Page 35 of Lockout

Our mother had made him promise not to tell me. I understood why, now that I had the buffer of years to ease the anger. She’d wanted to avoid a fight between us, but it’d inadvertently driven a wedge. One that nearly ruined what was left of our family. He’d stood at the back of Daphne’s wedding and funeral, never stepping forward to be a part of the family, but he’d shown up for her. That was the only thing that had made me let him into my club when he’d shown up and asked to stay. His love for Daphne had been as deep as my own.

Now he was as much a part of my club as the rest. I was patching him and Static in tonight. It would be official, and I was at peace with the decision. We were building our relationship back up again, though it was slow going with the constant threats coming our way.

While my brothers had been trying to beat sense into me over the last two months, Idaho didn’t. He hadn’t joined in. No. Instead he was here now, in the way we used to talk about everything. Over a beer. The last time we’d done this was before Mom had died. Before our rift.

Reaching forward, I took a beer out of the cardboard holder and opened it. It was ice cold and I took a drink, appreciative of the flavor. We’d started this when we were fourteen years old. It hadn’t been hard to convince a local drunk to buy a six pack of beer for a couple of kids for a small amount of money. “What’s up?”

“That’s my question for you.”

I arched a brow at him. “You want to know what’s up with me?”

He nodded and took another pull from the bottle.

“Gonna have to be more specific.”

“I know shit’s about to go down with the LoS,” he said with a shrug. “We’ll deal with that as it comes. But the rest of it…”

“Don’t feel like talking about it,” I told him.

He shook his head. “You can keep burying your head in the sand, Liam, but-”

“Don’t,” I snapped at him. “We don’t drink and talk about women anymore.”

“Maybe we should.”

I studied his face. His expression was neutral. He was serious. I’d been trying to figure out how to continue mending shit between us. Was this really going to be what opened the door to communication between us? It could work, but I didn’t want to fucking talk about me and Keely. To anyone. I wasn’t fond of opening up and spilling all my fucking feelings onto the ground. People who didn’t know me well might think I didn’t have feelings. They’d be wrong. I had a lot of them. But I kept them locked away. Letting them out opened the door for anger. It was better to keep everything under control.

“I’m just trying to figure out why you think you don’t deserve what you want, Bro.”

My eyes narrowed. “What makes you say that?”

“Because if you were taking what you wanted, Keely would already be your old lady. You’d probably have a kid.” He tilted his head. “Probably working on a second. So…why aren’t you?”

My brother had Eva now. He might understand what it was like, having someone else that you needed to watch over. Whose safety and happiness was more important than your own. I had that, times twenty, thanks to the club. Though I wouldn’t change a damn thing, it was still a massive responsibility.

Understanding flickered in his eyes, without me saying a word. That was how it was between us. We understood each other. Even when I was pissed as hell at him, I always knewwhen he was in trouble. He probably knew the same for me. I never told him about the time I showed up in Idaho.

Never told him that I watched over him. That when trouble came to find him years back, I’d taken care of it before it ever reached him. That was long before his company was up and running. Not too long after Mom had died. It had been my first, non-government sanctioned, kill. The loan shark who’d been after Dad had tracked down Idaho because he’d tried to help our father. Not that I knew at the time that was why he’d been after my brother. All I knew was that some piece of shit was after him and even if I was furious with him, no one was going to touch him.

Idaho admitting what Mom’s dying request of him had been filled in a lot of blanks. But I found out that that loan shark, Catfish Willy—stupid fucking name—had sent some goons after Idaho. I figured he’d borrowed the capital to start up his business. Should have known better. My brother was too savvy of a businessman to do something stupid like that. Didn’t matter at the time.

I’d followed the men creeping around after my brother and killed them. Not before I’d gotten who they worked for, of course. They sang like canaries when I started torturing them. Catfish Willy wasn’t any harder to kill than his goons. And that was when I decided I needed to help people. Because the way I’d felt as I’d tracked the asshole trying to strong arm my brother was addictive. It was what I needed. Gave a purpose to my life. I’d passed that purpose to my club brothers, and now here we were.

“I’ve been busy,” I told Idaho.

“And by busy, you mean you’ve been looking out for everyone else.”

Fucker knew me too well.

“They’re good, Liam,” he said, motioning to the door with his bottle. “Settled. Happy. Don’t you think it’s your turn?”

Taking a drink of my beer, I didn’t answer because I wasn’t sure. Was it my time? Maybe. My brothers sure thought so and took every opportunity to tell me so. But I didn’t have everything figured out yet.

“You don’t have to have every second of the rest of your life planned out, for you to find a bit of happiness in the present,” he said, as if he was reading my mind.

“Quit fucking doing that,” I muttered.

He grinned. “Nailed it. Live in the fucking moment, Bro. Take what you want. It’s not like that girl doesn’t want you back.” I arched a brow and he shook his head. “You’d have to be blind not to see the way she looks at you. Or living with your head perpetually shoved up your ass.” He stood up. “Quit holding back. That’s what these guys have been trying to tell you with their fists for the last couple months. They’re good. It’s your damn turn. They want to see you happy, too.”

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