“What?” I shake my head; “Hang on, Javier said Benson was adamant that it wasn't about money; that it was about tying up loose end-”
He barks out a laugh; “Peyton, it's always about money. The whole world is about money.”
“Easy to say when you have it.”
Bryce shoots me a look; “I don't remember your paychecks from Archer being exactly light either, babe. And we both know what we both had before all that.”
He knows about me and about my past, and in ways no one else does, not even Logan. Just like I know about his.
“So, what's so valuable?”
Bryce nods slowly before he turns, his eyes looking right into mine; “Diamonds.”
I can feel my body tense up; “Diamonds? What diam-”
He turns and looks out towards the sea again; “The diamonds we found out in the jungle in Africa. The ones that I buried.”
11
Bryce
P A S T
“What exactly are you fucking telling us?”
Rafe is looking at me with that dark, icy stare he gets that pierces through the heavy brows and the thick beard covering his face. I swallow thickly, wincing at the lancing pain of the cracked rib in my side as I try and match his look right back at him; “Jacob’s dead, Rafe; I’m sorry.”
The muscles in his neck clench tight, and he holds my gaze a second longer before he swears and rips out of his seat, knocking the chair to the ground as he roars. He whirls and puts his fist through the drywall behind him as he howls.
Rory looks up at me, shaking his head; “What the fuck happened up there in Seattle?”
Others from the table are getting up trying to calm Rafe down, trying to collect him and let him know they’re all there for him. Because that’s what brothers-in-ink - men of the reaper - do.
Especially when you find out your son’s dead.
“We were ambushed; Carter knew we were coming for him and coming for the money. There had to be fifteen guys waiting for us when we kicked in that fuckin door.” Rory’s holding my gaze, and I can feel the hard shell we all wear start to crack around the edges of myself. I can feel myself start to doubt it all, and start to doubt their trust in me.
After all, I’m not dead.
“Hey, c’mere brother.” Rory stands and puts his arm around me, clapping me hard on the back. It’s a comfort, even if it hurts like a motherfucker; “You did OK-”
“Jacob, man-” I’m fighting back emotion and clenching my jaw as he pulls back; “Jacob, he-”
“Did you abandon him?”
“Not a fucking chance.”
Rory nods grimly; “Then you did what you did, and this is how it shook out.” He shakes his head; “That’s life under the eye of the reaper, brother. You know it, I know, Jacob sure fuckin knew it, and you better believe Rafe damn well knows it.”
“I got some of the money-”
“Fuck the money, man. You’re whole; you’re here. A brother is worth more than a bag of cash, Bryce.”
Tell that to Jacob.
He looks back at the other men in the room, paying their respects to a now quieter, grieving Rafe before he looks back at me; “You talk to that recruiter again?” He says quietly.
I nod.
“Shit, man; the Marines, huh?” He shakes his head; “Rafe’s gonna fuckin hate that.”
“The code makes provisions for active duty, even voluntarily joining.”
“The code was written during Viet-fucking-nam, Bryce.”
I look at him grimly; “If I leave the cloth for any other reason, my life is forfeit; I know that. But I gotta get out, Rory; I gotta-”
“Long as you come the fuck home afterwards, I’ll back you.” Rory shoots me a hard look; “Just come home, brother; after you see the world and clear your head.”
Right, after I clear my head fighting a war of ideals in the Goddamn desert on the other side of the world.
And of course, that Bryce never does come home. That Bryce dies out there in the desert along with that other Hudson, and that other Logan. Because the men who come out the other side of that? Yeah, no one knows who they are.
Least of all them.
P R E S E N T
“I don't want you doing this.”
I'm leaning against the doorframe of the hotel bathroom watching her finish putting makeup under her eyes, batting her lashes at her own reflection as she puts the finishing touches on. She looks fucking incredible, of course, which is putting me on edge; on edge because she's looking like this ready to go out with another man.
And not just any guy. I mean I know about Hugh back home, but that's different; sort of. That's mostly out of sight and out of mind, and Hugh isn't some thuggish psychopath working for Blackriver. I don't know shit about this Anderson guy, but I know enough to know he’s a predator, and her wearing that fucking sexy little evening dress she's wearing has her looking every inch like prey.