Page 4 of The Bad Brother

“ F AR AS WE CAN TELL, THERE WAS A short in the truck’s wiring,” Colt says before I have a chance to ask. Colt is Sera’s older brother and Cade’s twin. “Driver said he’d been fighting with it since Dallas.”

Still doesn’t explain why he didn’t see the bus—whose headlights were working just fine—or what he was doing driving a fifty-thousand-pound juggernaut with faulty wiring, in the dead of night.

Whatever the answers are, they’re none of my business. I already gave my statement to Colt, who also happens to be Barrett county sheriff. That’s all I can do.

The three of us were pulling survivors from the wreckage and leading them over to the parking lot.

Within the hour the Barrett Creek’s Ladies Auxiliary had a tent set up and were passing out blankets, water, and hot coffee to banged-up passengers while they waited their turn to get checked out by paramedics.

“It’s what Tank would’ve done.” That’s how I run this place. How I earn the right to call it mine. I do what the man who gave it to me would’ve done.

Colt makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat.

“Bus was headed back east,” he tells me, arms crossed over his chest while he watches his little sister wrap a sobbing child in her own flannel jacket.

“Driver’s dead—killed instantly. So are the ten passengers that were struck at the point of impact.

Truck driver’s a little banged-up but he’ll live. ”

Jesus.

Swiping a rough hand over my face I let out a tired sigh. “How many survivors?”

“Sixty-three,” Colt says quietly. “Almost half of them were transported to Barrett County Memorial.”

If you’re going to have a catastrophic accident in a podunk, Texas town—Barrett is the place to do it. Thanks to our rich neighbors across the bridge, we have access to one of the best hospitals in the state and it’s equipped with a brand-new, state-of-the-art trauma center.

“Think any of them will make it?” It’s a morbid question but I ask it anyway.

“They’ve got a better than fair chance,” he says with a grim smile.

“The trauma team is top notch and their head surgeon is one of the best in the country.” He goes quiet for a second before he speaks again.

“These people don’t have anywhere to go, Jensen.

Bus company says its going to take time to get their buses rerouted so they can get one down here and get these people home,” he tells me quietly.

“I reached out to Dave Gaston about putting them up for a night or two but you know how he is.”

Yeah—I know how Dave is. He owns the only motel in town and he’s a stingy old bastard. He’d sell his own mother for a shiny nickel.

“Call him again,” I say without thinking twice.

“Tell him it’s paid for.” Colt stares at me for a few seconds like I just said the last thing he expected.

No one knows exactly how much money I have but I just gave Colt a pretty fair idea.

“Afterward, ask Cade to call the principal over at the elementary school and see if we can borrow a bus to get them over there—” Cade is the night janitor at Barrett Elementary, Sunday through Thursday.

“and then take them both home.” Cade and Sera both have kids and their regular shift ended hours ago.

“Don’t worry about Gunner and Scarlet,” Colt tells me on a soft chuckle. “Mom’s got ‘em. They’ll wake up tomorrow to Saturday morning cartoons and bottomless chocolate chip pancakes.”

Hearing Colt talk about his mom reminds me of my own. Reminds me that my entire family is on the other side of the bridge, celebrating my brother’s engagement at their fancy country club like I don’t even exist.

Those people are not your family.

They were never your family.

Like he can read my mind, Colt gives me a sidelong glance. “Reese busted a couple of creekers for drunk driving,” he tells me in a casual tone. “They told her they were coming from here.”

“Well, they weren’t lyin’,” I say with a shrug. “Showed up around nine. Strutted around the pool table like a couple of near-sighted peacocks for about an hour before they left.”

Colt lets out a loud bark of laughter that draws more than one disapproving glare. Smothering the rest of the sound with his hand and a muttered sorry , he shakes his head. “Well, that explains it.”

“Explains what?” I ask, even though I think I already know.

“One of them told Reese the owner of the Barrett Mill got them both drunk and robbed them.” Even though it’s a serious accusation, Colt doesn’t sound like he’s taking it seriously at all.

“They were already drunk when they got here,” I say in a low tone so as not to draw any more angry looks from the Ladies’ Auxiliary.

“And I didn’t rob them. I hustled them.” When all he does is stare at me, I feel my face fold into a scowl.

I hate it when he pulls that cop shit on me and he knows it.

“I offered to have Austin drive them home.” It’s a bold-faced lie but I tell it without hesitation.

Austin will back my play. He always does. Without fail and without question.

Before I can ask him if I need to worry about it, Colt shakes his head on another quiet laugh. “Reese found open containers all over the car,” he tells me with a calm down gesture. “As for the money—” he shrugs. “As far as I’m concerned, it was a toll for crossing the bridge.”

I took two grand off them in less than a half hour.

Each .

That’s a hell of a toll.

“Look—” unfolding one of his arms, Colt slaps me on the back. “I’m not trying to bust your balls. Just trying to give you a friendly warning that you’re back on their radar. Might be a good idea to take a vacation. Give ‘em some time to forget about you again.”

Forget about me again.

They forgot about me the second I was led out of that courtroom in handcuffs. The only one who can’t seem to forget about me is my brother, and that little dickhead can go fuck himself.

“Yeah…” I shake my head, trying to temper my tone because stick-up-his-ass or not, Colt is a friend. More than a friend, he’s family. All he’s trying to do is what he thinks is best for me. “I’m not doin’ that.”

“I didn’t think so.” Colt gives me a flat smile. “If you’re serious about the motel, I’ll call Dave so we can start the ball rolling on getting these people somewhere warm and safe for the night.”

“I’m serious.” I give him a head nod. “I’ll go find Cade and tell him to get us a bus so we can get everyone over there.”

Planned formed and tasks assigned, Colt and I walk away from each other so we can get shit done.

AN HOUR LATER, THE PARKING LOT IS empty, save for the tent, left behind by Mrs. Lawrence from the Ladies’ Auxiliary, with a promise to collect it in the morning. Since I don’t really care about it either way, I told her she can leave it there for as long as she needed to.

Sending Cade and Sera home to their kids and giving Austin orders to drive River back to her place in town, I finally stagger back inside around sunrise.

The place is a wreck.

Chairs overturned. Broken glasses and beer bottles litter the floor. Cocktail napkins smeared with lipstick and half chewed straws scattered across the bar. More than a couple of jackets and purses left behind.

Fuck it. I’ll deal with it in the morning.

Locking the doors, both front and back, I stagger upstairs and down the short hallway that separates my apartment from the loft I spent sixteen months renovating for a woman who said yes to marrying me but couldn’t quite manage to keep her mouth off other guys’ dicks.

Bet she would’ve stayed faithful if you threw her an engagement party at the country club.

Turning away from the loft, I jam my key into the lock of my own apartment, barely giving it a twist before I shoulder barge my way inside. Slamming the door behind me without bothering to re-lock it, I toss my keys on the coffee table on my way to the bathroom.

Cranking on the shower, I set the temperature to scalding before I strip as fast as I can, stepping under the heavy spray.

Bracing my hand against the shower wall, I bend my head, letting the hot water pound my sore muscles into submission, standing there for several minutes before reluctantly finding the soap and scrubbing away the last twelve hours .

Clean and exhausted, I dry off before slinging my damp towel around my waist to make my way into my bedroom.

Through the partially open curtains, I can see the parking lot that doesn’t look much better than the bar downstairs.

There’s probably a hundred paper cups and empty water bottles down there.

Deciding that’s another problem for future Jensen to deal with, I jerk the curtains closed and flop, face first, onto my unmade bed, asleep before I even make contact.