Page 4 of Brother In Arms

It was warm, the sun beaming down on us and I don’t care what you say, when you’re in that much black leather and the temp is in the seventies, you start sweating like a motherfucker. Air movement didn’t do you a whole lot of good. I unzipped about fifteen minutes into the ride which helped some, but I was still hungover and dehydrated as fuck so by the time we reached the place where Dray’s cousin was supposedly at, I couldn’t care less that it was some kind of horse farm so long as the southern hospitality thing rang true and there was something cold to drink at the end of the long, hot ride.

The Jag pulled up in front of this natural wood clapboard ranch-style house with an attached barn. The barn was smaller than the place’s actual barn which was across the drive from the house and I wondered why in the fuck anyone would want to have a barn attached to the house like that… then it hit me, foals… it would certainly cut down on travel time to and from the main barn.

The wood on the outside of the house and connected barn wasn’t local. I’d been here long enough to recognize that. A rich bright wood with a reddish tint, I’d guess cedar without getting up close to it. It was mighty fine workmanship on the outside of the place, the trim around the doors and windows painted a sage green that kept everything looking earthy and natural to a layman’s eye. It’d look more natural to me if the clapboards were hand hewn rather than machined, but that was a personal preference and machining was faster, easier and more cost effective. Not that it looked like cost effective ever entered these happy bastards’ minds.

The place stank of a rich so high I was immediately uncomfortable, that is, until I saw the help, then I almost felt like I was back in AZ for a minute. Mostly Mexicans, these were dudes that knew their way around horses and hard work. I could respect that. I’d worked a couple of dude ranches back in Arizona, so I knew the life. Maybe that was one of the reasons I was here. I still didn’t know, Dray hadn’t had a chance to tell me and I was okay with that. I wished I’d known they’d had horse farms and the like out here, I probably would have applied. Working the garage wasn’t my favorite thing to do for work.

We backed the bikes in front of the ranch house, to one side of the porch steps. The driveway was crushed gray gravel that gave up puffs of fine dirt with just about every movement. I grimaced inwardly at the mess it was going to make of the bikes. It was a tossup when it came to what I hated worse, taking time away from my woodshop, or having a dirty bike. The wheels won by virtue of the respect they deserved for giving me such fucking freedom when it came to living such a shitty life.

Before the club, I had no place, no purpose other than making sure my twin and I made it to our eighteenth birthdays. Once we hit that milestone, once we aged out of the system, we were both cut loose and cast adrift. It was Grind and Arch back to the rescue giving Nox and me a life again by introducing us to club life.

Even so, living the club life in Arizona was trouble enough, not that I minded. We were sticking it to the man running guns south across the border. My foster brothers and me, we stayed the fuck out of the coke trade but guns we had no problem with. In fact, I had one of my best friends tucked into the back of my waistband beneath my jacket and cut in a snug little inner pants holster. I never left home without it, fuck the fact that I could be up on charges for having a felony assault on my record and carrying.

Dray cut the engine to his bike and I followed suit, immediately going for the chinstrap on my helmet even as his aunt ascended the ranch house’s steps beside us. I exchanged a look with my VP and he scowled. Not at me, but the situation. I could tell he wanted to tell me more about what was up, but I could also tell now wasn’t the time. He was still figuring shit out too, although he was still leaps and bounds ahead of my ass which was square in the dark. This seemed to be the kind of thing that required that perfect trust between brothers. It was something we didn’t always have back in Arizona, Dom liked to play it fast and loose and it was one of the things that had encouraged the rest of us to consider following Grind. His dying just sealed the fuckin’ deal.

We, and by ‘we’ I meant Archer and me, had been getting tired of living dangerously. It wears on a man after a time, and it wore on us that we weren’t really fighting for anything worthwhile. There were other ways of making money. Not the fuckin’ loads of it we were swimmin’ in by running guns, mind you… You pretty much had to work twice or even three times as hard when it was honest, but the cuts from the gun running were getting slimmer and slimmer while Dom’s wallet had been getting fatter. When you’re taking on more of the risk for less of the reward… yeah.

I should have done what my twin did from the beginning, kept at an honest living and kept out of the game, but fuck, honest livings were hard as fuck to come by with a felony record. Gun runnin’ had been, for the most part, easy. Stressful with lookin’ over your shoulder every two seconds, but easy.

Dray and I got up after divesting of what gear we could to beat the heat, leaving our jackets laying across the saddles of our machines, our helmets hanging off the handlebars with our sweat soaked bandanas in the overturned bowls of them. I propped my sunglasses on the top of my head and looked to Dray to see if he might have any more explanation for me. He gave his a shake of his head and I nodded, content to ride it out for now and seeing why he was reluctant to start talking when his aunt stepped back out of the front of the house alone, but holding a tray with a full pitcher and glasses on it.

“Come up here, Draven. You and your… friend. Sit for a moment, while I have Renaldo find your cousin.” The way she said ‘friend’ dripped with a familiar disdain that the upper class had for us perceived losers and denigrates.

Dray nodded but didn’t look happy about it and I didn’t blame him one bit. I already didn’t like the bitch and the look on my brother’s face spurred me into a bit of action, I bit out “Just what exactly are we doin’ here, lady?”

Dray’s aunt looked up from where she poured tall glasses of iced tea, a little bit startled. She was careful not to over pour and handing Dray a glass said, “No, I suppose you can’t talk much with how loud those vulgar machines are, can you?”

“Trudy…” Dray grated out, “You better check your fuckin’ prejudice at the door or do I seriously have to already remind you already that you came to us for help?”

Trudy blinked in surprise and was clearly taken aback, yet still all she had to say for her bigoted ass was “Language, Draven!”

“It’s Dray, and the only reason I’m sittin’ here through your blatant disrespect is because you happen to be my dead momma’s sister. Don’t you ever forget that I fuckin’ hate you for what you did when she died! I hate you so deep, I wouldn’t piss on you to put you out if you were on fucking fire. Only reason I’m here is for Bales, now answer the man’s question. Why the fuck are we here?”

She sank into her seat, after handing me a glass of tea and I inclined my head with a polite “Thank you, ma’am.” I watched the guilt flicker through her deep brown eyes like I knew it would. It always chapped their fuckin’ asses when the likes of one of us showed more decorum than they did. Usually it put them into a more cooperative frame before we had to do something nasty… sometimes but not always.

She licked her lips and said, “As I told my nephew and his father, my Richard died around three or four months ago. He left this place to the three of us, myself, my son, and my daughter.” I took a sip of my tea, watching my VP smolder across the table from me.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said automatically and she smiled a bit ruefully, bowing her head to regain her composure. So her rich husband’s death had actually cut pretty deep. I couldn’t decide if she started out with money or if she’d been a gold digger who’d eventually fallen in love but the end result was etched into every line of her face, she had loved him and hardcore.

Interesting…

“Yes, well, I sold my portion of this place to my daughter, Bailey. It took everything she had to purchase it from me, but I can’t be bothered, not with how vast my husband’s holdings were and Bailey has loved this place ever since she was a child and out of all of us, could make the most of it.”

“So what’s the problem, then?”

“Philip, my son, has gotten heavily into real estate and development. A developer has purchased several of the neighboring farms and Philip is furious that Bailey, as two-third’s owner of Blue Hills Farm, won’t sell.”

She looked out over the green pastures and sighed heavily, pursing her lips, “He’s just like his father,” she said flatly. “I loved Richard, in the beginning, precisely for that part of himself, but Philip? Unlike his father, he just doesn’t know when to let go. He’d be willing to tear what is left of this family apart over this, and I just don’t understand it.”

Dray snorted and stared his aunt down, “Just like his mom,” he said coldly and I cringed inwardly. Our VP had a knack for saying shit that cut deeper than deep with as few words as possible and I could tell he scored a hit, his aunt’s brown eyes going wider than wide as she tried to stammer out a defense.

Dray just stared her down and wasn’t buying any of it, and Trudy, apparently, had learned somewhere along the way where to quit, because she didn’t say anything more, just resolutely shut her mouth.

“What else did Uncle Ritchie-rich do?” Dray demanded and Trudy’s nostril’s flared, her eyes glassing over with unshed tears.

I didn’t say anything, even though that look on a woman just about always hit me right in the feels. Mostly I kept my mouth shut because I didn’t fully know or understand their family dynamic. I could tell whatever was there that the wounds ran deep and they didn’t need me picking at the scabs, so I just waited them both out. The tension at the little porch table was thick enough Reaver would have a field day carving it up, but finally, Trudy cut to the chase.

“I’m afraid for my daughter, afraid enough that I went to José for help… I realize I haven’t been good family to you, Draven; but please, don’t hold that against your cousin.”

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