ALWAYS (A Wolfe Brothers Novel) Read online

  Cam bent at the waist and braced his hands on his thighs. “Tony didn’t drown. I held the fucker’s head under the water until I was sure he was dead. And I’d do it again.”

  “You probably saved Ajay’s life.”

  “For too long, I didn’t protect my little brother from that bastard. How pathetic is that?”

  “Pathetic is not a word I would ever use to describe you.”

  The silver in Jags’ eyes shimmered, which meant more voodoo freaky shit was coming. Jags’ bore into Cam. The last time Jags attempted to ‘see’ him, Jags’ fell into a week-long coma. Cam’s stepbrother was extremely sensitive to—what Jags called—the dark side of a person’s psyche.

  Determined to keep Jags out of his psyche, aura, chi, whatever-the-fuck Jags called it, Cam looked at the ceiling. “Last week I got rear-ended in the Expedition. Turns out it was some old geezer. Couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds.” Cam covered his mouth with his fist. “I knocked on his window but before I could say a word, the old man burst into tears.”

  Jags cocked his head, a clear expression of boredom. “Get to the part where you decide death is the only option for you.”

  “He pissed himself!”

  “Well, you’re huge. I probably would’ve pissed myself too if I didn’t know you better, and your ‘fuck off’ expression doesn’t help either. I know you’re out of practice, but try a smile every once in a while.”

  Cam pushed off the wall and paced. “The same demon that made Tony hurt Ajay is in me. I’ve felt it all my thirty-three years. I’ve held it back. ” Cam faced Jags. “I’m tired of fighting it. And if I stop fighting it, I’ll end up hurting somebody, somebody who doesn’t deserve it, somebody like that old geezer who fender-bendered the Expedition.” He resumed pacing. “Gramps needs me and I’d hate to leave him, but I won’t become Tony. I’d rather blow my own fuckin’ head off, before I let that happen.” Cam leaned against the wall, propped a foot behind and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “We may not be blood,” Jags said. “But you are my brother and I know you would never hurt anyone. I don’t need my visions to tell me that.”

  “That doesn’t mean—.”

  Jags cleared his throat. “Adrian cheated on Ajay. I never read her aura, I just sensed she was a conniving little witch and I was right. Some people’s auras are so wicked, I don’t need to be touching them to see the black of their soul.”

  “You know that kind of talk freaks me out.”

  “Right now, I don’t give a shit. I was right about the waitress at Stoney’s that had a crush on you. I steered her clear. I was right about—”

  “Get to the point!”

  “I see people for what they are. I’ve never been wrong. And you—” He pointed. “—my friend, are not evil.”

  “If you see—” Cam made air quotes. “—people so well, how come you nearly fainted when I told you your girlfriend asked me to fuck her in the backseat of your truck?”

  Jags dropped his gaze to the floor. He whispered, “Hitting below the belt, buddy.”

  “I’d call her a cunt, but she lacks the depth and warmth.”

  Jags looked up and narrowed eyes at him. “We’re getting off topic. My point is that if you were a monster, like Tony, I would have sensed it. You think I could be around you, if your soul was colored with the same kind of evil that painted Tony’s?”

  Cam tapped the back of his head against the wall. “You just don’t get it.”

  “What I get is that you need a solid fucking.”

  Cam groaned. “We’re not goin’ there.”

  Five years ago, Cam had walked in on his girlfriend fucking a bald-headed punk and he beat the guy until the police pulled him off. The fucker lay in a coma for a week. Worth every one of the hundred and seventy-six days he served in Huntsville State Prison but not an experience he cared to repeat.

  To keep others safe, Cam vowed a life of celibacy and solitude. He had no friends. The only people he gave a damn about were his family.

  Jags said, “Did you know that societies where premarital sex is discouraged have more crime and incidents of violence?”

  Clasping his hands behind his head, Cam traipsed back and forth, his boots thudding on the floor. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that your aggression worsened when you decided to keep your pecker to yourself? Need more reasons to keep your head on your shoulders?” Jags counted on his fingers. “I’ll give you a few. Gramps. Dad. Ajay. And yours truly.” In front of his mouth, Jags steepled his fingers. “I’ll admit that you have great pain hiding in your psyche.”

  “Enough with the psycho-babble bullshit! I killed my own father and don’t have an ounce of regret.”

  Jags hung his head and snickered. “If you had no regret, I would see black in your soul.” He pierced Cam with that familiar all-knowing, cocky look. “Give me a year. If you’re still convinced you’re a menace, I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Cam gave him a sidelong look. “You expect me to believe that load of horseshit?”

  “The details of the plan.” Jags counted on his fingers. “First, you’re going to get laid, as soon as possible. Second, you’re gonna get off your ass and make the repairs needed on the old Copper Creek place and turn it into the best restaurant this side of Houston. You need a life other than taking care of Gramps.”

  “I won’t leave him alone.”

  “Lest I remind you that less than an hour ago you were prepared to shoot your brains out, thus leaving him very alone.”

  Cam shook his head. “I cannot hammer nails into a wall, stock glassware and plan a dinner menu if I’m constantly worried about Gramps.”

  “Gramps won’t be alone.” Looking at his counting fingers, Jags said, “Leave that to me.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  With three large and graceful strides, Jags crossed the room and set his hand on Cam’s shoulder. Heat warmed the muscles in Cam’s neck and arms. His legs weakened. An invigorating chill ran through him, like taking a deep breath after sucking on a peppermint; except his whole body felt electrified, not just his mouth.

  Cam collapsed onto his ass. “How the hell do you do that?”

  Jags crouched and bounced on his haunches. “It might have something to do with all the pussy I get. It doesn’t leave room for aggression, only peace, a peace I am more than happy to transfer to you.” Jags offered his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  The deep blue returned to Jags’ eyes. His stepbrother was back to himself, minus the freaky shit.

  Cam grimaced. “I don’t know how to live.”

  “I’m going to teach you.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “One year.”

  Cam sighed.

  “Please.” Jags nodded at his own outstretched hand.

  Jags didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve. He showcased them in neon flashing lights. His unearthly compassion might as well have been stamped on his forehead. He wasn’t an open book; more like a 3D IMAX blockbuster.

  Jags waggled his fingers, urging Cam to accept his hand. His eyes glimmered with moisture. “One year.”

  Cam laced his fingers behind his neck. “I don’t want to cause you any pain.”

  “Hearing you nearly blew your head off, blew a cannon through the center of my chest. It was kind of painful. Now stitch me up. Accept my hand and give me one fucking year.” Tilting his head, he flashed a wide smile, teeth clenched, like a child forced to smile for school pictures.

  Cam shook Jags’ hand and clapped him on the shoulder. “Brothers.”

  Jags curled his fingers around Cam’s forearm. “Always.”

  Chapter Three

  Four days and nothing. Cam hadn’t heard from or seen Jags. Normally, they spoke two or three times a day and if not, he’d surely get an in-person visit. What if he was sick? Had he been in a car accident?

  Cam crossed the cavernous living room into the kitche
n. He washed his hands and dried them on his jeans. Pressing his palms on the yellow cracked counter, he hung his head and sighed.

  Until now, he hadn’t realized how much he took Jags’ visits and phone calls for granted.

  Dammit!

  As he slid his phone from his pocket and dialed Jags’ number, he heard the unmistakable rumble of Jags’ loud exhaust. He pressed the red oval ending the call.

  His stepbrother bounced through the door and entered the kitchen. Cam leaned back, his ankles crossed and his hands gripping the edge of the counter behind him.

  “You need a life too.” Jags yanked open the refrigerator.

  “Get me one.”

  “A life or a beer?”

  “Never had a life,” Cam said. “Just need a beer.”

  Jags retrieved two bottles, shut the door and popped the caps. “Sit. We need to talk.”

  “I hate when you say that.”

  Jags set the bottles on the table, turned a chair and straddled it. Balancing his chin on the chair back, he said, “What? That dreaded four-letter word?” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Talk.”

  “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “I’m on my lunch hour.”

  Cam pulled a foil-topped dish from the refrigerator. He put the casserole in the microwave, set the timer and plunked down in a chair.

  “Is that the spicy chicken and sausage casserole?” Jags asked.

  “Meatloaf.”

  Jags rubbed his hands together. “Fantastic.”

  “Talk.”

  “I think we should hire a visiting nurse to help you with Gramps.”

  Heat flashed through Cam’s body. His pulse raced. A blinding headache blurred his vision. “No.” Cam inhaled a deep breath, pushing the rage back. Rubbing his temples, he said, “His mind slips further every day. Things you’d never suspect, tip his world upside down, and a stranger wouldn’t know how to deal.”

  “Like what?”

  “A game of checkers will bring him to tears and only one thing will help. A shot of Chivas.”

  “I thought that was his and Mee Maw’s favorite game?”

  “Yup. He breaks down every time he’s reminded of her. A year after she and mom disappeared, I took down all her photographs and boxed up her clothes. He still breaks down . . . just not as often.” Cam stopped rubbing his temples. He grimaced and looked his brother up and down. “You’ve lost more weight.”

  “I can’t shake the nightmarish visions. I know it's something to do with Mee Maw and Mom’s disappearance. Every time the vision comes close to conclusion I black out.” Jags paused. A weak smiled formed on his face. “But I’m getting closer to figuring it out. I know now that two people were involved.” Jags pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. “As soon as I begin to feel Mee Maw’s and mom’s suffering I snap out of it and then—”

  “Let’s not do this. I prefer you conscious and alert not comatose.”

  Jags blew out a breath. “You’re right.” The bell dinged on the microwave. He wiped a tear from his cheek, grabbed a fork and the casserole the plunked down at the table. “Where were we?”

  “Checkers.”

  “Right,” Jags said. “We’ll make sure they know not to play checkers with him.”

  “What happens when he starts quoting lines from Richard III, or starts singing Chances Are? I’ll tell you what’ll happen. They’ll try to admit him to a loony bin.” He pointed. “Which I will never let happen.” Cam gulped his beer. “Besides, we can’t afford it and I’m managing fine on my own.”

  “He’s not even your grandfather.” Jags leapt to his feet. “I can’t believe I just said that.” He scrunched his long hair in his hands.

  Years ago, the marriage between Cam’s mother and Jags’ father melded their families. Biologically, Gramps and Jags was no relation to Cam, but Cam loved them like family. Until now, he thought the feeling was mutual. “Neither can I.” Cam took another swig. He set the bottle down harder than he’d intended.

  Jags clapped Cam on the back. “I’m sorry.”

  Cam shrugged off the gesture. “You could’ve called. You didn’t have to drive all the way over here.”

  “You’re ten minutes from work and if I called,” Jags sat down and shoveled more meatloaf into his mouth, “I’d be eating a microwaved hamburger and cold French fries in the cafeteria right now.”

  Cam slouched and waited for his brother to inhale more food than he and Gramps combined could’ve eaten.

  When Jags devoured the last bite, he slid the dish away.

  Cam asked, “Why a visiting nurse when I’m handling things fine on my own?”

  “The plan was to get you a life other than Gramps. You never leave here. You don’t work. You don’t play. You don’t date.”

  “You know why I don’t date.”

  “Yes well, that’s a fight for another day,” Jags said. “Today, I just want to get you to have a beer with me.”

  “We are having a beer.”

  “I was thinking of a place with pool tables, country music, and scantily clad ladies.” Jags glanced around the room. His nose scrunched. “A place that smells like stale beer and cigarettes, not old people funk.”

  “I don’t smell anything.”

  “You need to get out more than I thought.”

  “We’re done here.” Cam strode to the doorway and with his back against the door jamb propped a foot behind and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Jags brought his plate and fork to the sink and nodded as he passed. “I gotta get back to work.”

  “Jags?”

  Pausing in the doorway, he looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “I mean it,” Cam said. “No visiting nurse.”

  Jags winked and closed the door behind him. “See you at six.”

  “Jaaaaaaags!”

  # # #

  Rane glanced at the room number and back at the postcard. Approaching room 21B, he opened the door and entered. The room housed five round tables that each sat six people. A blue folder was set before each seat. A crisply dressed man, probably the instructor, sat in a cushioned chair at the front of the room.

  Rane chose a table in the corner. His boss had requested he attend the seminar. Star felt he needed to improve his communication skills and be more social. Problem was he had no interest in making friends. He valued privacy and solitude.

  As the room filled with more people, Rane used the complimentary pen and doodled on the back of his folder. He sketched the face of the only person he’d ever loved—his mother. Thin lips. Sunken cheeks. Pale complexion. The cancer had stolen the sparkle in her eyes and the warmth of her skin. He scowled at his depiction of his sickly mother. Tightening his grip, he stabbed the pen into the folder and scribbled over the drawing.

  To clear his mind, he approached a nearby water cooler and poured himself a cup. As he sipped he noticed a young woman entering the room.

  Rane shook his head. Too fat. He took his seat and studied the door, watching more people arrive.

  Another woman entered.

  He shook his head. Too old.

  The well-dressed man stood and stepped behind a wooden pedestal. “Welcome to Successful Communications in the Workplace. I’m Lorenzo Parker and I’ll be your instructor for the next three days. Working amicably and effectively with others can be one of the most challenging aspects of your job.”

  A woman with shoulder-length brown hair entered the room. She gave the class and instructor an apologetic grin and took a seat near the front of the room.

  “Especially,” Mr. Parker continued. “If you work with someone who consistently arrives late.” He gave her a smile and turned his focus back to the room. “Inside your folder, you’ll find a stack of papers, the first being a questionnaire. I’ll give you twenty minutes to complete it.” He looked at his watch. “And the clock starts now.”

  Everyone removed their questionnaires. The papers rustled in unison.

  Rane’s focu
s drifted to the woman who’d arrived late. Her name was Jewel Albright and she had made the fourth, fifth and sixth grade a living hell. After searching for years, a stroke of dumb chance had brought her to him. He should buy a lottery ticket.

  Four hours passed and he hadn’t heard a word the instructor said. His mind raced with visions of all the ways he planned to fuck her. Usually, he kept a woman for a month or so, before handing her to his friend Kipp. But Jewel was different. He may keep her for a while and make Kipp wait.

  Assorted breads, deli meats, cheeses were brought in for lunch. Rane watched Jewel fix herself a plate. When she passed him on her way back to her seat, she said, “Anybody ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

  “Thought I recognized you.”

  “I’m certain we’ve never met.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  The smirk on her face mirrored the expression she gave him long ago, the day the bullies of the school beat him, stripped him nude and tied him to the flag pole.

  Jewel was the first to walk by, probably because her boyfriend Ajay had bragged about their misdeed. When everyone else just chanced a brief look, she stopped, pointed at his penis and laughed. Using a black Sharpie, Jewel drew a down arrow on his stomach. Above the arrow, she wrote ‘supersize me’.

  After the sixth grade, Jewel and her family moved away and he hadn’t seen her since. Not until today. And as luck would have it, she didn’t recognize him.

  Rane waited for everyone to get their food before approaching the long table. Bypassing the meats and cheeses, he filled his plate with three mini chocolate cupcakes, two peanut butter cookies and one sugar cookie then carried his plate to his seat. His hand hovered over a peanut butter cookie then glided over a chocolate mini cupcake. Smiling, he selected the sugar cookie and took a bite. The sweet goodness overloaded his sensitive taste buds. He moaned.

  My sweet.

  Chapter Four

  After sliding a tuna casserole into the oven, Cam carried his beer to the living room and plopped onto the couch. Reclining in his armchair, Gramps fought his exhaustion. His lids shut and flickered open. Cam stifled his laughter.