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With that, he flew up off the ground and rammed his shoulder into my stomach, sending us both flying. Then, it was just fighting. Fists, knees, curses. There was nothing like a fight with your brother. You knew each others’ weak spots, where to strike, when to feint. It was full of half-buried hatchets and old grudges. If there was ever a challenging fight to be had- fuck taking on a boxer or a UFC guy or a street gang member, take on your own God damn sibling.
“Fucking seriously?” a deep voice said, all gravel, as a hand grabbed the back of Mark’s shirt and yanked backward hard enough to send him flying a few feet away, his back crashing into the bar.
And there was Reign, hair dripping down onto his leather cut, likely because the crazy fuck was riding his motorcycle out in the storm. One dark brow was raised and his lips quirked up at the side. “Brothers fighting… must be over a woman,” he said, extending a hand to help me onto my feet. I took it and wiped the blood from my lip where I had bitten into my cheek.
“Fuck you doing here in a hurricane?” I asked, nodding toward the bar and he stopped to grab the stool I had overturned and sat down on it, accepting when I ordered him a beer.
“Needed out of the compound for a while. Can’t shake the feeling that Mo wasn’t the only rat.”
“Got reason to suspect another or just paranoid now?” I reasoned, tipping my beer at him before taking a swig.
“Fuck if I know. Looking at everyone twice now,” he admitted, rolling his neck as if to relieve tension. “What’s going on with you and your brother?”
I shook my head. “All of us are always getting into a fight over some petty shit. It’s nothing new.”
Reign nodded. “It’s like that with all the guys at the club too. Always fucking going at one another like wild animals over dumb shit. But, usually…”
“Women,” I acknowledged.
“Got yourself pussy-whipped, Mallick? Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Never met a chick like her around here. But it didn’t work out. Mark was ribbing me about it. I didn’t react well.”
“Gotta have thicker skin than that, man,” he said, reaching inside his cut and producing a slightly wet bulging envelope. I didn’t have to ask to know what it was. “For Mo’s sins.”
“Appreciate you making it right,” I said, turning over my shoulder to where Mark was holding the side of his bottle against his cheek. “Yo, give this to Pops for me. It’s from Reign,” I added and Mark nodded, taking it. There were no hurt feelings or any need to talk shit out. We got it out of our systems already.
“So what…” Reign started, but then the lights cut off. We waited a beat, figuring it was just flickering like it had been doing on and off for hours. But it was a complete black out. A tree must have fallen down on the lines with all the wind. “Great,” Reign grumbled. “All these fucks will be out on the street driving like morons without streetlights to guide them. I’m out,” he said, standing. I could hear him chugging back his beer then he clamped a hand on my shoulder. “See you around, Shane.”
With that, I heard him make his way to the door. Not more than a couple seconds later, his bike roared to life and he took off.
“Alright, we are closing up. Your last round is on us,” Ryan declared, showing up out of nowhere. I swear to fuck, he was always just there when there was some kind of business problem going on. The guy had a sixth sense or something. “Get it going. Get home safely.” His voice was getting closer and I could feel him move into my side, leaning up against the bar. “If the cleaning crew has to mop up any more of you assholes’ blood again, they’re not going to be happy. They’re going to start demanding extra for that hazmat shit.”
“Mark needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.”
To that, Ryan laughed. “Come on now, it’s Mark we’re talking about here. You couldn’t shut him up with duct tape.”
“Could muffle him a little though,” I grumbled, watching as Mark and the bartender found the flashlights and walked around to make sure everyone was clearing out.
“You’ve had a shit week,” Ryan said, though I hadn’t told him anything. That was another nifty trick of his; he just knew shit. “Go home. The power will be out until morning probably. Get some rest. Sleep off the shit mood.”
“You know, sometimes you’re more mom-like than Mom is,” I said, just to goad him. “Nurturing and all that shit.”
“Just for that, I am telling Hunt and Fee that you are, in fact, free on Saturday to help them move furniture. I originally told them you had shit to do so you wouldn’t have to deal with Fee grilling you. But now you’re fucked.” With that, he walked away and I made my way to the door feeling marginally better.
