Vice (Tortured Heroes Book 1) (19 page)

She oohed and aahed against my ear as I teased her slick cleft with my thumb. She was hot, wet and practically dripping for me. I grew rock hard and pressed myself against her. She wriggled a little, spreading her legs until my hard-on rubbed straight against her clit. With the other hand, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a condom. I ripped it open with my teeth as Bridget nibbled at my ear.

“I’m covered, baby,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

Like hell, I thought. I took a step back and went for my fly. My jeans strained against my cock, and I was looking forward to freeing it. Bridget’s eyes were hooded as she waited for me. Her chest rose and fell with her heavy breaths as she stroked herself. Her smooth skin flushed rosy red as she got herself primed for me.

Then her eyes went wide, and a shadow fell over her face. She stood stock still and looked back at me. I started to pivot when a strong hand clamped on my shoulder pulling me back. I dropped the condom, drew my fist back then froze. Bridget screamed once.

“There’s two of you!” she cried out. “Holy shit.” Her screams turned into a frantic giggle.

I squinted my eyes against the glare of the sun. I looked into two blazing dark eyes that were a match to my own. The same jaw, the same thick black brows. The same cleft in his chin. The only thing different was the hair. His was cropped short and close to his ears. Mine was longer, touching my collar.

“I thought Rick was lying,” he said in a voice almost identical to my own. “I said, no way Colt would show his fucking face back here after all this time.”

“Good to see you too, Jase,” I said, having dual urges to hug him and slug him.

Bridget stepped between us and put a hand on my chest and a hand on Jase’s. Her fingers played across the M.C. patch over my left pec and the shiny cop badge over Jase’s.

“Twins? Oh wow! What’s say the three of us turn this into a
real
party,” she purred and licked her lips, swiveling her head from Jase to me and back again.

Jase grabbed her wrist and gently but firmly peeled Bridget off the two of us. “Go on home,” he said. “And trust me, sweetie, I just saved you from maybe the worst decision of your life.”

Bridget pouted and looked to me. I gave her a jerking gesture with my chin. She pulled her skirt back down, her top back up and thrust up the middle finger on both hands to each of us. I suppose it was the least we deserved.

As soon as she was out of sight, I turned back to my brother. He glared at me through those same dark eyes I saw in the mirror every day. I couldn’t help but smirk as he dropped his left hip. Same fucking move since we were kids. I dodged to the left as he threw a right hook. His punch glanced off my shoulder, and I dropped low, shooting straight for his midsection.

Damn. He was more solid than I remembered. We hit the slick pavement in a tangle of legs, flying punches, and curses. I landed one to his ribs. He landed one to my jaw.

Fuckin’ A.

I changed my mind. For me, nothing says welcome home like the taste of blood filling my mouth.

I landed on top and wedged my forearm under his chin, trying to choke him out. “You done Officer Fuck-Nut?”

Jase got another jab in just under my ribcage. I winced against the pain shooting across my back. Apparently, he wasn’t fucking done. He got a knee up before I could counter, and we were rolling end over end again. I hit my forehead hard on the curb before I pushed him off and scrambled to my feet. Spots swam in front of my eyes, and I felt a hot trickle of blood run down my cheek. I got low, ready for him to come at me or to take him down again.

He stood in front of me, heaving, sweat running down the side of his face. Blood and bile filled my mouth, and I spit it out onto the oil-stained pavement.

“I don’t know where you came from. I don’t know why you came back. But you need to get your sorry ass back on that bike and keep on riding.”

I straightened. Jase was still spitting mad, but he didn’t look like he was going to charge me again. I didn’t drop my fists, but maybe we’d be able to have some form of a real conversation before we tried to break each other’s faces again. The side of Jase’s face was already starting to swell. His knuckles were scraped and bloody.

“I’m not here to start anything. Nothing wrong with wanting a quick drink and an easy piece of ass. Last time I checked, Lincolnshire was crawling with opportunities for both.”

Jase narrowed his eyes and shook his head. His badge. It still threw me. Jase Reddick, my brother. Lou Reddick’s son. In a uniform. Fuck me. Even though the cut above my eye was starting to throb like a son of a bitch, I still wanted to reach out and hug my brother. It had been too long. Way too long.

“What the hell are
you
crawling with?” he said. “Rick doesn’t need shit like you around here. He’s paid up. You’re not welcome.”

What the hell was he talking about? “Jesus, Jase. I’m not here about Ricky. Walk your shit off. I gotta tell ya. Even though you’re acting like a fucking lunatic, I’m glad to see you.”

Jase shook his head. “Fuck you, Colt. Your club has done enough damage to this town. I’m not going to stand by and watch you be a part of it. Go back west.”

I dropped my fists to my sides. I wished I could tell him he had it all wrong. But I hadn’t seen him in almost ten years. The last time I came back to town I did it to help him bury our parents. My drunk-ass father ran his car into an embankment and killed himself and our mother along with him. Jase had just gone into the police academy. So much had happened since then. And just like I didn’t know everything about Jase for the last ten years, he didn’t know everything about me. The stone-cold look in his eyes told me he thought he knew enough.

“Fine,” I said. My heart sank as I looked into my brother’s eyes. The lines around his eyes gave him a more hardened look. I knew damn well he saw the same in mine. Something flickered behind his and I hoped for a second he had the same urge to drop all of this shit and reach out to me. But his eyes stayed hard and a knife twisted in my gut.

Even though I had nowhere else to go really, maybe coming back to Lincolnshire had been my worst idea yet. Clearly Jase thought so. We had our differences, but I sure as hell didn’t want my being here to hurt him.

“Have it your way. I’m here on business. It’ll take me a few days, and then I’ll head east. Jesus, nobody but you and Ricky even know I’m in town yet.”

Jase shook his head and finally dropped his fists. “You’re still such a fucker. That was a full bar in there. You think the whole town doesn’t know you’re back? If you were trying to be clandestine, it was too late for you to turn back the second you passed the Home of the Shamrocks sign on I-75.”

I took a step toward him. He widened his stance. I couldn’t help but smirk. If I wanted to go at him, he’d already be down on the ground. “What the fuck do you want, Jase? You wanna keep going? Try to get in another sucker punch? We’re not kids anymore. It’s getting old. I’m tired of it. You wanna lecture me? I’m tired of that too. Believe whatever you want, but as much as I kinda wanna keep bashing your face in, I’m also pretty glad to see you. It’s been too long. I’m tired and not nearly drunk enough for this. I just wanna find a place to crash. You gonna make that a problem for me?”

Jase shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Colt. Just like you always have.”

I put a hand to my temple. My fingers came away sticky with fresh blood. My head started to pound. I wiped the blood on my jeans. Shit. I walked to the window on the side of the bar. The reflection was blurry but even so, I could see one ugly fucking gash running right across my right eyebrow. I could barely see from the blood running down.

Jase leaned back against the brick wall and shook his head. He rested his hand on the handle of his holstered service weapon. “You need stitches, dipshit.”

I took a chance. Jase’s temper seemed to have quieted. I stepped forward and put an arm around him, pulling him to my side. “I’m sorry,” I said, slapping him on the back. “I’ll just head on over to the E.R. and get fixed up.”

“I’m not letting you drive, dickhead.”

I laughed. “You gonna give me a ride in your fancy patrol car?”

“Just, come on.”

Jase muttered a few other things as we walked through the alley and down the street where he’d parked. His patrol car
was
fancy. At least for the Lincolnshire P.D. He hit the door lock and motioned to the passenger side. I thought about cracking a joke about how I usually rode in the back, but things were a little easier between us and I didn’t want to risk pissing on it.

Jase slid into the driver’s side as I slid into the passenger seat. He let out a sigh as he gripped the wheel just before he turned the engine. He looked at me. “Son of a bitch, Colt.”

I put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle shove. “It’s good to see you, man.”

Jase closed his eyes and exhaled. “Yeah. You too.”

* * *

A
my

I knew fifth-grader Trevor Meaney was about to go thermonuclear the minute he pulled the pencil package out of his backpack just after the eight o’clock bell. His mother must have packed the wrong kind by mistake: he liked mechanicals. When I remembered this later, I’d always blame number-2 pencils for starting the chain reaction that would upend my entire life.

Trevor dropped the pack of pencils to the ground as if they were on fire. I had a choice to make in a split second. I hesitated too long, and it was as if I’d cut the proverbial red wire.
Tick. Tick. Boom!
Trevor Meaney bolted from his desk, crashed out into the hall, and flung himself against a row of metal lockers. They were the double-decker kind with a door for coats on the bottom and a square shelf on top for books. He hit one so hard one of the top doors popped open, grazing his head. Trevor slid to the ground hugging his knees in front of him and started to rock.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath as I ran out after him, leaving the rest of my class staring after me with gaping mouths.

“Trevor,” I said in as even a tone as I could muster. “Honey. It’s okay. I have some mechanical pencils in my desk. You just need to give me a minute to find them. Can we count to ten?”

Trevor was beyond the ten count. He stared red menace at me and opened his jaw so wide I wondered if he’d actually unhinged it. I got my hands up over my ears just in time to muffle the worst of the shriek that came out of young Trevor’s mouth. He rose up to his feet, his fists balled at his side, and flung himself backward against the lockers. The top door swung out and back again, threatening to smack him.

Double shit
, I thought. I knew what was coming next. His body went rigid, then he flung himself backward again letting his head carve a dent in the army-green locker door behind him. If I didn’t get a hold of him, Trevor was liable to give himself a concussion.

But I was ready. Before Trevor could rear backward again, I grabbed him in a bear hug, pressing his arms to his side. I dropped to the floor, thankful that I still outweighed his seventy-pound frame by a good thirty pounds though I was only an inch or two taller. I’d need every ounce to press home my advantage. I splayed my feet out in front of me bringing Trevor between them. With my arms wrapped around him, I made myself into a sort of human cage as he tried to batter himself against me. I held him close enough that he couldn’t get the leverage. I just hunkered down and held on. I knew Trevor’s tantrums were fast and furious, and I was betting on fast this morning.

I pressed my forehead against Trevor’s neck and held on for dear life. “Shh,” I whispered, praying I could hold out longer than Trevor. “It’s cool, Buddy. We’ll work it out.” Trevor was hissing through gritted teeth, and his body was still rigid. I felt him tense at his core as he tried to rear back again. I’d locked my forearms in front of me, and although the back of his head made contact with my shoulder, he couldn’t do much damage as long as I was able to hold on.

By this time, half of my fourth-hour resource room class had ventured into the hallway to stare. “Hey, guys,” I called out, trying to make my voice as bright as possible. “Can I get maybe one of you to run down and get Principal Palmer or the school nurse for me?”

Three of Trevor’s classmates ran off down the hall. I hoped like hell I could get Trevor to calm down before Palmer made it. I needed the backup but didn’t want to turn this into a bigger deal than it needed to be. The last five minutes notwithstanding, eight weeks into the school year, Trevor Meaney was starting to come out of his shell.

“Miss Wyler!” Larry Barth, the gym teacher, called out. He ran down the hallway in my direction with his keys and pot belly jangling and his sneakers squeaking against the floor. It was an unfortunate name to have in an elementary school as most of the student body and half the faculty called him Mr. Barf behind his back.

“Whoa there,” Larry Barf-Barth called out. He dropped down to a squat right in front of poor Trevor but had the good sense not to touch him. Trevor’s end of the spectrum made him prone to serious issues with sensory overload and the fact he was more or less tolerating me was nothing short of a miracle.