I couldn’t hold my brother’s eyes and recall the memory at the same time, so I looked at my hands. “It was hard on all of us, watching her like that.”
We’d all watched her suffer—for a time—because it was her will. It was her choice. We watched her suffer until the pain threatened to swallow her whole. She was so stubborn. She didn’t want to dull a single moment for us. She worried the medication would change her, diminish the remainder of the time we had together.
And I understood that.
I really did.
But she needed those meds.
“So why? Why do you think you could do it when the rest of us couldn’t?”
“I guess . . . it’s what you said.” I picked a loose thread at the knee of my jeans.
“What’s that?”
“She was setting herself on fire to keep us warm,” I lifted my eyes back to my brother, comprehension eclipsing his earlier curiosity, “And I couldn’t let her do that anymore.”
Duane’s brow cleared as he stared at me, and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then stiffened, turning his attention back out his window. I heard the rumble of approaching motorcycles at the same moment.
“They’re here,” I said unnecessarily, the ball in my stomach curdling.
“I see only two bikes.”
“Yeah, I told Drill no backup.”
“Does he know I’ll be here?” Duane unlocked his door.
“Yep.”
My brother’s eyes cut to mine. “You trust him?”
“He seems like a decent fella.” I shrugged.
“He’s one of them.”
“I know that, Duane. But not all those guys are evil bastards—like Razor, like our daddy—some of them are just regular guys who are lost, looking for a place to go.”
He was shaking his head before I finished speaking, popping open his door. “You might not have been Bethany’s kid biologically, but you sure did inherit her soft heart.”
He didn’t say this like it was a bad thing or a good thing, but rather something that mystified him; like giving folks the benefit of the doubt went against his nature.
“Come on.” Duane indicated with his head toward where Drill and Christine were dismounting their bikes some twenty feet beyond the hood of his car. “Let’s get this over with.”
Drawing in a bracing breath, I exited the Road Runner and walked around to the hood.
My twin had left his headlights on and so had they, basking our foursome in pale light. I loitered at the hood of the car while Duane stopped a few feet away as Drill and Christine approached. But then Christine held her hand up to Drill, saying something we couldn’t hear, and he nodded. The big guy fell back and she continued forward without him.
Studying her now, maybe for the first time with any interest, I saw she was a pretty woman. She lacked a hardness that I’d seen in others who’d lived and breathed the lifestyle. Yeah, she was decked out in leather from head to toe, but all the lines on her face looked like laugh lines.
Her gaze moved between us and then rested on mine as a soft smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “Hey, baby.”
Duane made a quiet grunting noise in the back of his throat—like a growl and a sigh at the same time—a sign that he was already irritated.
I nodded my head once, but made no move to touch her. “Christine.”
“You didn’t need to bring reinforcements.” Her smile grew, her tone teasing.
“I have questions,” Duane announced, his tone flat.
Christine stuck her hands in the back pockets of her leather pants, giving Duane a mock-serious look, like she was making fun of him. “Fine, baby. Ask your questions.”
Duane’s eyes darted to mine, and then away. “How do you know we’re not Razor’s kids?”
Her eyebrows bounced high on her forehead. “Getting right down to business?”
“Yep.”
“Fine,” she moved her eyes to some point behind us and they grew unfocused, “My old man was up in Memphis at the time I got pregnant with you boys, and for a year after that.” By Memphis, she meant The Federal Correctional Institution in Memphis. “Darrell was in charge while Razor was gone, and that meant he saw to my needs until my man was released.”
Usually, at this point, I’d be trying to disguise the disgust behind a polite smile. But not this time. This time we were both bad cop and I could let my grimace of revulsion show.
“You know, Razor shares everything with your daddy,” she sounded almost whimsical. “He loves him like a brother. It’s a beautiful thing.”
Gag.
“He shares everything? Even you?” Duane lifted an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Even me.” She gave us a sly smile that made me want to throw up. Unfortunately, she wasn’t finished. “Razor has only shared me with one man, and that’s because he knows your daddy’s worth. Y’all would do well to treat Darrell with the respect he deserves.”
Yeah. . . I’m probably going to throw up.
“Who else knows?” I leaned against the hood of the Road Runner, crossing my feet at my ankles and hoping we could move away from the sharing portion of this discussion.
“Knows?” She turned her attention to me, her wide blue eyes looking pale grey.
“That you’re our biological parent, who knows?”
“Drill here knows,” she tossed a thumb over her shoulder, “I told him so he’d understand why I needed his help. Repo knows. He took me to Texas, kept me in a safe house while I was pregnant, until your momm—that is, until Bethany came for you boys.”
“What about Razor?” Duane scratched his chin.
Christine seemed to stiffen, but her easy expression didn’t budge. “He doesn’t need to know.”
I glanced at Duane, wondered what he was thinking.
My brother nodded slowly. “So, you had Darrell’s sons, but Razor doesn’t know?”
She shrugged, widening her smile. “He’s a busy man, with lots of important things on his mind. My job is to keep him happy.”
“And you having babies with Darrell wouldn’t make him happy?”
Christine didn’t answer, but her easy-going expression was now edged with irritation.
“I don’t get it,” I shook my head at her, allowing my confusion to show. “Why have us at all if you were just going to give us up for adoption to Darrell’s wife?”
“Your daddy knew what he was doing.” She said this with admiration. “I trust him to look after things.”
Duane and I shared a glance.
“What does that mean?” My twin folded his arms, tilting his head to the side.
“It means, he was looking out for your best interests.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.” Duane sighed. “He didn’t want us raised in the club?”
“Oh no, it wasn’t that. Y’all, all you boys, and Ashley too, you were all supposed to be raised right.”
By ‘raised right’ I assumed she meant we were supposed to be raised as future recruits for the Iron Wraiths, and Ashley as a . . . old lady?
“He’s not stupid. Darrell knew how much money that Bethany Oliver was worth.” She gave me a soft smile. “He wanted you to have your fair share.”
“Fair share?” Duane’s frown was severe. “You mean, he wanted us to have a claim on her money?”
“Of course,” she grinned, like this was obvious.