Five brothers, p.9
Five Brothers, page 9
I take my sister’s hand again, the keys and bag of food in my other. “Find something they want more,” I muse out loud, looking up at all the old license plates bolted to the ceiling. Maine, South Dakota, Arizona…Strange that I’ve been to Fiji and Athens but haven’t even seen the Grand Canyon or Mount Rushmore. “Or give them a reason to find it unappealing here, I guess.”
I leave with my sister, buckling her into the car and setting the food safely on the passenger seat.
But before I climb in, I look up.
Macon stares at me from under the hood, and I pause, frozen for a moment.
He never looks at me.
I can count on one hand the number of times he’s spoken to me.
A flutter hits my stomach, but before I can read the look in his eyes, he turns back to his work and refixes the ever-present lock in his jaw.
I climb into the car, my forehead cooling with a light sweat.
5
Krisjen
I don’t realize I’m speeding out of the Bay until I run over a pothole and nearly hit my head on the roof of the car.
I slow down, checking my rearview mirror like I pissed off Macon in some way and he’ll send someone after me.
Why was he looking at me? That’s not a good sign.
Not that it would be unpleasant to have the attention of someone who looks like him, but I don’t think anyone has ever given the impression they want to be on Macon’s radar. In fact, I’m pretty sure his usual avoidance of making direct eye contact is a mercy on his part, because he knows he scares people. If he gives you his attention, you immediately worry you’ve been caught misbehaving.
Did I say something? I don’t even remember.
Just then, my phone rings, and I snap my attention back to the present. Steering the car with one hand, I dig in my purse with the other. I finally find my phone, glancing at Paisleigh in the back seat. Her head sways against the seat, her eyes starting to fall closed.
Marshall’s name shines on my screen, and I swipe, answering it.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m on my way. I have dinner.”
“Can you come and get me?”
The car veers into the wrong lane, and I jerk the wheel, correcting myself.
“What? Where are you?”
I check the clock on my dad’s dash, but it still reads 2:04 from when it stopped running years ago.
“Fox Hill,” he replies.
I clench the phone. No one’s playing golf this late. And the family men are home at dinner.
All that’s left are the plotters, pushers, and playboys—and twelve-year-olds who have “victim” written all over them. Dammit. “Be there in ten.”
I hang up before I scream at him. “Shit!” I whisper-yell, tossing the phone and kicking the floor. I hit the gas, flying to the country club and slowing down only while on Main Street, because a speeding ticket will just delay me more.
The highway curves to the right, but I keep straight, coasting between the two large stone pillars and down the dark drive. Trees line both sides of the private entrance, immediately secluding visitors in a quiet landscape that makes you feel like you’re deep in the country.
Without slowing down, I race past the guardhouse. The security detail checks in members as they arrive, but after six o’clock on a Sunday, it’s empty.
Cruising up to the clubhouse, I pull in behind a black Audi that I know belongs to Clay’s father because it’s new, and apparently a source of friction between him and her mom—his soon-to-be ex-wife. Something about frozen money until they decide how much belongs to who. Why do divorcing couples think that’s a good time to go buy a flashy car? I hope she takes it. Go, Mrs. Collins.
I crack my window, turn off the engine, and tilt my mirror, seeing Paisleigh’s head hanging off her neck like a tetherball. Taking my phone and keys, I climb out and close the door, dialing my brother.
He breathes hard in my ear.
“I’m here,” I tell him, checking that my sister is still asleep through the window. “Where are you?”
“Upstairs.”
“So come down.”
“They won’t let me.”
I freeze. “Who?”
But he just snickers. “Do you seriously have to ask?”
He hangs up, and I stick my phone in my pocket as the sprinklers kick on out on the course. The doorman peeks around the corner to see if I’m coming or not, but I just stand there.
I know who’s up there, and have a vague idea of what he wants. I also know that while he’s a little stupid, coercion is his strength.
Milo.
I lock the car doors and stalk up to the clubhouse. Rafe rushes to open the door, tucking his other hand behind his back as he smiles at me.
“Keep an eye on my sister, please?” I tell him.
He shoots up straight, glancing at my car. “Huh?”
“She’s asleep in the back seat,” I call out, running inside and up the stairs. “I’ll be quick! I promise!”
“Ms. Conroy!”
But I ignore his protest, swinging around the banister and down the hall to the right.
Mahogany paneling on the walls gleams in the soft light of the sconces, and I brush past the painting of my grandfather holding a cigar and standing next to a silver-haired Great Dane. He doesn’t have a Great Dane. Never did. He has four King Charles spaniels. And cigars make him sick.
Deer antlers jut from the wall, and I jump out of the way before I’m stabbed in the eye. I push through the closed door at the end of the hall, letting it fly open as I enter the Wainwright Room, and stare at my brother where he stands next to the two-seater table, waiting for me.
His blue eyes raise just enough but then drop quickly again. He knows he fucked up. I jerk my chin at him. “How did you get here?”
“I picked him up.”
Milo sits at the table, doling out a hand of solitaire like he’s a king hovering over maps and planning a war.
Or like he has any idea how to play anything other than Go Fish.
My former boyfriend decided not to attend college right away, either. Instead, he’s been interning at his older brother’s law office, but probably using most of his mental capacity on just learning to tie a tie every morning.
“So this is your life now?” I ask him, glancing at his friends, whom I don’t know, who are sitting on the couches near the fireplace. Two guys, one girl. New faces, because nearly all of our high school friends went off to school this fall. “Taking your petty pleasures wherever you can get them?”
Milo smiles, his black hair combed and shiny, not a strand out of place. “I just wanted to lure you back to your side of the tracks tonight. Where you belong.”
How did he know I was in Sanoa Bay?
I step closer, glaring down. He still hasn’t looked at me.
“You don’t give a shit about me,” I say in a low voice. “You never did. Your pride is hurt because I like them more than you.”
His small grin locks in place as he stares at the cards, and for a moment, everything stops, because I know that look. The look of him angry and on the cusp of violence.
I shouldn’t have said that. It’ll only bring attention onto Liv’s brothers.
“Did you know your sister is in bed with a Jaeger?” He looks up at Mars.
But instead, I order my brother, “Let’s go.”
“In a year, they’ll be gone.” Milo continues placing cards. “The government will declare eminent domain and sell the land out from under them because it’s more valuable as a resort. Tryst Six will end.”
I shoot my brother a glare. “Now.”
But when he meets my eyes, I notice his pupils. They’re huge. The blue is barely visible.
I lean over the table, swiping my hand over the white residue on the glass.
My heart pounds in my ears.
“You son of a bitch,” I whisper.
“He wanted some,” Milo explains.
I tremble. Macon would handle this beautifully. Like a fucking Spartan. And all I can do is swear at him? I want a knife. A weapon. Something.
I swing my arm across the table, sending his cards to the floor, and get down in his face.
Slowly, he rises, and I know everyone in the room is watching us. We stand toe to toe, his eyes cast down at me, only slightly taller as he grins.
And then…
He swings his hand out, and I twist away, rearing back to shield myself from the blow.
But it doesn’t come.
He drops his arm, chuckling as his friends join in and the room fills with laughter.
I drop my hands, steeling my jaw.
“You don’t even know, do you?” he taunts me. “You have all the power in the world. Not me.”
He grabs me between the legs, and I yell, pushing him, but he pulls me in, holding me tight.
“You could stop all of this,” he breathes down on me. “If you learned to use your head, you’d already see that. You have all the power and no clue how to use it.”
What the fuck is he talking about?
“But you were never that bright.” He kisses me, his wet mouth making me gag.
I twist away, pushing him off, and charge for the door. “Mars!” I yell.
With my brother behind me, we leave, but I refuse to give Milo the satisfaction of seeing me run. I grip my brother’s wrist, damn near digging my nails into his skin.
“Krisjen,” Mars says, but it sounds less like he’s trying to slow me down and more like an apology. I’m not even that mad at him, although he knows Milo and I ended things badly. He doesn’t know most of it, but he knows enough, and he never should’ve taken his call or gotten into his car tonight.
But it’s not his fault. It’s mine. Iron was right.
I drag my brother down the stairs and across the lobby, but I hear a male voice behind me. “Ms. Conroy.”
I stop, remembering Clay’s father is here. But when I turn, I see it’s not him after all. Jerome Watson walks up to me from the lounge, every seat at the bar behind him nearly full, and every one of them men.
He looks at me with a gleam in his gray eyes, and I keep my hand on my brother’s wrist. I wish it were Clay’s dad.
He stops, his white shirt wrinkled but still tucked into his black suit pants. His tie and jacket are probably discarded somewhere in the bar. He smiles, only a few dark blond hairs out of place at his temple. Still a full head of hair, though. At least there’s that.
“I missed you at church this morning,” he says.
He glances at Mars and then reaches into his pocket, pulling a twenty and holding it out to my brother. “Here, why don’t you get a snack?”
But I push Mars toward the door, handing him my keys. “Paisleigh’s in the car. Wait for me there.”
He casts a worried glance between Jerome and me, but he does what he’s told. I face the older man again.
His lips curl into a smile. “Your TikTok was cute.”
I arch an eyebrow. He has TikTok? Yay.
He inches closer, and while I would never back down from Milo, I have no problem backing up from this guy. I retreat a step.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he tells me. “I hope you’re going to be the one who knows me best.”
My tongue feels like sandpaper. I don’t want to get to know him.
He looks at me, and I feel like I’m naked. I know what he wants. I know what my mother is promising him. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. That’s a fact.
But it’s also not a solution.
He lowers his voice. “May I see you sometime?”
I open my mouth to refuse, but then I close it again. What had Milo said? You have all the power in the world. I don’t know what he meant, but I’m sure he meant something.
Jerome Watson is connected to everyone capable of making and breaking the Bay.
Before I can dwell too long, I hear myself tell him, “Maybe.”
Maybe he’ll be useful after all.
He smiles as he cups my cheek. But he doesn’t kiss me.
He walks back into the bar, and I wipe his touch off my face as I leave the club.
Rafe opens the door for me, and I head out into the middle of the driveway. Mars sits in the passenger seat, playing on his phone, while Paisleigh’s dark form is still passed out in the back seat.
I don’t go to the car, though. What did Milo mean?
I need to think.
I walk onto the green, between two trees, and stand still as the long shot of the sprinkler passes over my head. Water rains down on me, and I close my eyes and let my head fall back. A couple of nighthawks sing in the woods far ahead of me on the other side of the course, and I stay there as the sprinkler makes another round, and then another.
There’s a way out. That’s what Milo meant. For me, for the Jaegers, I don’t know, but if he were lying, he wouldn’t have been vague. He was being vague to taunt me.
The problem is I’m actually not that smart. I could have an aneurysm trying to crack this.
“I hate these people,” I say to myself. So many games. I hope Clay keeps Liv far away from it, because I would pity anyone marrying a Saint. Especially a Jaeger.
“Krisjen?” someone calls out.
I pop my eyes open and spin around as Army Jaeger emerges from the shadow between the trees.
I square my shoulders, watching him approach with his hands in his pockets and his eyes always steady. Like he never blinks.
He wears a forest-green T-shirt, the muscles in his chest just visible underneath, and I’ve always liked how his hair perpetually looks like he’s just a week or two overdue for a haircut.
What is he doing here?
I wipe the water and hair away from my eyes, glancing at Rafe still by the door, but I don’t see anyone else. I look back to Army. “Are you guys on call or something?” I grumble. “Someone needs an emergency lawn mowed in the middle of the night?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Ouch.”
But I can see the smile behind his feigned offense.
“Sorry,” I chuckle.
Iron’s got my claws out today. And then Milo. And then Jerome.
He pulls out a wad of cash and hands it to me. “I just wanted to give this back to you.”
I take it, puzzled. I recognize the torn five-dollar bill as part of the tip money I gave Macon earlier tonight.
I try to hand it back. “I want to pay for the repairs.”
“You did. You worked. That’s all we needed.”
“And my Rover?”
He’s quiet, as if he’s waiting for me to answer my own question. My dad’s car only had a flat tire, but according to Iron, my Rover has a lot more that needs to be done to it. It’s going to cost a lot.
Then it hits me.
“I’m not working at Mariette’s full-time,” I tell him, slipping the money into my pocket. “I don’t belong there.”
“Too low-class for you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He narrows his eyes, takes a step into my space, and I back up, but he keeps coming. “Let me tell you something, Conroy.” He’s never called me by my surname before. “Mariette has been working that joint since she was eleven. She’s never left the state, much less the country. She had no choices, so you know what she did? She played the hand she was dealt. She’s there seven days a week and has created a fucking culture inside those four walls. It’s not a restaurant. It’s a home. Kids have celebrated birthdays there. Couples have laughed through wedding receptions there, and a shit ton of people have lost their virginity either in the bathroom or in the parking lot, so I’m not going to stand here and listen to a rich girl tell me that where Mariette has spent three-fourths of her life is worthless and that she’s too good to be a waitress there.”
He raises his eyebrows, challenging me as he looks down like he’s waiting for me to get a clue.
I didn’t realize my mouth was hanging open until it goes dry, and I have to swallow to generate saliva. He’s always so calm. “I meant…the Bay.” Heat breaks out across my neck. “I don’t belong in the Bay, because I’m using you to hide from my responsibilities. And my future. I like it too much there, to be honest. That’s what I meant.”
He stares down at me.
I would never think I was too good for Mariette’s. I’m positive I want to do something else with my life, but it’s not like I believe waitressing is beneath me, either. I just need to get serious and find a way to escape my parents without abandoning Mars and Paisleigh.
Army finally lets out a quiet laugh, his expression softening. “And we like you there,” he tells me. “You fit in. Most of the guys you served at lunch today are next door at the bar right now, talking about your smile. One called you ‘damned cute.’ Another said ‘pleasant.’ I even think the word ‘delightful’ was used at some point.”
I smile, laughing under my breath. It feels good to hear that.
“And a few are talking about your legs,” he adds.
His eyes drop to them, and heat rises to my cheeks.
Does he notice my legs?
Out of all the brothers, Army is the one who puzzles me the most. He has no hobbies. No interests that I can tell. No friends of his own that he doesn’t share with his brothers. He doesn’t hunt. Fish. Read. Brew his own beer or weld weird garden sculptures. He doesn’t ride like Iron. Kill time on boats like Trace. Party and party some more like Dallas.
He’s at work. Or home. Always ready for when he’s needed. Like a firefighter.
Exactly like a firefighter, in fact. He’s indispensable.
Macon takes care of the land, the finances, and holds all the power, because he has the will to do what no one else will. Not even Army.
