Page 2 of No Apologies
“Yeah.”
“Because I thought we were on the same page but if we ain’t then we’ll have to figure out some other terms and I’d hate to have to do that, ya know, you bein’ family and all.”
“Damn it, we’re on the same page. Stop talking down to me like I’m one of your fucking minions. I’m in, Link. Just tell me what the hell you need from me and then get the hell out of my shop.”
He snapped, his temper flaring at the condescending tone his cousin used. Lincoln wouldn’t have dared use that patronizing attitude on any of his brothers. They’d have knocked him into next week. Same with the rest of their cousins. He reserved his superior bullshit for Colt and Cash alone because they didn’t live up to the Bomar name in his opinion.
Only in their fucked up family could he and Cash be the black sheep for trying to live a normal life. For behaving within the confines of the law. For having legal jobs and working hard for their money. For trying to better themselves.
It was a decision they’d made a long time ago. To work, to keep their heads down and their hands clean of the family business. In all honesty, it was a decision Cash had made, not him. His twin had been the one to force the issue, the one that refused to bend to the will of their family members.
Cash was the idealist, the true believer in the good of the world and love conquering all and the bullshit that went along with it. Colt was far more skeptical. Maybe because he knew what it took to keep them clean, the price their practical life truly cost.
He was the one that had paid it. He was the one that was still paying for it. That was why Lincoln was standing in his tattoo studio right at that very moment spouting off about the debt Colt owed him and how he was expected to pay it off.
With blood.
Cash knew nothing of this part of his life. Colt had made sure of that. It was part of his deal with their cousin.
From the time they were children, he and Cash had been a team. They’d only survived their awful childhood because they had each other’s backs. Growing up hadn’t changed that. They took care of each other. So, Cash wanted to stay clean? Colt made it happen, even if that meant he dirtied his own hands on occasion.
It was a bargain he would make every single day of the week and twice on Sunday.
Protecting Cash was what he did. It’s who he was. When they were kids that had meant covering his twin’s mouth when he cried out in the middle of the night. It had meant stepping in front of a fist for him more times than he could count. And for the past five years it had meant keeping him in the dark about the shady deal he’d made to get them enough money to start their legal life.
Cash would probably kill him if he ever found out about it. God knew his twin had lost his damn mind the last time he’d found out one of the secrets Colt kept from him. But he’d managed to talk Cash past his anger and he knew he could do it again. If it ever came to it, if he ever had to tell his brother about this, Cash would forgive him.
He would have to. Cash would understand the need to protect and provide for the person that meant the world to you. Cash had Jemma now. He was settling down with the love of his life. He was deliriously happy now that he’d gone and gotten engaged and finding out he was going to be a father had only made his twin even more fierce than usual. So yeah, he thought Cash would understand.
But he hoped he never had to tell Cash about his deal with Lincoln. Ever. He wanted to finish paying off his debt and get clean without his twin ever finding out what he had done. It would be better for everyone that way.
In the past it hadn’t always been easy keeping this part of his life a secret from his brother but with Jemma hounding him all the time it had gotten much harder. She was always asking where he’d been and where he was going and watching him. For a guy that had never had anyone care about him enough to pay attention, it was kind of nice knowing Jemma worried about where he was and if he was getting into trouble. But at the same time, it was a royal pain in the ass avoiding his future sister-in-law whenever he came home black and blue from a fight.
He supposed he should just be glad that Cash had taken his girl out of town this week. They’d left this morning to visit Jemma’s dad on the rig site and tell him the news about becoming a grandfather in person. With the apartment to himself, it would make it easier to handle whatever Lincoln needed from him without having to lie.
“Did you just yell at me?” Lincoln only smirked at his outburst so he crossed his arms over his chest and remained silent, “You did. Good. I was beginning to worry you’d gone as soft as your twinkie.”
His jaw clenched, “Don’t talk about Cash or I’ll knock your teeth down your throat.”
Lincoln chuckled, “Yeah, you still got it if you’re threatening me.”
“Just tell me what the fuck you want this time, would ya?”
His cousin made a big show of leaning against the counter as if he was getting comfortable but Colt didn’t buy a second of the act. Lincoln never had to get comfy anywhere. He just was. Whether he’d been born with that kind of easy confidence or if he’d earned it by establishing himself as the leader of the Bomar clan, Colt might never know. The fact was a lot of the rumors about the Bomar’s and their prideful, white-trash swagger came directly from the one standing in front of him.
It was one of the few things Colt could admit he admired about his cousin. Like him, Lincoln didn’t shy away from what he was. He embraced it. And if you didn’t like that, didn’t like him, then he’d tell you to go to hell or deliver you there himself.
He was a guy whose bad side you didn’t want to be on so Colt cleared his throat and toned down his attitude, “What’s up Link?”
“There’s a fight tonight and I need you in the cage.”
Colt rolled his eyes, “That’s it? You want me to fight tonight? A fuckin’ phone call would’ve sufficed, don’t ya think?”
“Not this time, that’s what I was sayin’. We’re keepin’ it real quiet. No chatter on the lines. Invite only.”
A flicker of unease lit in his veins. Invite only meant they were keeping it to regulars, people they trusted, no outsiders. That the invites weren’t going out via phone or text meant they were untraceable. And the fact that he knew to worry about things like that was what made him a Bomar.
“Somebody get tapped?”
