Chapter 2: Blood & Bones: Rev: Chapter 1

Rev stood under the Toyota Avalon absently watching the dark motor oil piss from the engine into the oil drain dolly.

He could change oil in his sleep. He probably had a few times after partying late some nights and coming into work like a hung-over zombie. He only had to make sure he looked alert enough while he worked so Dutch wouldn’t crack him upside the head with a wrench. His melon had been close to being dented a few times.

In truth, he appreciated the gruff old fart. He only never told him because Dutch probably wouldn’t give a fuck and, instead, yell at him to get back to work.

But it was Dutch who had given him a job of sweeping floors and doing bullshit work a few years ago when he finished his last stint in Dauphin County Prison and had nowhere else to land.

He’d been sitting in a diner in Harrisburg, eating his first good breakfast since he’d been released and scanning the want ads in the day-old paper some other patron had left behind.

He hardly had any skills but the ad for Dutch’s Garage said the owner was looking for an apprentice to train. Rev had read between the lines and figured the owner basically wanted an able body to work for shit pay.

It just so happened Rev was able and willing to work. Also willing to dig his feet in somewhere for a spell—at least until his sister got out of juvie—to put some scratch in his pocket and stay out of the joint.

He borrowed the diner’s phone, called the number in the ad and was told to get his ass up to Bumfuck, Pennsylvania pronto, so that was what he did. Since he didn’t have wheels, it took longer than expected to hitchhike his way from Harrisburg up to Manning Grove and, after doing a couple of questionable things along the way to snag a ride, he finally made it.

And managed to arrive alive and in one piece, . But with empty pockets, no place to stay, no wheels, and, of course, no morals, which helped him do what he needed to do to get some of the basics he needed, like food in his belly and clothes on his back.

The salt-and-pepper-bearded Original had taught him to turn a wrench just like he’d taught everyone else in that garage. Dutch liked to train them young and keep them.

For years, the man had dealt with mechanics coming and going like a revolving door, but between his two sons, plus Rev and Whip, he now had a steady crew. Well, steady now that Rook wasn’t landing in jail every few months.

, now that none of them were landing behind bars anymore. Though, that had more to do with Trip, the BFMC president, than Dutch.

Rev had done a little bit of time here and there. Nothing like Rook. Mostly for minor shit and certainly not for grand theft or aggravated assault on pigs like Dutch’s oldest son.

However, there was one person Rev would’ve liked to have murdered. Instead, he tended to push that impulse out of his mind instead of dwelling on it. The hatred for the man wasn’t worth Rev doing a lifetime bid in prison. Or even a permanent vacation on death row.

No, the man wasn’t even worth a fucking second of thought.

Rev spat into the floor drain under the lift and watched the foamy, slimy wad slip through one of the metal drain holes.

With the weather nice as fuck today, all the bay doors were wide open. That allowed Rev to see Rook return from a test drive. As soon as the other man parked the repaired cage in the lot and climbed out, Cujo launched himself from the bottom drawer of Rook’s rolling toolbox and beelined it outside to his daddy like the man had been gone for days instead of barely fifteen minutes.

Rook leaned over, scooped up the nasty little fucker and headed inside. He stopped only feet from Rev. “You got nothin’ better to do than stare at dirty oil? Plenty of other shit to do while that drains.”

Rev flipped him the bird.

Rook smirked. “Asshole.”

“Dickhead.”

Rook plopped the Chihuahua onto the floor. “Sic his ass, Cujo!”

The three-pound dog ran circles around his owner with his tail up, barking up at him. Rook pointed to Rev. “Not me, asshole, him!”

Rev laughed. “A stupid motherfucker just like you.”

“Just jealous he don’t like you.”

“I prefer pussy.”

“We got plenty of them runnin’ around out back.”

“The kind that don’t bury their own shit,” Rev clarified.

Suddenly a blonde was there, her hands on her hips, which drew his eyes to them. They were now slightly fuller than a year ago when she first elbowed her way into the club and also took over the garage’s office like a drill sergeant.

Every time she bitched about the extra couple of pounds she’d put on and how she planned to go on a diet, Rev would run down to Dino’s Diner, buy her a loaded buffalo burger and an order of their famous loaded fries and bring them back for her.

Of course, she couldn’t resist.

He didn’t feel bad one fucking bit because, even though the blonde looked smoking hot before, those curves just added to her sizzle.

It also added to his fantasies.

Whip’s fantasies.

Dutch’s derelict dreams.

Probably Rook’s, too, before he got collared by Jet, as well as Cage’s before Jemma.

Having wet dreams about Reilly wasn’t the same as the real thing, though. Kind of like how Pepsi wasn’t close to being the real Coke.

Rev blinked at their shop secretary, wondering why she was getting in the middle of his and Rook’s ball busting.

“Go away, woman,” Rev ordered, turning his back to her. Sometimes if he ignored her, she went away.

“Don’t be a dick.”

Sometimes she didn’t.

Reilly fit right in at the garage. She could give shit as good as she could take it.

She did not cry. She did not whine. The good was she had a dirty mouth and a dirty mind, but the bad was she could bitch—loud as fuck, too—like a typical woman.

Rev grabbed his crotch, shaking it. “Why don’t you suck mine?”

Reilly cocked an eyebrow and pursed her lips as she stared at where his hand had landed. “Nah. If I wanted to pick my teeth, I’d use a toothpick.”

Rook howled loudly, causing Cujo to break into another round of yapping. He shook his head and went back to his bay with a grin, his ferocious black-and-tan rat on his heels.

“Why you buggin’ me? Can’t you see I got work to do?”

“Work? You’re just standing there holding onto your tiny dick.”

“How you know how tiny it is?”

“Please. It’s not like any of you give a shit about privacy when you’re sticking your pin pricks into a sweet butt or hang-around out at the farm. I think I’ve seen all of your packages. Or lack of them.”

Whip lifted his head from the engine compartment of the cage he was working on in the next bay. “Who’s got the biggest?”

Reilly put a finger to her lips and turned her eyes to the ceiling like she was thinking hard. After a second or two, she grinned and said, “Dutch. He puts the rest of you to shame.”

Loud complaints went up from him, Cage, Whip and Rook, while Dutch, who was rebuilding a carb at one of the work benches, hooted out loud and pumped a wrinkled fist into the air.

“How ‘bout you go grab a ruler, we all line up and you get on your knees to measure them?” Rev suggested. If she did it naked, it would be even better.

“How about no?”

“Then how about you turn around and march that luscious ass back where you belong in the office.”

“So you can stare at it?”

Rev shrugged. “Of course. I know you work it so we watch it. Don’t even bother to fuckin’ deny it.”

She wiggled her eyebrows and her hips. “Do I?”

“Ever wonder how many loads have been shot into a fist with you, that ass, and your mouth in mind?”

She blew him a noisy kiss. “I’m glad I can be of service.”

He snorted at her teasing. “Go, Reilly.”

“I didn’t come out here to bust your microballs.”

He waited.

“I came out here to give you a message.”

He frowned, pulled a rag from his coverall’s pocket and wiped off his grimy hands. “What message?”

She held out her hand. Within her fingers was one of those pink pages off the notepad she used for phone messages.

He stared at it. Anyone who knew him called or texted his cell phone. Who the fuck would be calling the garage to get ahold of him?

This couldn’t be good.

Her fuckable lips took a downward turn. “Well, I’m assuming this message is for you.”

He snagged the slip of paper from her fingers and glanced at it.

“Isn’t your last name Rivers?” she asked, sidling up to him and bumping his hip with hers.

“Yeah.”

“Who is Michael Schmidt?”

“That’s who they asked for?”

“Yes.” He could feel her nosy gaze on him as she said, “I thought your real name was Mickey Rivers.”

“Yeah.”

She pointed to the name on the paper he held. “Then who is Michael?”

He stared at her handwriting and the blood drained from his face. “Go away, nosy.”

She stepped back and said sharply, “You’re welcome, Rev.”

He glanced up to see her chewing on her bottom lip. “Thanks,” he said distractedly. Not only from the message but from what she was doing.

He crumpled up the pink paper in his fingers, stared at the wrinkled ball and scratched the back of his neck.

He took a couple of deep breaths and glanced up again.

Reilly still stood there with her green eyes locked on him. “You okay?”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?” he asked, doing his best to hide any reaction he was having or about to have. Actually, he wasn’t even sure how he felt. His thoughts had been thrown into a blender and the button for the highest speed pushed.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He had.

“Do you know who that is?”

He sure did. “Didn’t I fuckin’ tell you to go the fuck away?” he snapped. “Leave me the fuck alone, Reilly.”

She was not the kind of woman who would break down from simply being told to fuck off. Hell no. She had almost been killed by her former asshole boyfriend because she didn’t how to back down, even if it was in her best interest and for her safety to do so. Like Rev, if you told Reilly not to do something, she did it anyway to prove she could.

That attitude was why she had been beaten to within an inch of her life.

Why she bore a scar along her temple.

Why she was hospitalized by that motherfucker douchebag. The man, in the end, she torched while he was still breathing.

She ended up getting the final revenge.

She ended up pushing that button on the incinerator because she could.

She ended up killing that abusive motherfucker because she wanted to.

Even so, no valid argument existed that the bastard didn’t deserve every second of that suffering.

Rev wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t walked away after that, brushing her hands together while wearing a big shit-eating grin.

Though, none of them, not one, who witnessed what happened would ever be able to forget it. Even her sister had puked right afterward and quickly left town to try to deal with it and everything else that had gone on that day.

Reilly acted like it never happened. Like it had been just another day in Manning Grove. She never talked about it and no one brought it up around her, either.

But today, for some reason, when he told her to get fucking lost, something crossed her face he wasn’t sure he actually saw. A possible illusion. Maybe in his shock of reading the name on the paper he now fisted, he had only imagined that flash of hurt.

It was there, then it was gone.

“You’re a dick,” came from Whip, who was now standing there watching the two of them, his jaw tight and his hands on his hips.

No matter what a pain in the ass Reilly was, they all were protective of her. Not because she was Reese’s baby sister, but because she was now a part of their club. She was deeply entrenched in the Fury sisterhood, even though she wasn’t an ol’ lady.

She had wanted it and made it happen. It didn’t matter what anyone, including Reese, thought about it.

That was also the reason she was always someone’s backpack on the club runs. No one but regulars or ol’ ladies were usually included. Reilly didn’t fit either of those two titles. Nobody was fucking her, even though most of them wanted to.

At least once.

Maybe twice.

“Was there a fuckin’ point where you thought I wasn’t?” he barked at Whip. He closed his eyes and ground out a, “Fuck.”

He took a deep breath, then a second. When he opened his eyes, he expected Reilly to have gone back to her office. Expected her to get far away from him since he was acting like a miserable prick.

But he was having a hard time concentrating on anything but that name and phone number in the center of the wad of paper.

He was surprised she still stood there. But then, nobody was more stubborn than Reilly.

Okay, maybe her older sister Reese. He didn’t know how Deacon put up with her, even as hot as she was. But the man was happy. Reese must be hella hot in bed for the man to deal with that battle axe.

But it wasn’t Reese standing before him. Instead, it was Reilly, whose hand automatically went up to pull her blonde hair forward to cover the scar on her temple. She did it all the time without thinking. No matter how often she was told that the scar didn’t take away from her looks, she still self-consciously tried to cover it.

He reached up to snag her wrist and pull her hand away. Once he released it, she dropped it to her side. She blinked her big fucking green eyes up at him in surprise when he tucked the strand of hair she’d been pulling at behind her ear, instead, totally exposing the still slightly pink line along her right temple from her forehead to the top of her cheekbone.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He was sorry for being such a dick when she didn’t deserve it.

It was more than that. He was also sorry that her asshole boyfriend had bashed her head open with some kind of fucking knickknack leaving that scar while trying to kill her.

Reilly blinked once, twice, then whispered, “What?”

Normally, he would smile at her shock at him apologizing but he just couldn’t drum one up. Not right now.

No, right now his head hurt, and he needed to go outside to clear it. And to get away from all of the curious eyes turned their way. Not only from how he acted but by what was currently happening between him and Reilly.

Reilly was an untouchable. Totally off-limits. To him. To anyone and everyone with a dick in the club. He had no fucking clue why, since she was an adult and certainly not a virgin. Even so, she’d been put on the no-fly list for all the Fury members.

He guessed if he didn’t wear a Fury cut, he could get away with sliding between her thighs. But he did, so he couldn’t.

It was just one of the rules the guys followed to keep in good standing in the MC. As much as he hated rules, this was one he did his best not to break.

However, Reilly was distracting him from what he really needed to do. It wasn’t finishing the oil change. It was to go outside where he had some privacy and call the name and number back. To find out why the fuck this person felt the need to hunt him down and turn his life upside down in the process.

To bring everything he’d buried deep back to the surface.

To stir up memories he and his sister Saylor had done their best to forget.

Maybe he should just toss the wadded-up note into the trash and go back to living his life. Simply ignore it and tell Reilly to never take a message from that person again. But if he told her that, she would want to know why. The woman had a way of digging you didn’t realize was actually digging until it was too late.

She was a goddamn pro at it.

She should’ve been a lawyer just like her sister. In fact, Reese would probably love that for her, instead of her sitting in the office of a garage in Manning Grove surrounded by horny bikers who wanted to do dirty things to her baby sister.

He sighed and realized she was standing there watching him, a concerned look on her face.

He needed to get the fuck away from her. He strode over to his toolbox, snagged his cell phone and didn’t stop moving until he was out the back door, in the warm mid-April weather and staring sightlessly out over the boneyard.

He took a breath.

And another.

He went over to the picnic table they sat at during lunch or to burn a fatty and settled on the wood bench facing the storage yard, keeping his back to the building. He dug into his open coveralls and into the front pocket of his jeans, pulled out his metal pipe and an old prescription bottle full of bud. He had tossed the pink paper ball onto the table and occasionally took a peek at it while he packed the premium bud tightly into the bowl.

He dug into his other front pocket and pulled out a Bic, put the brass pipe to his lips, tipped the flame to the bowl and inhaled the smoke until no room was left in his lungs. He held it deep, until his lungs screamed for oxygen, then blew out the smoke on a frustrated breath.

He took another long hit, then another, and sat there until the sharp edges had slightly dulled.

He snagged the wad of paper and used his fingers to flatten it out against the worn wood of the tabletop. Not enough fucking pot existed in the world for the call he was about to make.

He shouldn’t make it.

He should just use his lighter and burn the paper to ash to rid himself of the temptation.

But he was curious.

He couldn’t imagine why anyone from his past life would bother to reach out to him unless it was either something major or bad news. Or both.

More than anything, he wanted to know how that person even tracked him down. How the fuck did he find him? Why would he think Rev would care enough to hear any news?

In truth, today’s technology didn’t make it difficult for anyone to be found, even when they weren’t using their legal name. One had to work very hard to go totally off the grid and never be found again.

He honestly never thought anyone would bother to look for him.

He was wrong.

He set his phone next to the now wrinkled paper and decided he needed another hit of pot first. When he was done with that, he picked up his phone and plugged in the number written in Reilly’s neat print on the paper.

He stared at the Send button for a couple of heartbeats, then, before he changed his mind, he tapped the green icon. He put the phone to his ear and dread filled his chest as the ringing filled his ear.

Maybe he wouldn’t pick up.

Maybe he wouldn’t pick up.

Maybe—

“Hello?”

Rev’s jaw shifted when he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time. Older but still familiar.

“Hello?” Another pause. “Anyone there?”

Rev should hang up.

“Michael?” The voice sounded kind of hopeful.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, blessed be! God is good! I’ve been trying to find you for the past three weeks.”

“You found me.”

“What a relief. You made it quite difficult, you know.”

On purpose.

“But I prayed and prayed for God to guide me. And He came through. He found our lost lamb.”

The searing heat of anger began to flicker like a flame in Rev’s chest. “Ain’t lost.”

A long hesitation came from the other end of the phone, then, “Yes, you’ve lost your way, nephew. But it’s easy to find it again. For you and Sarah. God is always willing to help.”

.

He hadn’t heard that name in a long time. The same amount of time since he’d heard the name Michael.

“Sarah died,” Rev said flatly.

A deep gasp filled his ear. “Oh no, Brother Michael. May the good Lord be with Sister Sarah. God’s embracing His child in His loving arms.”

That made Rev want to puke.

The “good lord” hadn’t been with her when she was a child, so why the hell would he be with her now? Why didn’t their god embrace her in his loving arms back then?

Why didn’t the “all-seeing” and “all-knowing” divine being do something to stop them?

He refrained from asking those questions because he didn’t want the conversation to last any longer than necessary. He wanted to know why the fuck his uncle had searched for him.

And managed to find him.

“That news is quite devastating. I will add Sister Sarah to my prayers, of course. I’m not sure whether to tell that sad news to your mother or father yet. They have enough of a heavy burden to deal with right now.”

Rev hoped that heavy burden crushed them. But even with whatever they were dealing with, wouldn’t being told their daughter was dead be important?

Of fucking course not.

“That why you hunted me down?”

“Yes, I felt you needed to know and figured you’d want to come home.”

“Why the fuck would I wanna come home?”

That was no longer home and hadn’t been for over ten years.

Home was where family was and the Fury was now his family. Everyone inside the garage behind him was family. Not the man on the phone.

“I… I…” his mother’s brother stuttered. Most likely from Rev’s choice of words. “Please don’t use such foul language.”

“You reached out to me first, Matthew. You don’t fuckin’ like it, hang the fuck up and never call the garage again.”

“It’s upsetting to hear that Satan still has a firm grip on your soul, Brother Michael. I will also continue to pray for you every night.”

Satan had a firm grip on his soul.

“Yep. He sure as fuck does.”

“You can repent and rid yourself—”

“Why the fuck did you find me?” Rev yelled into the phone, not having the patience to hear his evangelical bullshit. Shit that was shoved non-stop into his ears since birth and until the day he escaped those restrictive chains.

“Your mother needs you right now.”

He dropped the hand holding his phone, stared with disbelief at the screen for a second, took a deep breath, then put it back to his ear. “She told you to fuckin’ call me?”

“No… She doesn’t know. I… She’s suffering, Michael. You need to make things right with her.”

“That’s why you fuckin’ called me? To make things right with my mother?”

“That’s not the main reason. It’s your father. A few weeks ago, she happened to mention she hoped you and Sarah would make peace with him before he passed.”

“He’s dead?” That was one thing he could shout “hallelujah” to.

“Not yet. He’s almost at the end of his life journey and is getting ready to begin his glorious afterlife in the arms of God.”

Rev rolled his eyes and sighed. “So, the fucker ain’t kicked the bucket yet.”

A sharp noise came through the phone. “You still have time to make things right between the two of you. You still have time to make things right with God. You can denounce the devil in your soul, Brother Michael.”

Rev ignored the devil and God shit. Instead, he concentrated on the bullshit of making things “right” between him and his father. “How’s he gonna make things right with me? He gonna apologize? He gonna let me do the things he did to me, and to Sarah, to him?”

More silence. Silence that was telling as fuck.

“Apologize for trying to raise you and your sister the way the good Lord intended?”

His stomach was churning right now. Abso-fuckin-lutely churning to the point of sharp pain. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s being tested by pancreatic cancer.”

Rev doubted pancreatic cancer was some sort of test from God. Even so, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. “You try a prayer circle? You all believe that’ll cure what ails ya.”

Matthew inhaled sharply. “I can see Satan’s tight hold on you is making you unwilling to take the healing steps I hoped for. You have a blessed day, nephew. I’m sorry about Sister Sarah. May she rest in peace and in the glory of God.”

“You’re not fuckin’ sorry!” Rev screamed into the phone even though his uncle had already hung up. “You’re not fuckin’ sorry,” he whispered, tossing his phone onto the picnic table. He dropped his head in his arms, felt a foreign sting in his eyes, and his breath stuttered. “You ain’t fuckin’ sorry at all.”

He started when a warm body pressed against him and fingers plucked gently at the spiky hair at the top of his head. He cleared the thick from his throat and blinked a few times to rid himself of the sting, then reluctantly lifted his head.

Reilly stood with a hip pressed to his arm and her big green eyes turned down toward him. “You okay?”

This wasn’t her being her normal nosy self. Genuine concern tinged her voice. That made the ball of tension in his chest grow until he thought it would burst through his skin.

“Yeah.”

“Liar.”

He didn’t put any energy behind his soft, “Go away, woman.”

Like he figured, she ignored him and, using his shoulder for balance, climbed between the attached wood bench and picnic table to sit next to him, wrapped an arm around his back and pressed her cheek into his bicep. “Bad news?”

The answer to that question wasn’t simple.

What he considered good news wasn’t the same as what others might. Most wouldn’t consider his father dying good news. To Rev, he knew it should’ve happened years ago. Preferably before he left and by his own hand. But back then he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take a life no matter how much he wanted to. How much he dreamed about it. Almost tasted it. But at fourteen, even fifteen, he didn’t have the balls to do it, he couldn’t follow through.

Now? Things would be different. So very fucking different.

What he considered bad news was the fact he’d been located. And he still didn’t know how. That bugged him since he doubted his uber-religious uncle was tech savvy. Worse, he never thought one of those severed ties would be tugged on in an attempt to pull him back.

Why was he even still thinking about this? It was his past, it should stay there, even if it involved blood.

Blood wasn’t always family. Blood could use the “good” word of God to be pure evil while wearing a mask of righteousness.

Sometimes what came out of one’s mouth didn’t reflect what was in one’s heart and soul. What was on the surface wasn’t the same as what was found at the very core. A piousness only skin deep.

Hypocrisy.

Deception.

Words he learned the true meaning of the older he got. When he looked back once he was free.

Now he recognized the brain-washing. The fight his parents took on to keep their children from having their own thoughts, their own beliefs. Their own free will.

Basically, their way was the only way. Any individual or differing thoughts would be beaten out of them.

With a switch, a belt, a large hand.

The “cleansings” didn’t last as long as the prayer circles.

Rev didn’t know which one he hated more. They were both miserable in their own way.

But it was what that bastard did to his sister that would never be forgivable. How his father took his sister’s cleansing a step further.

He needed to call her. Because he needed to share this with someone else. He couldn’t keep this to himself. If he did, he might explode.

He should order Reilly to go back inside. To go back to her office. To leave him the fuck alone. To let him deal with his personal demons by himself.

To allow him to keep his secrets as just that.

But he couldn’t tell her to go. Her being this quiet was a rarity since her attitude was normally larger than life. Surprisingly, that quiet strength as she leaned into him was what he needed right now.

Especially to make his next call.

He reached under the table, planted his hand on her thigh and squeezed. Her hand settled over his and they kept them there. Connected.

They both knew if someone came out and saw her arm around him, with his hand on her thigh, words would be said. Warnings given.

But at the moment he didn’t give a fuck.

Everyone else could fuck right off.

He stared at the phone in front of him. He left it on the table, scrolled through his contacts with one finger and found Saylor’s number. He pressed the Call symbol and then the speaker icon.

This should be a private conversation between him and his sister, but again, he didn’t give a fuck. In the back of his mind, he didn’t want to deal with this alone.

“I’m busy,” was Saylor’s abrupt answer.

“Busy doin’ what? Daisy’s at school.” Normally, he’d give her a rash of shit about her attitude, but he couldn’t muster up any right now.

However, her silence worried him.

“Busy doin’ what, Saylor? You up to no good?”

“Always,” she answered with a low chuckle.

He shook his head in frustration. “Don’t fuck up.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m serious, Saylor. You fuck up and Judge throws your ass out, you got nowhere to go.”

“I’ll just get my own place, then.”

Big dreams for both a broke and broken girl. “You can’t afford your own place.”

“I could if I got a real job.”

“Doin’ what you do is a real fuckin’ job, Saylor.” She had only recently obtained her GED due to Cassie’s insistence on it. Beyond that, and being a house mouse, his sister had no skills. At best, she’d get a job for minimum wage at some fast-food joint. At least being in Judge and Cassie’s household kept her busy, gave her responsibility and, even better, two more people looking out for her.

“It doesn’t pay anything, Mickey.”

“Judge gives you scratch.” It might not be a lot, but it was at least some spending money. Given too much, Rev worried what she’d do with it.

He did not want to find his sister OD’d in a fucking alley somewhere after snorting some hillbilly-made meth in order to forget the sins of their goddamn father.

“Yeah, like a damn allowance. Not enough to do anything fun.”

“Seriously, are you bitchin’ about your life right now?” Right now, it was the best she ever had. And she fucking knew it.

Her answer was more silence.

“Saylor.”

A long sigh. “No.”

“You got it good. It ain’t perfect but you’re part of a real family now. Family who cares about you takes care of you. Don’t shit on that.”

“Did you only call me to remind me to behave?”

“Don’t expect you to behave. Expect you to respect Judge and Cassie’s household. Respect them.”

“Whatever, brother. So, that’s why you interrupted me?”

“From doin’ what?”

“Watching porn.”

He wasn’t sure how to react to that. But Reilly slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the noise that almost escaped. He twisted his head to see the corners of her eyes wrinkled up and tears in her eyes.

“What the fuck, Mickey!” came through the phone. “You actually thought I’d answer the phone in the middle of watching porn?” She laughed. “I was cleaning up the kitchen. And believe me, I love you, brother, but I’m not sharing my porn-watching schedule with you.”

“Thank fuck for that,” he grumbled.

Reilly made a cute little squeak and bumped her shoulder into his.

“Who’s listening in?”

“What?”

“You have me on speaker phone, I heard a female. Did you play hooky from work today to get laid instead?”

“No.” He shot another quick glance at the blonde smashed against him, her big soft tits now pressed into his arm. He did a quick check to see if her nipples were hard. “It’s Reilly.”

“Hey, sweet cheeks!” Saylor yelled through the phone.

“Hey, girl!” Reilly called back, now wearing a grin.

“Is my brother boning you right now?”

“No, we’re at the garage,” Reilly answered with an exaggerated pout. As if Saylor could see her. Rev shook his head.

“Oh, damn. I hoped you two would hook up.”

“Saylor. Jesus fuck. Don’t say shit like that,” Rev growled.

“Why? It’s true. You two would make beautiful babies.”

“Fuck! I ain’t havin’ babies. We’re not hookin’ up. That’s not why the fuck I’m callin’.”

She laughed. “So, then, spit it the hell out, big brother. Cassie wants me to put together some meal in the Crockpot—”

“Yeah, okay, don’t give a fuck about Crockpots. Got somethin’ more important to tell you.”

“What’s more important than Cream Cheese Chicken over rice? That shit is banging. Just like you two should be doing.”

“Didn’t know you wanted your brother to die,” Rev said dryly.

“Reilly, your pussy is worth dying for, right?” Saylor asked. “I bet she’s got a bomb ass pussy.”

“Saylor!” Rev yelled, now avoiding looking at Reilly who was laughing so hard she was crying. “Need to tell you somethin’. Stop fuckin’ around.”

“Okay, what? Spill. Wait. Hey, Reilly, you need to come to The Barn tonight. We need to get smashed and then have a contest on which one of us can get more of the guys to pop boners without us even touching them.”

“What the fuck,” Rev muttered. “She ain’t comin’ to The Barn for that shit. You two ain’t gettin’ smashed and you better not be fuckin’ with the guys like that. Especially those goddamn prospects. Don’t be the reason I gotta slice one of those fuckers’ throats for steppin’ out of line ‘cause you’re fuckin’ teasin’ them.”

“You’re no fun.”

Rev sucked in a long breath to cool off his temper.

“I’ll text you later,” Reilly said.

He twisted his head toward her. “The fuck you will.”

Reilly frowned.

So did he.

“Okay, I have shit to do. What do you want, brother, if you’re not calling me to tell me that you and Reilly are knocking boots?”

Rev sighed. He needed to get this conversation back on track so he could get it out and over with. “Got a phone call.”

“So?”

“Matthew called.”

Dead silence followed. After a few seconds, he heard a shuddered breath. Yeah, for Saylor, suddenly this phone call was no longer fun and games. “Why?”

“Said the motherfucker’s dyin’.”

Reilly jerked against him and the hand covering his on her thigh squeezed tight.

His sister simply answered with, “Good.”

“He wants me to go there.”

“He who?”

“Matthew.”

In the silence that followed, Rev could hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

Finally, Saylor asked quietly, “Just you?”

“Told them you were dead.”

Reilly gasped and Saylor made a choking sound.

Rev quickly added, “They don’t know you’re here with me,” to help prevent any panic.

It wasn’t fear or panic he heard in her voice, it was seething anger when she asked, “Why the fuck would they want you there? Why would he?”

Rev scraped a thumbnail across his forehead and sighed, struggling to keep his own anger in check. “Don’t know. Think our uncle contacted me on his own. Our wonderful, lovin’ father probably don’t know. ‘Cause I can’t imagine he asked for me.” If he asked for anyone, it would be for Saylor.

.

“You’re not going, are you?”

He twisted a hand back and forth along the back of his neck. “Don’t know.”

“Well, I’m glad you told them I’m dead because there’s no way you’ll catch me near that fucking place. The next time I see that bastard, it’ll be in hell.”

The call ended but not before he heard her sob.

Did he make a mistake by telling her? Maybe he should’ve left her in the dark and not drug out the nightmare of her past.

But then, maybe he shouldn’t have returned Matthew’s call in the first place.

Why did he?

Why?

Worse, why would he even about going back there?

If he did, could he even do it alone? Without Saylor? But, in truth, he’d never force her to go. To take her back to the place that caused her nightmares.

Caused them both nightmares for years.

He had successfully put it all behind him.

Until the phone call.

If he was smart, he wouldn’t go.

If he was smart, he never would have called Matthew back.

If he was smart, he would’ve burned that note.

Apparently, someone forgot to remind him that he wasn’t smart.