Page 12 of Throw Down

His brother took a giant swig of iced tea and licked his lips before replying.“Jennie’s got the flu, so I'm dropping the kids off at scouts.I was supposed to work on Mrs. Cooper’s fridge tonight, but she was a no-show.”

As a general contractor, James wasn’t technically licensed to repair appliances, but that had never stopped him.Tinkering with gadgets was his life.Folks would rather slip him some cash under the table than wait weeks for a factory-authorized technician to finally make it out to their rural area.Besides, it was practically a cultural phenomenon in Sweetwater to pay an Owens kid whenever work needed to be done.They’d been scrounging for odd jobs ever since they were old enough to hang onto a rake.All except the baby of the family.

Derek’s youngest brother, West, only had one duty, and that was staying alive.His rare congenital heart defect hadn’t killed him, but it sure as hell put the final nail in the coffin of Derek's short childhood.

Their family had settled in Sweetwater more than a century ago, but the only thing they'd inherited was a scrap of useless land and a hefty dose of generational poverty. West's surgeries bankrupted the family, and their father was forced to leave home and work the oil rigs just to keep the debt collectors at bay.He failed. With their mother in a constant state of nervous breakdown, it was up to the kids to keep the lights on and food on the table.Between the two of them, Susan and Bethanie had babysat nearly every kid in town.James had worked after school jobs for pocket money until he got an early work permit.Then he harvested livestock down at the poultry farm.To this day, he still turned a little green whenever he handled raw chicken.

But as the eldest, it was Derek who grew up overnight.

He was twelve the day he first climbed behind the wheel of their beat-up station wagon to drive his brother to the hospital.His hands were shaking the whole time.He still remembered the awful sound of his mother performing CPR from the back seat.

At thirteen, he quit school to haul rocks full-time down at the slate quarry.

When he was fourteen, he taught himself how to build a combustion engine from a library book and old parts,and he was fifteen when he got picked up at the scrapyard where he’d spend the rest of his life.

Bill collectors. Braces. Broken bones.Broken hearts. Somehow, Derek had managed it all.He'd bullied each of his siblings through their own high school graduations.But his role as head of the family didn't end there.

It never ended.

So, he watched his brother suspiciously as he sat there, happily eating the gooey heart out of his cinnamon roll.There wasn't a chance in hell that James had accidentally stumbled upon him.

“What do you need?” he asked wearily.

James took his time licking frosting from the side of his thumb.“Me? Nuthin’.”

Derek waited.

“Buuuuut...” James drew the word out with great reluctance.“Susan’s van broke down near the Stop n’ Shop.Figured you’d want to know.”

“And you just left her there?” he asked furiously.

James shrugged, aggravatingly unfazed by his temper.“She wouldn’t even let me peek under the hood.Said she was waiting for Ian to get off work.”

“What the hell does she think he’s going to do?” Derek asked acidly.“That husband of hers can’t even change his own oil.”

He was out the door before James managed to cram the last bite of dessert in his mouth.His brother scrambled after him and nearly collided with Wade Guthrie on his way out.

“Watch it!” Wade snarled. He shoulder-checked James and sent him reeling, but Derek was there to steady him with a hand on his back.

Wade’s bloodshot eyes narrowed, and he jerked his unshaven chin in greeting.“Owens.”

“Wade,” Derek said flatly.

“Haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Nope.”

Wade’s body oriented toward him, like a hound pointing at a scent, completely ignoring James.He was only a few years older than Derek, but hard living had carved deep into his face, and he always looked as if he were coated in a thin layer of grime.

“You hear about Sutter?” he asked.

“I try not to,” Derek said wryly.

“He’s out on bond.” Wade slid a dismissive glance toward James and added cagily, “Word is he’s got some parts to move if you’re interested.”

Derek didn’t react, but he felt a muscle twitch at the corner of his eye.He avoided looking at James, but he could sense how closely his brother was watching—and listening.

Ronald Sutter and Wade Guthrie were trash.Always had been. Dumber than a box of rocks, but crafty, and they had ways of making money that Derek had once desperately needed.It hadn't been hard to look the other way when they asked him to strip parts off their mysterious supply of junk cars.Not when the cash flowing from their greasy fingers kept food on his family's table.