Page 21 of Midnight Curfew

I relax a little, hearing his joking tone.

“What do I do if she wants sex again?” he asks.

Army chuckles behind me. “Tell her you need to refill the tank.”

“Tell her no,” I retort.

But my oldest brother sighs. “I don’t think I can.”

I shake my head. Exactly. When Macon’s on, he’s on. He scares the shit out of CEOs and old men who’ve seen war. He can’t seem to get control of his own wife, though.

“Shipment’s coming in at midnight,” Army reminds us.

Macon still rests on the bed. “Warn them a storm is on its way.”

“Will do.” Army wraps his belt around his waist, fastening it. “Can you drop Dex at Jasmine’s?”

Macon nods, knowing it’s routine to take the kid to the babysitter’s, but still, Army makes sure to ask.

“Toss his bike into your truck,” Army tells him.

“Got it.”

Army heads down the stairs, on his way to work, and Macon rises off the bed.

“I need you available tonight.” He lifts his brown eyes to me. “We’re doubling our orders in the summer months now.”

Trace runs a bar in St. Carmen but also the attached storehouse that supplies the liquor he sells. Which we get on the black market and supply way cheaper to all of the establishments in town. Shipments come in by boat, and Army directs the cops he can’t trust away from whatever route we take to drop it off at the storehouse.

“Okay,” I say.

He goes into his bathroom, and a moment later I hear the shower run. To the right of the door, above, is a three-foot-long beam that stretches across the corner, one wall to another. That’s where they found my mother, and I haven’t been in this room much since. I don’t know why he sleeps in here, even if it is the primary bedroom, but he loved her the most, I guess.

Callum’s mother died in the house he lives in now, too. It was something we shared.

Thunder cracks overhead, and I tilt my head back, listening until I hear the rain hit the roof.

The storms have started.

4

Dallas

Five Years Ago

I bend over, stuffing a handful of clippings into one of the canvas bags.

“Finish up,” Army tells us, rushing to rake everything into a pile. “We still have to do the Holybrook house, and rain is coming.”

I close my fist around more leaves and branches, loading them with the rest of the rubbish to be taken out.

But I don’t move faster. I make the same amount of money either way, and there will just be more cleanup after the rain tonight. Hell, we’re cleaning up from the last storm now.

The June heat settles on my skin like a coat, sweat soaking through my sleeveless T-shirt, and I glance behind me to the crystal-green pool. We have a pool, but this one spreads out over the half a fucking football field that’s the Ameses’ backyard. Three girls and one guy lounge waist-deep, little tropical drinks in their hands as some smooth music beats in the background.

I recognize Milo Price. He likes to come over to the Bay to slum. His girlfriend, Krisjen Conroy, stands next to him. Like Trace, she never seems to stop smiling.

Clay Collins and Amy Chandler laugh together, and I wish I didn’t know any of these people, but they go to school with Liv at Marymount. When Macon started paying for our sister to attend that den of snakes, I didn’t say shit. Iron was pissed—she should be with her own people, he thought—but the Saints would either break her or build her. She’s holding her own like a fucking Jaeger.