Page 1 of Pen Me

Chapter One

My Brother’s Keeper

Menace

I’d just cracked open a bottle of whiskey, straight out of the freezer. The stuff went down smooth and provided a satisfying afterburn when I came up for air. It’d been a long week.

I knew my older brother was in the hospital with two broken legs after laying his bike down in Chicago. Everyone did. I was also aware that the father of his passenger had carved one of his eyes out while he was still laying in that hospital bed. A reminder for him to keep his eye on the road in the future.

I wanted to burn the man’s house down with everyone he loved inside it, and that was before I laid eyes on Henny. Once he was released, and I was forced to look at the damage for the first time, I didn’t know how to contain that urge. Henny wasn’t just my older brother, he was my rock, even if he didn’t know it.

Anytime I felt myself spiraling, or thought I couldn’t do something, I just looked at him and reminded myself that we came from the same damn place. If he could keep it together, surely, I could, too, right?

I wasn’t good at managing impulsivity, though. A dozen of my mother’s boyfriends had told me so, a few had tried to beat it into my head. I swigged and snorted at the memory of their wasted muscle.

What the fuck did they expect from a kid whose mother fancied herself a groupie? There were three of us, Hendrix, Lennox, and Presley.

I nearly choked on the next swig but forced it down as I shook my head and smiled. I loved her, but some of those men she chose had more musical talent than common sense. Especially where being a father or man was concerned.

My phone vibrated angrily in my pocket, and I glared down at it. The bottle I was clutching and balancing on my knee already had a little dent put in it. The light on the phone seemed unnecessarily bright, I was so busy grumbling about it, I almost missed the damn call.

I wasn’t particularly stressed over it. I knew Jessica’s number when I saw it. She was a ‘tried and true’ good time, but I wasn’t in the mood. I knew how she was, though, if I didn’t answer and tell her to fuck off, she’d blow me up all night.

I sniffed and groaned.

“Menace? Wake the fuck up.” Jessica excitedly hissed into the phone.

I jerked it away from my ear and squinted.

“I’m awake. What the fuck…?”

“He’s here.” She doubled down on her hissing and lowered her voice.

“Who?” I spat, already tired of the teenage games. She was twenty-one but fuck, was she annoying sometimes. I ran my thumb along the rim of the whiskey bottle and ground my teeth in preparation for more hissing.

“The prick who took your brother’s eye.”

My thumb stilled.

“Don’t fuck with me.” She had my full attention.

“I’m not fucking with you, baby.” She cooed, making me cringe.

“Where?”

“He’s sitting in your favorite seat. The one you keep warm when I bartend sometimes…”

I hung up on her and found my feet. My hands trembled, so I clutched the bottle tighter and swigged for liquid courage. I was going to need it for a steady hand if I wanted to succeed. A bullet would draw too much attention, I needed to be able to come up fast and slice deep enough to get it done right the first time.

I probably drank another quarter of the bottle before I parked. I kept my knife wrapped tight in my hand and let myself in the unmanned side door.

It was an Alton underground bar. No one kept the peace, and no one talked. Those were the rules.

I saw Jessica standing in the corner texting furiously. My pocket was vibrating away, leaving no question as to who she was bitching at. I’d been around the block enough times to know, when a woman texted that fast, she was good and pissed off.

I might have laughed if I wasn’t so focused on the bastard sitting in the seat I’d held down twice in my life. He was a cocky thing, with an energy about him that told me what he was, no introduction required.

He was a shooter. A soldier. His Irish accent suddenly split the air and he gave a hearty laugh before I hooked my arm around him and jerked the blade across his neck.

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