The diner was packed with fellow cops and the only spot available was near the door. It was too exposed and I didn’t want to sit there, but my stomach was growling, so I relented and slid into the booth. The waitress hurried over and I ordered the burgers and coffee. The tension that was sitting in my neck was so tight that pain shot up the back of my head in agonizing waves when I reached for the steaming mug she held out to me. The only time that I had felt any measure of peace, felt any kind of relaxation or mindless oblivion, was when Reeve had done exactly what she had threatened to do and taken care of me. I wasn’t the kind of guy that got naked and down and dirty in a strip-club bathroom, but it was the only time in recent memory I had been able to let go of everything else I hauled around all the time. There was no Bax. There was no Point. There was no Roark. There was no job that was slowly wearing me down and turning me into a hollow shell of a man. There was just a beautiful woman with dark blue eyes that had everything that made my life and dick hard inside of them and the amazing things she was doing to me. I shouldn’t want her, but I did, and the level that want was growing to was really starting to get bigger than me and any reservations I might have had.
I made small talk with a couple of patrol cops that stopped by my table to ask about the shootout at the club. In particular they wanted to know how “Honor” was doing. Keelyn had a place in the hearts of many single and lonely guys in the city, so I told them she was doing okay. She had taken a bullet to the chest and another one had caught her in the shoulder and lodged in the bone. She was a mess and she had lost way too much blood and required surgery, but she was awake now and she was pissed off. According to Nassir, who was blowing up my phone demanding any information I had on Roark, she had quit and told him she was leaving the Point. Nassir seemed to think she was just blowing smoke, but I wasn’t so sure. Keelyn had been in the gutter since the beginning. I wouldn’t blame her if she was ready for some new scenery, and I saw the way Nassir had freaked out when he caught sight of her bleeding on the floor. She might have been able to stay out of his clutches so far, but eventually he would wear her down. That would mean she was going to be stuck here in this place, with him, forever. I recognized the way he looked at her. He wanted to possess her.
The waitress dropped the food in front of me just as I heard the roar of Bax’s Hemi ’Cuda coming from blocks away. That car was a beast. It was louder, faster, and meaner than mine. I totally had motor envy. My little brother was a magician when it came to old muscle cars. What he could do to them was art. The patrol cops nodded in appreciation and got shiny eyes of envy when I mentioned it was Bax’s ride making all that noise. It was ingrained in male DNA to get a little bit of a hard-on when a car sounded as powerful and badass as the Hemi did. The GTO was prime but I wouldn’t put it up against Bax’s ride because my ego couldn’t handle getting shown up.
I was spewing facts about horsepower and torque when one of the guys made a strange face and pointed out the window. My heart immediately stopped because the last time someone did that in this diner Race’s car was on fire in the parking lot. Another unforgettable calling card from Roark.
“What?”
“I dunno. A garbage truck just went flying up the street. It’s not trash day in this part of town and it looked like it was in a hurry.”
I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. My ears were ringing as I scrambled out of the booth and pushed past both the uniformed cops who were standing by the entrance. I hit the door just as the sound of tires squealing and the screech of metal on metal drowned out every other sound and made my ears ring. Several of the other diner patrons had followed me out, but I was oblivious to everything but my brother’s car, which was crumpled in an unrecognizable heap under the heavy front end of a massive garbage truck.
I heard screaming and the sound of people calling for help, but I didn’t realize it was me until my hands hit the metal as I tried to pull the collapsed driver’s-side door open to get to Bax.
“Shane!” I was pulling and pulling but the metal wasn’t moving and neither was Bax. He was folded over, his shaved head resting on the twisted steering wheel. Blood was streaming all across his face and out of the ear that was turned my way. It didn’t look like he was breathing, and I was about to shove my fist through the still-intact window when a set of hands clasped around me and tried to pull me back. The skin on the palms of my hands ripped away and my own blood left gory tracks on the metal as I continued to scream Bax’s name, desperate for any kind of response, any sign of life or movement.
I turned around and without a second thought swung at the cop that was trying to pull me back. “That’s my brother in there!”
My little brother in a car that looked like a tuna can.
My little brother who was bleeding way too much and not moving.
My little brother who had survived every single shitty thing life had thrown at him and had finally found some good in his life.
My little brother who was finally recognizing that he had people that cared about him, so he needed to care about himself.
I would move the garbage truck with my bare hands if I had to.
“Detective, the first responders have the Jaws of Life. We’re gonna need to cut him out.”