“Who the fuck are you workin’ for, Braxton.”

Arms crossed, I glare at my brother who is sitting in his hospital bed, attached to more tubes than I’d like, staring at me with a pale, sunken face and a body that is far too thin for his build. How the fuck did I get so wrapped up in my own life that I didn’t notice he was sinking so heavily? What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Fuckin’ no one, Dakoda. You need to back the fuck off. I had a big night, that’s all.”

“Do you forget who I am?” I bark. “You lie as fuckin’ well as I do. Which means, I know you’re feedin’ me bullshit, and I don’t appreciate it. One look at you tells anyone glancin’ that it wasn’t just one big night, it was many. You look like you’re walkin’ on the edge of death. So, I’ll ask again. Who the fuck are you workin’ for?”

“I said no one,” he growls, voice croaky and low. “I’ve been using, that’s it.”

“Not what your roommate told me.”

“Fuck him!” he yells, throwing a hand up. “Fuck him. He knows nothing. Neither do you. Just because you’re my twin doesn’t mean you get to come in here and think you can run my life. You fuckin’ can’t.”

Braxton and I have always been close. Always.

So why the fuck is he pushing me away?

I know drugs can cause these sudden mood swings, but it still isn’t like him to be so aggressive, which means whatever he’s into, it’s bad. It’s something he doesn’t want me involved in. It’s something he doesn’t want me to know. I don’t like that, not one fucking bit. And if he thinks I’m going to bail and not get him out of this, then he doesn’t know me at all.

But I think that’s the problem.

He does know me, and he knows I won’t back down.

“Say what you want. One way or another, I’ll be getting to the bottom of this, with or without your fuckin’ help, Braxton. You’re my brother, and you’re in trouble.”

“Will you fuck off!” he roars so loudly a nurse comes rushing in, her eyes wide.

“We’re in a hospital,” she hisses, then turns to me. “If you’re going to upset him, you need to leave.”

“I want him out,” Braxton says. “Get him out.”

The nurse studies me. “Sorry, but you’ll need to go.”

I look at Braxton, and I hold his eyes. “I will find out what the fuck you’re up to, Braxton, rest fuckin’ assured.”

Then I walk out of the hospital, chest rising and falling with angry pants. I reach my truck, swinging the door open so hard it reaches its peak and bounces back. I angrily shove it out of the way and get into the truck, starting it up and taking off. I drive in a rage straight to Braxton’s apartment, getting out and charging up to the front door.

I don’t knock.

I walk in.

Two bodies are going hard at it on the couch. A few moaned grunts can be heard. I walk straight past and into Braxton’s room. I glance around, cringing at the smell. Clearly nobody felt the need to clean the mess. I jerk his sheets off the bed and throw them on the floor, then I start looking around. I open drawers, cupboards, lift the mattress—I will find something.

I find his phone on the floor beside the bed, so I pick it up and shove it into my pocket, then I keep searching. I come up with a few bags of drugs and a few scribbled names on paper. I take it all. Then I scoop his sheets up and walk into the laundry room, shoving them into the machine and turning it on.

Then I get the fuck out of there.

The drive back to my apartment takes about twenty minutes, and the moment I arrive, I jump out of my truck and make short work of moving to the front door.

“Dakoda.”

Sighing, I turn around to see Trisha, a girl I’ve been fucking on and off, coming up my front path. Her ass sways from side to side as she walks. I keep her regular because she’s a good fuck and she has an incredible body. But that will end very quickly if she doesn’t fucking back off with the bullshit. Calling me all the time. Showing up whenever she wants to.

A big fucking no.

“Busy, Trish.”

She stops, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her tits together. “There’s no need to speak to me like that. You haven’t answered my calls.”

I inwardly growl. “Because. I’m. Fuckin’. Busy.”

She frowns, big lips pouting. “Why are you being so nasty? I’m only here to make you feel good.”

“Don’t feel like feelin’ good today, will call you tomorrow.”

I don’t give her a second glance as I turn and walk into my apartment. I’m not known for being the best man when it comes to women.

I fuck, and I leave.

End of story.

I don’t have time for anything else.

I flick on my lights in my apartment and ignore Trish’s pounding on the door as I flop down onto the couch and start going through Braxton’s phone.

One way or another, I’ll find who he is working for.

And I’ll end the motherfucker.

One way or another.