Page 249 of Five Brothers

Army darts his eyes to me, and I open the glove compartment, pulling out a pair of black leather gloves.

“For everything,” I tell him, pulling them on. “It’s all yours as much as mine. You can take anything you want.”

He steals glances at me, trying to watch the road.

I swallow through the needles in my throat. “Just not her, okay?”

He’s quiet. He doesn’t say anything.

He’s mad.

But then he says, “I want my own room.”

I smile to myself.

Yeah, I guess it’s ridiculous he shares a room with Dex.

“You get first dibs,” I assure him.

The new addition will be ready before the summer. Mars is sharing a room with his little sister right now, but he’ll also need his own space. As will Iron when he comes home. That leaves two rooms left.

“It’s a bad time of year,” Trace tells us. “Water levels will be low, and the gators—”

“He won’t be found,” I say.

I know what he’s worried about, but we’ve done this once before. Not dozens of times like the rumors say. Once.

Nothing makes it out of the swamp.

We coast back into the Bay, around the village center, and deep into the dark green brush. Willows and oaks spill onto water shimmering in the faint moonlight, and rain spatters the dark surface. A wake is kicked up as an animal moves underneath the water.

We pull alongside the road, park, and exit the vehicle, walking to the wooden bridge in the black forest.

Milo Price sits on his knees in the middle, Santos gripping the back of his collar.

I stop in front of them, my brothers behind me. “Where was he?” I ask Santos.

“The motel.”

I look down at the piece of shit who tried to assault my sister, and who made Krisjen bleed. The motel isn’t a brothel, but he acts like it is.

It’s a good place to disappear for a few hours, though. Guys like him can afford fancy hotel rooms, but the sleaze of a seedy, well-used mattress is half the turn-on for them.

I gaze at the scar running down the side of his face. My sister’s girlfriend did that, but that was never the end of it. He should’ve known we’d come for him eventually. We don’t trust St. Carmen police to protect anyone but St. Carmen assholes.

Milo smiles at me. “You had to wait for me to come over here.”

I nod. “Traffic cams and such.”

There are cameras everywhere. If they track his last location, they can track him to us, but when he comes to the Bay, traffic cams lose sight of him long before he crosses the tracks. From there he could’ve gone anywhere. There’s no proof that he came here.

“Well, let’s get it over with,” he spits out. “It’ll take more than five of you to give me a beating I can’t take.”

“I’m not going to hit you.”

His smile falters, but still … he doesn’t seem afraid.

Santos hands me a hunting knife, heat coursing down my arms as I take it. I squeeze my fist around the hilt.