Bruised (Brody Brothers, #3) Read online

  Killian’s black glare put Manny’s to shame. “I paid for the table I broke last week, didn’t I? I’m good for it.”

  That clearly was not the best thing to say to pacify Manny. “You keep comin’ in here breakin’ my shit, Brody. I know my dinky little bar ain’t nothing to the likes of you, with your fancy mansions and your airplanes and your fuckin’ jillion-dollar parties. But this dinky little bar is where I rule, you got that? When you show up, people leave and I lose money—and usually some furniture. You’re bad for business, and I’m tired of it.”

  “I’m not the one who’s bad for your business, Espadero.” Still wearing an expression that suggested murder was his favorite hobby, Killian slid onto a barstool. Immediately the people already sitting at the bar vanished like Houdini impersonators. “Do yourself a favor and fire Dallas Faircloth. I promise you’ll never see me again.”

  “Just like a man,” Dallas gritted out, pumping up the fury so the despair that had been threatening to devour her for weeks now didn’t sink its dark, paralyzing teeth into her heart. “Blame me for your bad behavior, just like Grabby-Hands did. Come to think of it, the resemblance between you and that loser is striking. Are you guys related?”

  That swung his ominous attention her way, and she had to lock her spine in place not to cower. At first glance, Killian Brody was every woman’s dream. With his curling black hair waving almost to his massive shoulders, both ears pierced with green-colored studs, and another green-studded barbell piercing in his left brow right through a wicked looking scar, he was certainly the type of man she would have gone for. Several inches over six feet, built like Superman on his best day, a close-cropped beard that framed perfect lips, and eyes that matched the dark green of the body jewelry he preferred, he was just about perfect to look at. When he’d walked into the Sugar Land music store where she’d been working as assistant manager, she’d taken one look at him and wondered how she could talk him into the storage room without getting fired.

  Then he’d introduced himself, a frigging Brody, and it was all she could do to keep from throwing up on his highly polished custom-made boots.

  From there, things had gone downhill. Fast.

  “You’d better explain yourself, woman,” Killian said in that almost-whisper that made her think all he wanted to do was scream like a demon. “What makes you think I’m anything like that fucking little weed?”

  “First of all,” she said, leaning against the bar to look him right in the eye, when all she really wanted to do was flee in terror when he spoke in that scary-soft tone, “the weed blamed me for not enjoying the oh-so manly way he slimed his disgusting hand up my skirt to pinch my ass so hard I’m going to be wearing his filthy mark on my skin for at least a couple days. And just now, when your shitty behavior was pointed out to you—”

  “Ay, Dios mio, don’t make it worse, D,” Manny groaned.

  “—instead of manning up and proving you’ve got some kind of spine, your automatic default response was to blame me. For what, by the way? For being here at The Dive? For existing? And secondly... How’s your thumb, Brody?”

  The massage Killian had absently been giving the joint at the base of his thumb came to an abrupt halt. “My point—you wouldn’t get touched by unworthy slimeballs like that if you weren’t working here.”

  “There you go, blaming me for existing again.”

  “Damn it, that’s the last thing I’m saying,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’ve got the whole victim thing down pat, don’t you?”

  God, the arrogance... “What I’ve got down pat is the truth. Do you even know what that truth is?”

  “That your idiotic life choices have led you to work in this shithole?”

  “Fuck you,” Manny snarled.

  “The truth,” Dallas pushed on, refusing to rise to the bait, “is that I wouldn’t have gotten touched if I were still in Sugar Land working my job in the music store where you found me, and not in fucking Bitterthorn. That’s the truth.”

  Abruptly he shot to his feet, causing her to jump back and out of harm’s way. His eyes narrowed at her, as if her involuntary movement somehow offended him, before he dug into his back pocket for his wallet. “You’re here in town until you’re no longer needed. End of discussion. For the door,” he added to Manny and tossed some bills onto the bar. It didn’t surprise her one bit to discover he walked around with hundred-dollar bills the same way she walked around with quarters and dimes. “Is she working tomorrow?”

  “She can answer for herself,” Dallas snapped while Manny scooped up the cash.

  “Yeah, she is,” Manny said, shoving the money into his pocket without ever taking his eyes off Killian. “And the next night, and the night after that. You might chase away all my customers, but the moment you’re gone they come back, better than ever. Your family isn’t as popular around here as you think, Brody.”

  “That so?” Killian sent a glance around the room. The few patrons who had remained avoided making eye contact, but the hostility in the room was palpable. “It’s funny how you think any Brody man would ever give a shit about that, Espadero. See you tomorrow night.”

  Chapter Two

  “Stop apologizing.”

  Startled, Dallas looked up from the task of wringing out a mop. While cleaning wasn’t exactly in her job description as The Dive’s one and only waitress, making sure the bathrooms were clean was something she was highly motivated to do.

  “I think you might be losing it, Manny. I didn’t say anything.”

  “You’re cleaning everything in sight. Since I don’t pay you to be the janitor, that means you’re apologizing in your weird, backwards, Dallas Faircloth way.” Her boss leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “It’s not your fault that prick keeps showing up.”

  “We both know that’s not true.” She kept her eyes trained on the mop so he wouldn’t see any moisture in her eyes. She wasn’t big on crying; somewhere along the way she’d realized they were a waste of time and energy, so she did her best to never give in to them. “The likes of Killian Brody would never darken your doorstep if it weren’t for me.”

  “When I first entered the Army, I had this cocksucker of a CO in charge of my unit,” he said, surprising her enough to bring her gaze back to him. “He was some snooty Citadel graduate who’d never seen action, but you could tell he thought he was better than everyone in uniform. He even treated his non-com—our sergeant—like dirt, because he wasn’t a college grad, you know?”

  She frowned. “Being a non-commissioned officer is no small thing. It usually takes a lifetime to reach that rank, doesn’t it?”

  “Hell, yeah it does. Our sergeant was scary as hell and tougher than boot leather, and he’d done three combat tours and lived to tell the tale. We all respected him. Well, everyone except that little Citadel bitch. That’s why he never won any of us over. He showed no respect for anyone but himself, so he got nothing in return. That’s how I see the Brody brothers,” he went on, shrugging. “We’re all just lowly grunts to them, but us commoners know what real life is all about. We’re the ones who struggle through the wars. We’re the ones who live and breathe and bleed and die, while snooty assholes remain safe and above it all. You, I respect. You’ve been through the wars, I can see it in your eyes. But him?” Manny made a sound of contempt. “The way he rolls up in here like he owns everything he sees, and makes life hard for me and mine... I wouldn’t give that bastard the time of day if his life depended on it. So stop apologizing, stop cleaning, and get the hell out of here. It’s time to close up shop.”

  “He hates me, you know.” The words came out before she knew she was going to say them. She loosed a short breath and dropped the mop in its bucket. “A thousand years ago, my mother screwed his father, and together they made a baby that broke up both our families. We all suffered. Yet somehow, that long-ago drama is all my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault. You were a baby when that craziness went down.”

&
nbsp; “Eight, actually.” Old enough to remember everything, to that last horrible moment when her little brother Des had been ripped from her arms as they’d huddled, hiding, in her bedroom closet. Then Manny’s comment sank in. “Craziness? Do you remember it?”

  Her boss grimaced. “Knowing everyone’s business is the curse of small-town life, kid. A married man having an affair with a married woman is no big deal in a big city, even if that affair does produce a kid. But this is Bitterthorn, D. Worse yet, it was a Brody producing an out-of-wedlock kid with the most beautiful woman in town—your mother, Delphine. Of course I remember it. Don’t get a big head about this, but you look exactly like her.”

  “That’s what makes the Brodys hate me all the more.” Which was fine with her, she thought darkly. Mouth tight, she rolled the mop out of the bathroom and toward the back of the bar, with the intention of dumping the bucket out the back door. “Too bad they need me for spare parts for Desmond. Otherwise I could’ve gone my whole life never having to deal with the Brodys.”

  “How’s your brother doing, anyway?”

  “My what?”

  “You know what I mean, smartass.”

  She knew. So did everyone else in town. “I guess you mean Des Brody, the youngest of the Brody brothers?”

  “Like I said,” he shrugged while she opened the back door to the stillness of a humid night filled only with the sounds of serenading crickets. “Your brother.”

  “Half-brother.” Not that it had ever mattered to her. It was Killian Brody who used that phrase whenever he spoke of her connection to Des. It was like he had to keep reminding her that she was just a half-sister. Useful for spare parts, but not much else.

  It was the Brody family who was like royalty, not her.

  “Whatever.” Manny took over when she struggled to tip the heavy yellow industrial mop bucket onto its side. “Last I heard, the injury Des got bull-riding was doing better and he was on the mend. He might not even need a liver transplant.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that, too, but...”

  “But?”

  “If that were the case, I wouldn’t still be here.” Then she shot him a sheepish glance. “Or at least, that’s what I’m guessing.”

  “You don’t know?’

  “Nope.” She hadn’t even seen Desmond since Killian had dragged her back to Bitterthorn. At first, because Killian hadn’t trusted her enough to let her anywhere near her badly injured half-brother. And later, because of Desmond himself. He’d refused to see her, a fact which was a very secret knife embedded in the deepest core of her heart. “All I know is what Killian Brody told me. He swore that just as soon as they were sure they didn’t need me for spare parts for Des, I’d be free to leave.”

  “Damn.” He stared at her in something like horror. “That’s cold.”

  “He’s cold.” Though it was a muggy August night, she still had to work at stifling a shiver. “Nothing matters to a Brody but a Brody. That’s what kept me from freaking out completely when he kidnapped me. The one thing I could rely on was that Killian Brody needed me alive to help Desmond.”

  “You keep saying kidnapped like you mean it,” Manny commented after a moment, and his voice was no louder than the crickets serenading in the darkness beyond the pool of light at The Dive’s back door. “Killian Brody didn’t actually kidnap you, did he? I mean, that would be crazy.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me there.”

  “So...he didn’t kidnap you. Right?”

  “Not exactly.” She stuffed her hands in her jeans pockets and felt them slip a low on her hips. She’d lost weight since she’d been forced back to Bitterthorn, which wasn’t surprising. Stress was one hell of a diet. “Looking back, I guess I probably should have gone with Killian after our first meeting, and definitely after our second. He didn’t give me a third chance to turn him down.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  She sighed again. “I’ve had some crap jobs in my life, but my last job was a good one—assistant manager at this eclectic music store run by this far-out hippy couple stuck in the 70s. Basically I got paid to play whatever instrument I felt like playing that day, and then I’d promise customers that they, too, could sound just like me if they’d buy all the shit I told them to buy. I was probably the happiest I’d ever been at that job. Then one day this giant walks in, announces he’s Killian Brody and that his little brother—who’s also my little brother—was at death’s door. Long story short, he needed me to get tested to see if I was a match so I could donate my liver.”

  “Jesus.” Manny shook his head, his upper lip curling. “Asshole didn’t care you’re still using it, I guess.”

  “Apparently science has figured out a way to slice off a bit of living liver and transplant it into someone else so it can grow into a brand new and healthy liver.”

  “Ugh. Sounds like worms. I don’t like thinking my liver’s like a worm.”

  “I think it’s a bit more complex than that, Manny. And there’s a trick to it—you have to be compatible,” she added, shrugging. “Preferably family. None of the Brody brothers are compatible with Des. The day they found that out was the day they remembered I existed.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Oh, I’ve had plenty of luck in my life,” she drawled. “Unfortunately all of it’s been bad.”

  “Tell me about it.” Manny snorted and leaned against the open doorway. “I take it that’s when Killian Brody drove to Sugar Land for a chat?”

  How civilized that sounded. Too bad it wasn’t anywhere near the truth. “The first time he showed up was for a chat, I guess. He walked into the music store, announced who he was, and then claimed he had some private business to discuss. Since the Brody name means the devil incarnate to me, I told him to fuck off.”

  “Good for you. They don’t hear that often enough.”

  That was why she liked Manny so much. He understood. “That was when Killian told me Des was dying and needed my liver, and if I didn’t do exactly as he said, I was a selfish bitch cut from the same cloth as my mother.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “He did. Naturally I told him to fuck off again, this time with exclamation points. But I’ll admit, what he’d said about Desmond scared me. I wanted to check his story out for myself, just in case this guy was legit and not some creepy weirdo who knew a few facts about my origin. Once I was done with work, I drove to my apartment, thinking I’d Google the name Desmond Brody and see what I could find. Even back in the day, Brodys made news wherever they went, so I thought getting answers for myself about Des’s condition was my best bet. And if Des did actually need something from me, the least I could do was get tested to see if I was a match for him.”

  “That was the right thing to do, D,” her boss said, nodding sagely. “I like how you didn’t just brainlessly go with some stranger that rolled up on you, you know? If I had a daughter, I never would have forgiven her if she’d just taken a strange man at his word and climbed into a car because he spewed a few vague facts and claimed he needed her help. That’s a quick way to die bad.”

  Exactly. “You would have thought that concept would’ve occurred to Killian as well, but no. He showed up again, this time stepping into my path as I headed into my apartment building.”

  “Shit.” Her boss’s eyes widened. “He knew where you lived?”

  “Yep.”

  “That would’ve freaked me the hell out, and I’m a big guy who’s been in combat.”

  “Freaked out is a good description for what I felt. At that point if he’d told me I was needed to save the freaking world, I wouldn’t have listened. Instead I held my trusty canister of pepper spray out, looked as threatening as I could, and booked it to my door. Then I called the manager’s office and watched from my living room window as security came along and waved him off the property. Again, I thought that was the end of it, but I was still worried about Des. I spent most of the night researching what had happened to him—bull-riding ac
cident at the Will Rogers Stampede Rodeo in Oklahoma.”

  “The whole town heard about it when it happened.” Manny wrinkled his nose. “The only two sports I like are boxing and baseball, and they can get crazy just with ordinary people involved. But when you bring animals into a sport...” His nose-wrinkle turned into an all-out grimace. “Rodeo’s never been my thing, but when I heard about what happened to Des Brody, I figured if I never saw a rodeo event in my life, I’d die happy.”

  “It’s a miracle Des is alive, as far as I’m concerned. The photos I saw online...” She shivered, and bit down on her lips so she wouldn’t throw up. “The guy claiming to be Killian Brody hadn’t lied. Desmond had gotten gored and trampled, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d needed every organ in his body replaced after what that bull did to him.”

  “Consider yourself lucky he just needed a liver. Otherwise the Brodys probably would’ve wanted to harvest all your parts, spare and not-so-spare.”

  Though she didn’t want to admit it out loud, she’d had that same thought. “I called my employers to let them know I had a family emergency and had to leave town. They were the only people who would have reported me missing,” she added with a wry smile. “Little did I know I was clearing the launching pad for Killian to scoop me up.”

  “So he did kidnap you.”

  “Technically, yeah, though I don’t know how much of an actual kidnapping it is when he was taking me to where I wanted to go. I just wanted to be in control of my travel plans and have my own car, money and clothes. As it is, Killian went online and ordered all the clothes you’ve seen me wearing, and I’m pretty much hoofing it everywhere I go.” Hopefully, though, that would be a thing of the past, once she had enough to pick up a third-hand set of wheels that would make getting to and from her job a lot easier than it was now. She could always sell it once she left Bitterthorn and got back to Sugar Land, where her car, according to Killian, was now in storage.