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“You’re a New Orleans Malone, not sure I’d claim you as family.”
“You’re letting me live in your guest house.”
“Must have had a momentary lapse in sanity.” Malone glared at him. “You’re evicted.”
Jardin sighed. “Quit playing around, Alec.”
He wasn’t playing around. He’d meant every word. Too bad his cousin was shit at reading people. Not a great skill for a lawyer to be lacking.
“You need to get them in line.”
“I don’t have to do shit,” Alec snapped back. Not that he didn’t have the same thought several times a day. But he’d go to his grave defending his brothers. He could call them a bunch of dipshits, but no one else could. “Why the hell do I let you stay here?”
“Because you need someone with an ounce of sanity to help you rein that crazy family of yours in.”
“I don’t need help.” And like he’d ask his stuck-up snob of a cousin to corral his brothers. The New Orleans Malones didn’t get their hands dirty. They paid other people to do that.
“Yeah? Because the way I see it, someone is either going to end up dead or in jail.”
He wasn’t saying anything that hadn’t occurred to Alec. Didn’t mean he liked hearing a lecture on his family.
“You can’t keep protecting them all their lives, Alec.”
“I’m not protecting them.”
“Look, I know what a bastard your father was—”
“Is this all you wanted?” Alec interrupted him. “To lecture me about my brothers?”
“One day, one of them is going to do something that you can’t throw money at and fix.”
“Why are you here?” Alec asked, his patience nearly gone. And it took a lot to make him lose his temper.
His brothers had always been a bit crazy. Wild. But who could blame them after the fucking hell life they’d all had growing up? Wasn’t like his hands were clean. He’d done what he had to in order to survive. They were all alive and in one piece. Sort of. Beau was missing a finger and West had lost so much muscle in his right thigh after an infected knife wound that he walked with a limp.
But he’d done his best to instill some values. They might fuck with each other but no one outside the family messed with one of them and lived to tell the tale. Sure, they didn’t always stick to the law, but he’d been the same when he was younger. That he tried to follow the rules now had more to do with not wanting to attract attention than any real respect for the law.
Something his cousin wouldn’t get. The New Orleans Malones always did have a highly developed sense of self-importance. Thought they were better than their cousins because they were college-educated and lived in fancy fucking houses.
Go back far enough and all their money came from the same dirty place. Jardin and his brothers just had short memories. Of course, they hadn’t been raised in a household with a monster. Or been made to do shit that would leave them screaming into their pillows at night.
Could he blame his brothers for blowing off steam? They were Malones. They had an abundance of energy, charm and a reckless disregard for authority. But he also knew Jardin was right. He couldn’t protect them forever. And one day, he worried they’d go too far.
“I told you, I need a favor.”
“I thought I already did you a favor by letting you live here.”
Jardin raised his eyebrows. “You consider that a favor? I take my own life in my hands every time I come up that driveway.”
“Drama Queen,” he muttered.
“Raid shot out my front tire!”
Alec shrugged. “He thought you were that dickwad who keeps trying to buy the ranch.”
“Osborne is fifty, balding, and drives a red Porsche. Are you seriously trying to tell me he mistook my black Audi for a red Porsche?” Jardin half-yelled.
“He’s color-blind.”
