead, then he’s dead. I can’t say I know a ton about them, but that’s because nobody does. They’re mysterious, like the shadows in their name, the sombras. If they say Brenden has to die, then he’s going to die.
Only they’ll torture him first. Beating after beating after beating, until it escalates. They won’t stop until he gives them the money, whether he has it or not.
And then he’s still dead.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” I sit down heavily across from him again. I want to throw myself around the room. I want to break dishes.
I’m tempted to tell him about Mantis, but I don’t need him stressing about me.
Funny though, how we’re both fucked in different ways.
All thanks to our thieving.
“I told you, I’ll figure it out. Los Sombras isn’t as bad as everyone pretends. It’s just a reputation thing.” He smiles, trying to act brave.
I don’t believe it for a second.
“You need to tell someone. We need to help you. Maybe Alexan and the Brotherhood—”
“Won’t stick their neck out for some random Irish guy, brother-in-law or not.” He stands with a grunt and carries the plates to the sink. “Come on, Riles. Let’s hang out for a little while and act like shit’s normal, okay?”
“Brenden—”
“Seriously, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Come for a walk with me. Moving around will help with my injuries.”
I want to rage at him. I want to tell him to run away. But Los Sombras will follow, and they’ll leave a trail of death in their wake.
I feel small and powerless. My world is crumbling all around me. Brenden, Alexan, Mantis, Los Sombras. It’s all conspiring to take away the things I care about most.
“Yeah, alright, let’s go for a walk.” I force myself to my feet again. This time, I do my best to smile for him. “Bet you can’t even make it around the block.”
He stretches his back. “I’m not as bad as I look.”
“Bet you’re worse.”
“Let’s go then, smartass.”
I follow him to the door. We head out into the sunshine together. I let him set our pace as we amble around slowly, talking about light and easy things, while everything heavy remains weighing down my back, threatening to crush me.
