The first thing I noticed when I stopped just in front of the porch steps was the blood dripping from the soles of his shoes that were hanging out the door. The second thing I noticed were the dark, tattered jeans. I recognized the shoes, but the jeans sealed it. I knew without a doubt it was Luke.
The bag I’d been carrying fell to the ground, and I couldn’t move.
He was dead.
“Bri!”
I woke with a gasp, then saw a shadow of a large man standing above me and froze. It was him. He’d come back for me. Blind fury kicked in, and I launched at the shadow as I let out a blood-curdling scream. “No!”
The shadow ducked and shoved me back onto the bed. He pinned my arms to my sides and got in my face. I saw his lips move, but couldn’t hear what he was saying in my panic.
He couldn’t be back. He couldn’t. I kept trying to hit him, but he was holding me down.
Braden was yelling, pulling me out of my dream. His voice wafted back and forth. “Bri…Stop...me…”
“What’s wrong with her?”
He looked to whoever had spoken from the doorway, but I couldn’t see. It wasn’t a voice I recognized. He scowled at them. “I told you to wait outside.”
“I need to use the bathroom. You wouldn’t let me use the one at the bar, remember?”
“Shit. Yeah, go and use hers.”
I was still gasping for air, but saw a girl disappear toward the hallway. I heard a door close a second later. When Braden realized I had stopped fighting, he released my arms and stood back. “Holy crap. What was that?”
I shook my head and shoved him aside. Then I sat on the edge of the bed and put my head between my knees. Deep breaths in and out. I hadn’t thought about that day for so long.
“When did you start having nightmares again?”
The toilet flushed from my bathroom. I held out an arm, pointing at the hallway. “Who was that? And what the hell happened to Kelly?”
My brother visibly grimaced and bit his lip before running a hand through his hair. “Uh. Her name’s Crissy.” The bathroom door opened and he raised his voice towards the hallway, “You can head to the kitchen. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I smacked him in the stomach. “And I repeat, what about Kelly, and why is that girl using my bathroom?”
“Uh.” He cursed under his breath and sat beside me on the bed. “Come on, Bri. I’m not exclusive with anyone. I like Kelly, I do, but I don’t want a relationship.”
I heard his condescending tone and glared. I shot back, “What’s wrong with a relationship? You could do with some maturing.”
He gave me a ‘duh’ look. “I’m in a band.”
“So?”
“So. I’m. In. A. Band.” He shook his head. “Come on. For real. You don’t get that?” His shoulders rolled back, and a cocky expression flashed over his face. “I’m hot shit. Why would I want to get a ball-n-chain?”
I stared at him, waited ten seconds, and then smacked him on the back of his head.
“Ow.” His hand moved to where I hit him, and he cradled it. “What was that about?”
“I’m going to have to apologize to my future boss because my brother’s a man-whore douche nozzle. That’s what that was about.”
“Your future boss?”
“Kelly offered me a job.”
His eyes got big. “No way. You can’t. Em and Luke said they okayed you to join the band.”
“No.” I shook my head. A big yawn came over me, and I reached for my phone. “Braden, why are you in my apartment at three in the morning? I’m tired. Leave me alone.” Nudging him off the bed, I pointed to the door and yawned again. “Go. Leave. Take your Kelly-replacement-because-you’re-afraid-of-commitment girl with you.”
“Oh.” His cheeks puffed out, and he raked a hand through his hair. “You’re going to hate me, like really hate me.”
Why did I get a sudden doom and gloom feeling after hearing those words? Ignoring my gut, which told me to push him out the door and lock it, I folded my arms across my chest. Dear Lord. I would probably need His help by the end of the night, judging from the sudden nervous look on my brother’s face.
His laugh moved up an octave, and he shifted, his hands going behind his back. “Uh, I need your help.”
“That’s established. The ‘with what’ is not.”
He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Bri. Don’t be snippy.”
I lifted an eyebrow. I was waiting.
“Okay, okay. Paul called me. You know Paul?”
“From Shifter?” I named another local band.
“Yeah. He said Emerson’s at his party, and he’s in bad shape. He wants us to come and get him out of there.”
I sighed. Goddamn, Emerson. “Yeah,” I mumbled as I started to look around for a sweatshirt. I’d need to put on jeans, too. “Is he drunk or high? I need to know what to prepare myself for.”
“He’s drunk.”
I heard the hesitation in my brother’s voice and looked up, fixing him with a stare.
He shrugged. “And high.”
“All right.” I shooed him out of the room. “Get lost. I need to change.”
“You’ll come?”
“Yes.” Ducking my head, I pulled a sweatshirt on and grabbed a new pair of jeans. These were faded and ripped, like all my others. It was my trademark look. “Get out before I change my mind.” As he did, I grabbed my shoes. With Emerson, who knew what situation would happen. Having to run away or chase someone down was realistic for us. It’d been like this all our childhood. Emerson did something or said something, and the rest of us had to fight for him. I didn’t know why Elijah hadn’t been called, and I didn’t want to ask Braden either. He’d scowl and say this is family business. When I was ready to go, I headed for the kitchen and found Braden waiting with his girl.
She had long black hair that fell to the middle of her back with white streaks running through it. Her jeans were like mine, and she was wearing a black tank top. Her boobs were pushed up to high heaven, and her lips were plump. We didn’t run in a wealthy crowd, and this girl didn’t look like she had money for Botox, but I was pretty sure she had way too much injected into her face. She would’ve been pretty if she had gone with a natural look— less makeup, less Botox, less cleavage, and less white streaks, but I didn’t say a word. I never mixed well with ninety-eight percent of other females.
“We ready to go?” I asked, grabbing my keys.
“Hi, I’m—” Crissy held her hand out, but Braden stepped in front of her.
He pushed her arm down and nodded to me, saying, “Yep. We’re all good.”
Ignoring the puzzled look she gave him, I swept past them and headed for Braden’s truck and took shotgun. When Braden and the girl realized what I was doing, he started laughing. The girl paused. A soft “Hey,” left her, but Braden hushed her before going to the driver’s side. She had no choice but to take the backseat. When she got inside, I waited, but she was quiet. Good. No fight there, but then I saw another one coming.
Braden started the car and pulled across the road…right into Luke’s driveway.
“What the hell?” I sat forward in my seat.
“What?”
My brother’s tone was too innocent. My eyes narrowed. “Stop with the bullshit. Luke?”
“This is what we do. This is our crew.”
Frustration like no other rose within me. This had been our crew. Emerson got in trouble. Braden, Luke, and I went to help him, and after dating Elijah, I knew he got called quite a bit, too. This wasn’t our crew anymore, but it didn’t matter what I said. Luke was leaving his house, and he braked when he saw who else was in the car.
His mouth tightened, but then he went to the other backseat door.
So he hadn’t known either.
I hissed to Braden as the door was opening, “We need to talk about how things have changed from three years ago to now.”
He rolled his eyes. “Get over it. We need all the help we can get. Paul said some other guys were at the party—guys he didn’t know. He asked Emerson about them, but Em was adamant that he needed to leave them alone.” When Luke shut the door, Braden looked up in the rearview mirror. “Hey, man.”
“Hey.” Luke glanced at me. His tone was cautious, but resigned.
Lovely. I was glad we were on the same page, at least.
He glanced at Crissy. She held up a hand. “Hey there.”
Luke narrowed his eyes and didn’t respond to her. He asked Braden, “Was he high or drunk?”
Braden answered Luke, “He’s both and Paul said there are some other guys there who will help us get him out.” If this became a bigger problem than a four—I doubted the girl would help—three-person job.
“We might need them.” Luke’s tone was ominous.
Crissy was looking among all of us. “Uh, should I be worried? Is this guy violent or something?”
Braden opened his mouth to answer. I beat him to it, saying, “Or something. He’s an asshole when he’s sober, so take a guess what he’s like when he’s drunk.”
“Oh.” She shrank back in her seat. “Not good.”
That was putting it lightly.
“Okay. Shut up.” Braden turned on the radio. “I know no one’s happy about this, but we have to. He’s—”
“—family,” I finished for him. “I know.”
He looked up and met Luke’s gaze in the mirror. An unspoken message passed between them. My jaw hardened. I didn’t want to guess what they were thinking. Falling silent, the rest of the ride was like that until we pulled up to Paul Montrose’s house. He was the lead singer of Shifter, a punk rock band with whom we were all friendly. We got out and headed up to the two-story home that looked like it belonged in the suburbs and not on the edge of Grant West. With a natural reserve behind it and a candy warehouse across the street, Paul hosted a lot of parties here because of the privacy. He had no neighbors, and a lot of his friends were in bands. A stage was set up in the backyard where we could hear someone playing. The music had blasted us as soon as we turned down the road.
Paul came out the front door, holding a beer. He was close to six feet, with a lean build like Luke’s, and dark blond tussled hair. I always liked Paul. Sometimes there was jealousy among the bands, especially if someone left one for another, but not with him. He was even-keel with everyone. As we crossed the yard, he waved. “Thanks for coming.”
I held back. Paul had called Braden, so I expected him to talk for us, but Luke moved forward. He asked, “Where is he?”
Paul gestured to the second floor. “Wessler and Nix got him to a bedroom up there, and we’re trying to keep people from going up there. He tried starting a couple fights. After the third one, we’d had enough. He was scaring a lot of the girls, too, and he’s got these friends here. I don’t know how to get them to leave, but I don’t want to call the cops. Because, you know.” He put his fingers together and pretended to smoke a joint. “Anyway. You can use this way to get him out.” He walked around the side of the house. There was a side porch and stairs that wound up to the second floor, leading to a door.
“How is he?” I asked. If Emerson had passed out, this would be much easier.
“He’s…” he hesitated, “…a handful.”
A handful for Paul was a nightmare for the rest of us. “That’s probably putting it nice.”
“Yeah. Well.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. “I wanted to call Elijah, but Emerson kept saying in the bedroom we couldn’t call him, so sorry, guys. I know this must be a pain.” Stepping back, he took another drag from his beer and waved again. “I’ll let you guys deal with him, but I’m here if you need help.”
“Thanks for that, Paul, and thanks for calling us and not…” Luke grew quiet. There was no one else to call. Emerson didn’t want Elijah called, so we were it. Realizing that, Luke motioned to Braden instead. “Let’s go and get him.”
They started up the stairs. Braden told Crissy to wait for us, so she hung back while I followed them. Paul fell in step beside me. He said under his breath, “I do feel bad for calling you guys. I just didn’t know who else to call. He kept saying Eli couldn’t come, and I couldn’t call the cops, so it was you guys.”
“It’s no problem,” I reassured him. “For real—”
“Get out, you motherfuckers! Get out!”
Hearing Emerson’s roar, I corrected, “And I spoke too soon.” Stepping through the second-floor door, Emerson was hunched over with his back to a corner. His nostrils were flaring, and his hands were raised, ready to fight. Braden and Luke were standing in the doorway watching him.
I said, “We’re going to need weapons.”
Braden asked me over his shoulder, “You used to have a Taser when we were kids. Do you still?”
“You want me to tase him?” I just won the lottery.
He hesitated, “Well, we might need to.”
Luke wasn’t listening. He walked forward, his hand closing and opening in a fist. He stopped right before Emerson. His shoulders were tense. He was waiting for an attack, but it didn’t come. Emerson looked at him like a feral animal. His chest was heaving, and his eyes were fully dilated, almost pure black, but he still didn’t move. He was watching, waiting.
Luke glanced back at me, and with a jolt, I realized what he was going to do.
I nodded and started forward. He’d better protect me, or I swear to god…I stopped thinking and let out a ragged breath.
As I drew closer, Emerson straightened. The urge to say, “Here, kitty kitty,” was on the tip of my tongue, but I held back. Eyeing my cousin warily, I stopped when Luke held out his hand. Then I waited. I was here. My cousin hated me. He should’ve lunged by now.
Luke moved so he was standing to the side. He shifted back on his heel, ready for the attack. Oh fuck it, I thought. I looked into Emerson’s eyes and taunted, “What are you waiting for, Emerson? If you’re going to hit me, this is the best ti—”
It happened quickly.
Emerson sprang for me. His arms were outstretched, and his hands were open. He was going for my throat, but—Luke hit him. It was a good solid punch to the side of his face, and Emerson dropped to the floor.
I waited, holding my breath, but he didn’t move. Luke had knocked him out. I swung my gaze to his, my knees shaky. “Well, that’s one way of handling it…” I trailed off. Luke’s eyes darkened before he looked away from me. For a moment, we’d been the old best friends that we used to be. That moment was over, and it was back to him hating me.
I stepped aside, and Luke bent to grab Emerson. Braden, Paul, and two other guys came into the room. All of them carried him down the stairs. I followed behind them, shutting the door. Crissy was wringing her hands together. She darted to the side as the guys took Emerson to the car.
“What happened up there?” she asked me in a rush. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and she wiped them off with the back of her hand.
“Uh.” What did happen? “Nothing much.” And that was the truth. Nothing much happened. Emerson was high. We got him out, and now it was back to life as usual. I hadn’t been given a window to my old friendship with Luke. It was a façade. He needed me to act as bait. That was it. Nothing more.
“Oh.” Crissy’s laugh trembled. “That’s good. I was worried.”
“Yeah…” I squared my shoulders back. Whatever. I walked away from Luke three years ago. That had been my choice, not his, but even as I tried to make myself believe that, I couldn’t. I missed being Luke’s friend. Getting that feeling again and then having it taken away, I felt something missing inside me.
They started to put Emerson behind the driver’s seat, but Luke shook his head. “No. Do the middle. If he wakes up, we can restrain him better this way.”
Hearing those words, Crissy stepped back, bumping into my side. I expected her to move away, but she didn’t. She stayed there. Her arm started shaking, and that told me one thing; she wasn’t going to help much.
I started for the front seat, but Luke stopped me. “What are you doing?”
“‘What are you doing?’” I indicated Emerson. “You need to sit next to him if you’re going to be able to restrain him.”
“I know.” He held his hand out, and Braden gave him the keys. Luke held them out to me. “You drive. Braden and I will both sit in the back.”
“Oh, thank god.” Crissy darted for my seat.
She closed the door for me, pulling on it so I was forced to step back. Luke laughed slightly. He asked, “Still want to join the band?”
“What do you mean?”
“Not much has changed in three years. Emerson gets high. We carry him home, and we do the best we can. This is how it is.”
I already knew how Emerson operated. Was it worth dealing with my cousin, that’s what he was warning me about, but the real question I needed to ask myself—was this all worth it, to play with Luke again?
My hand closed around the keys, and I went to start the car, but I already had my answer. Was it worth it?
Hell yes.