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“And that’s why I’m here,” I shot back. “I came to you because I need help. I obviously can’t do this alone. Evan’s been gone for almost two weeks now, and the last I’d heard he was running with Aimon and Javi.”
“Your brother sounds like a real piece of work,” Santiago grunted.
“He’s not,” I countered quickly. “He’s a good kid. Got mixed up with the wrong crowd, that’s all. And… well…”
I lowered my gaze involuntarily. I didn’t have to look up to know that they already knew.
“Drugs.”
I nodded somberly. It had been a recent development.
“What kind?” asked Silas.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Heroin. Meth. Whatever he could get his hands on, really.” I sighed as the bad memories threatened to flood my brain. Somehow I pushed them back. “Evan showed up on my doorstep six months ago, homeless and strung out. I took him in, trying to get him clean.”
“And it didn’t take,” guessed Santiago.
“It took,” I said defensively. “A few times, anyway. The last time was the best, actually. He had a job. A good one, too. But it paid like shit, and then someone from the Lozano’s crew offered him something that paid more. Alotmore. And Evan… well…”
“We get it.”
The room fell silent, save for the hiss of leather as Santiago fell heavily back into his chair. He folded his tremendous arms behind his head and closed his eyes.
“Look, we can’t help you,” he said heavily. “I don’t know why you ever thought we could.”
I could feel my face flush with anger, or embarrassment, or hopelessness. Maybe a combination of all three.
“To liberate the oppressed,” I said flatly.
The guys looked at each other uncomfortably for a moment, then back at me.
“That’s what your tattoos say, anyway. Or are they just for show?”
“You readLatin?” asked Silas.
“You’re ignoring the question,” I shot back. “A deadly knife. Crossed arrows. A fancy saying in a dead language.” I scoffed. “Does itmeananything to you anymore? Or is it all just a bunch of faded ink now?”
I’d taken the gamble, hoping it would pay off. By the looks in their faces however, I could tell I’d pushed too far.
Especially with one of them.
“You think you know all about this?” Santiago snapped, tapping the tattoo in question. “Just because you cantranslateit?”
His teeth were bared now, like a wolf or a bear. They were big and white and made him look fearsome.
“You don’t know the half of what we’ve seen,” he snarled, nodding toward Silas. “The places we’ve been. The suffering. The sacrifices…”
Little by little his voice was no longer angry. He was lost in memory, living in the past. His expression was stoic. Somber.
Silas on the other hand, looked a lot more uncomfortable. Maybe even a little apologetic.
“Now…” Santiago said, pointing slowly toward the door. “Get out.”
Six
BRYNNE
“Travis…” I called, pushing my empty bottle forward across the bar. “One more?”
