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It was too bad I couldn’t get the Harley out for the drive today. I would have if I didn’t need the truck bed for the beer. But I had plenty of time to go riding before my next assignment. Tomorrow began my thirty days of leave, and I planned to use every second I could carve out on the Harley.
Wyatt’s house was a single-story ranch in a quiet neighborhood. He moved into the house after he and his wife divorced. Not that Wyatt talked about his failed marriage much. He’d signed the papers with that somber expression he’d worn ever since I’d known him. He was only a few years older than me and had served as second in command in our squad.
Which meant, by order of succession, he was in command now.
I spied Lucas’s big chrome Harley in the drive beside Aiden’s black Mustang, and then there was James’s bright red pickup truck with the elevated wheels. And Wyatt’s ancient tan Ford that looked like a damn work truck.
I parked on the street. The exterior of Wyatt’s house was a sedate, cool blue with ivory shutters that the man kept in pristine condition. I didn’t know how he did it, considering how often we were on the other side of the globe. I hefted the four cases of beer from the bed of my truck and tucked the bottle of whiskey beneath my arm. I didn’t bother knocking at the front door. We were good enough friends that it wasn’t needed.
Lucas was in the modern kitchen when I entered. His blue eyes lit up at what was in my hands. “Thank fuck!”
Lucas strolled over, his hazel eyes somber, in jeans and a gray T-shirt and hoisted two of the cases. “We’re staying tonight. Figure we’re all getting piss ass drunk.”
“That’s the plan. Any idea about the package Evan sent?” I was rabidly curious. What had Evan left behind? Why had the package been sent to Wyatt and not to me? Questions swirled in my mind.
“Wyatt didn’t explain. Just said to be here, so here I am.” Lucas was a showman with a chip on his shoulder. But tonight he seemed muted. I know he and Evan had been tight too. We’d all been friends, a.k.a. brothers from other mothers for fucking ever.
“Where are you taking those?” I nodded at the cases in his hands as he trod past the stainless steel refrigerator and headed toward the sliding glass door.
“Fridge is full of beer already. Wyatt has two huge coolers filled with ice out back.”
“Good call.” I followed him out onto the back patio. Wyatt had expanded the concrete porch with gravel and stone pavers. He’d added a fire pit that was already lit even though the sun was still shining. The scent of grilling meat filled the backyard, and the cedar picnic-style table with wooden benches on either side was already set with plates for dinner. But it was the box on top of the table that garnered my attention.
“Look who finally decided to make an appearance.” Aiden toasted me from a lounge chair in shorts and a shirt. Looked like he was already hip deep in the drink, considering his white boy skin was already turning as red as his hair.
“Yeah, had to stop and grab some more so we could watch you puke your guts out later.” I teased with a small laugh. It felt good to laugh, even if the circumstances were shit.
“Just because Aiden can’t hold his liquor—”
“Hey!” Aiden interrupted with a scowl and gave James the finger.
James glared at him, his shaggy, mud brown hair in need of trim. “Dude, you fucking know you can’t. You’ve never been able to in all the damn years we’ve known you.”
“You never know. One of these days, I will.” Aiden took another long drink of his beer.
“And then we’ll be atyourfucking wake,” Wyatt spoke, his back to us so that all one could see was his black hair buzzed short and stoicism. He didn’t turn from the barbecue pit to address us. But that was Wyatt, a man of few words. It was always a shock to see him in jeans without starch in his collar.
“Like what you’ve done back here, Wyatt.” I added the cases to the cooler and grabbed one before settling myself on an unoccupied lounge chair.
“Appreciate it,” Wyatt said, turning steaks on the grill.
“So what’s this package Evan sent us? And did he send it before?” James asked with a grimace.
“Of course he sent it before he put a bullet in his brain. Do you really think he sent it afterward?” Lucas shook his head with an eye roll.
“I know. That’s not what I meant. Shit.” James took a swig of beer and studied the can.
Glad someone had brought the topic up, even if it was delivered in a less than stealthy manner. I waited while Wyatt took a moment to respond. That was one thing about Wyatt. He’d answer when he was good and ready.
Wyatt finally said, “We’ll open it after we eat and find out together what the dude was thinking. It’s the only proper way to do it, I’m thinking.”
“And when’s that going to be? I’m starved,” Lucas commented. He was always hungry. We’ve been known to polish off a metric ton of food.
“The steaks are almost done. If one of you Nancys wants to grab the potatoes out of the oven, we can eat in five.” Wyatt informed us.
“I’ll get them.” I rose from my seat, needing something to do besides wait to see what Evan had sent.
Wyatt had left a dish out for the potatoes. I pulled the baked potatoes out of the oven and shut it off. Then carted it out to the outdoor table. There was already butter, sour cream, and salt and pepper on the table, with plates, forks, and steak knives.
