Page 8 of The Bad Brother

“You said the guys dragged you to the cigar lounge,” I say, repeating what he just told me. “But you don’t smell like cigars.”

Setting his glass down, Ethan turns to me with a frown. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing.” Sitting back in my seat again, I shake my head. “I’m not getting at?—”

Before I stumble over another apology, the pager in my purse starts to buzz. Hearing it, Ethan sighs. “Seriously?” He says it under his breath, his frown deepening into a scowl. “You’d think that fucking place would fall apart without you.”

Embarrassed for some strange reason, I shake my head again while reaching for the Dior clutch I stashed under the table. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I reassure him quickly while opening my bag to pull out the still buzzing pager. “It’s probably the charge nursewanting?—”

Glancing at its screen, I see that it’s not a callback number. It’s a code and it’s not nothing.

CODE BLACK

It meansmass casualty event. Patients in route.

“I have to go.” Reaching under the table to retrieve my purse, I shove my phone and pager into it before I stand.

Giving me a resigned sigh, Ethan wipes his mouth with his napkin before looking up at me. “Not the charge nurse, I take it.”

“No.” I give him a quick, apologetic smile before dropping a hasty kiss on his cheek. “I’ll call you as soon as I can—I love you.”

“FAR AS WE CAN TELL, THERE WAS Ashort in the truck’s wiring,” Colt says before I have a chance to ask. Colt is Sera’s older brother and Cade’s twin. “Driver said he’d been fighting with it since Dallas.”

Still doesn’t explain why he didn’t see the bus—whose headlights were working just fine—or what he was doing driving a fifty-thousand-pound juggernaut with faulty wiring, in the dead of night.

Whatever the answers are, they’re none of my business. I already gave my statement to Colt, who also happens to be Barrett county sheriff. That’s all I can do.

“Thanks for letting us set up here,” he says, gesturing around the dusty parking lot. I had 911 dialed and was heading for the road before the crash even happened. By the time EMS was on scene, I had Cade and Austin pulled from the bar.

The three of us were pulling survivors from thewreckage and leading them over to the parking lot. Within the hour the Barrett Creek’s Ladies Auxiliary had a tent set up and were passing out blankets, water, and hot coffee to banged-up passengers while they waited their turn to get checked out by paramedics.

“It’s what Tank would’ve done.” That’s how I run this place. How I earn the right to call it mine. I do what the man who gave it to me would’ve done.

Colt makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. “Bus was headed back east,” he tells me, arms crossed over his chest while he watches his little sister wrap a sobbing child in her own flannel jacket. “Driver’s dead—killed instantly. So are the ten passengers that were struck at the point of impact. Truck driver’s a little banged-up but he’ll live.”

Jesus.

Swiping a rough hand over my face I let out a tired sigh. “How many survivors?”

“Sixty-three,” Colt says quietly. “Almost half of them were transported to Barrett County Memorial.”

If you’re going to have a catastrophic accident in a podunk, Texas town—Barrett is the place to do it. Thanks to our rich neighbors across the bridge, we have access to one of the best hospitals in the state and it’s equipped with a brand-new, state-of-the-art trauma center.

“Think any of them will make it?” It’s a morbid question but I ask it anyway.

“They’ve got a better than fair chance,” he says with a grim smile. “The trauma team is top notch and their head surgeon is one of the best in the country.” He goes quiet for a second before he speaks again. “These people don’t haveanywhere to go, Jensen. Bus company says its going to take time to get their buses rerouted so they can get one down here and get these people home,” he tells me quietly. “I reached out to Dave Gaston about putting them up for a night or two but you know how he is.”

Yeah—I know how Dave is. He owns the only motel in town and he’s a stingy old bastard. He’d sell his own mother for a shiny nickel.

“Call him again,” I say without thinking twice. “Tell him it’s paid for.” Colt stares at me for a few seconds like I just said the last thing he expected. No one knows exactly how much money I have but I just gave Colt a pretty fair idea. “Afterward, ask Cade to call the principal over at the elementary school and see if we can borrow a bus to get them over there—” Cade is the night janitor at Barrett Elementary, Sunday through Thursday. “and then take them both home.” Cade and Sera both have kids and their regular shift ended hours ago.

“Don’t worry about Gunner and Scarlet,” Colt tells me on a soft chuckle. “Mom’s got ‘em. They’ll wake up tomorrow to Saturday morning cartoons and bottomless chocolate chip pancakes.”

Hearing Colt talk about his mom reminds me of my own. Reminds me that my entire family is on the other side of the bridge, celebrating my brother’s engagement at their fancy country club like I don’t even exist.

Those people are not your family.

They wereneveryour family.

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