Fire & Dark (The Night Horde SoCal Book 3) (9 page)

They’d come close once, a couple of years ago, when they’d been up on Big Bear and an unexpected rain had driven them into the tent early. They’d spent the night drinking terrible wine they’d picked up at a convenience store on their way up, and they’d ended up making out for about three minutes.

At which point, they’d dissolved into drunken giggles and then passed out. So no. They weren’t into each other. It would be like fucking her brother. If she had a brother she actually liked.

“How’s he doing?”

Pilar had told Moore about Hugo, giving a highly edited version of the story—no showdown at the High Life, no Night Horde shield, no threat to her personally. But her friend knew enough about her brother to know that he was always in some kind of shit soup, so she’d told him that he’d gotten in bad with the Assassins and had landed in the hospital because of it.

“I called Nana earlier. He’s awake and doing okay. They’re keeping him for a couple of days, and then he’ll be home moaning for Nana to wipe his ass, but he’ll live. Probably lost his job, though. That was the best job he’d had for a while.”

“I’m telling you, that kid needs to join up.” Moore hadn’t served in the military, but his younger brother, Jude—who also had his challenges getting along in the world—had enlisted in the Army a couple of years out of high school. The main reason he’d enlisted had been to hurt their mom when she’d tried to put her foot down. He’d succeeded at that. But actually serving had turned him around.

“He’s not a kid. He’s twenty-five.”

“Not too old to enlist.”

“Unless we can roofie him and throw him on a C-5, I think it’s not going to happen. Besides, it’d kill Nana. She thinks he’ll straighten out. As long as she keeps Assassins ink off of him, she thinks he’ll find his way.”

While Moore took a sponge and wiped down the counter, Pilar took the special cleaner to clean the table. It was a big, oblong pine table. The emblems of their station, of their district, and of their profession had all been carved into it, with the founding date carved at the head. 1913, when the livery stable first housed a fire engine. They didn’t wipe that table down with just a wet sponge.

“She’s wrong, you know. If he’s not turning around yet, he’s going to keep going in the direction he’s in. And that’s down.”

Pilar knew that. Of course she knew that. And deep down, her grandmother knew it, too. But it infuriated her that an outsider was standing there with a lime-green sponge in his hand and handing down judgments. Even an outsider that was closer to the inside than any other. Maybe he was too fucking close.

“Butt out, Moore. Didn’t ask for your opinion or your help.”

He glared at her through the hanging pots and pans for a second, and then he nodded and went back to his work.

~oOo~

The next morning, after a quiet night without a call, Pilar and Moore made plans to meet up in the afternoon, ride out to Joshua Tree, and set up camp in preparation for an early-morning climb. No hard feelings had lingered after their terse exchange in the kitchen; by the time they’d turned out the lights and headed up to the rec room, they’d been fine. They understood each other, and they didn’t take their disagreements to heart.

After the new watch came in, Pilar changed into her street clothes and rode to the hospital. When she got up to Hugo’s room, her brother was having breakfast, and their grandmother was fussing around, unpacking an overnight bag.

Hugo noticed her right away and set his carton of milk back on his tray. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She came into the room and closed the door. Hugo looked terrible. His face was a swollen mess, and he had sutured lacerations across his nose and along his chin. His chest and arms were wrapped in bandages. Pilar knew he had a serious concussion, too, but he looked alert, his eyes focused inside his swollen, darkened face.

“I’m glad you’re here,
mija
. Dolores brought things from home, but I need to run out for some things Hughie wants. Can you stay with him?”

Dolores was their grandmother’s next door neighbor and good friend. “Sure. But if you’d called, I could have picked it up, whatever it is.” But she wouldn’t mind a chance to talk to her brother alone. They had some things to get straight.

“You know I hate to bother you at work. I don’t mind. I’d like to get out in the sunshine for a bit.”

Pilar picked up a wedge of white toast from her brother’s tray. “Okay. Take your time. I don’t have plans until later. Kyle and I are going out to Joshua Tree tonight.”

“Oh, that sounds fun. Kyle is such a good boy. And handsome, too.”

“Yeah, yeah, Nana. You should ask him out, since you’re so into him.”

Her grandmother put her hand on her hip in a saucy little pose. “Don’t think I won’t. I was quite the beauty in my day. Your
abuelo
used to brag about what my legs could do.”

“Ugh! Nana, no! That is not something I need to have in my head.” Their grandfather had died long before Pilar had been born, but their grandmother had lots of stories. He sounded like he’d been a cool dude. And yes, Nana had been a great beauty. She still was.

She laughed and patted Pilar’s arm. “I’ll take Kyle. You take that furry one from the other night. Connor, right? I like him, too.”

“Okay, okay, go get your sunshine. I’ll babysit the brat.”

With a gentle kiss to Hugo’s swollen cheek and a promise to be back soon, their grandmother left them alone.

And Pilar turned on her brother. “You fucked up in a big way,
pendejo
.”

Hugo finished his milk and sat back against the pillows. “Opening with the lecture. Great.”

“I pulled your ass out of the back room at the fucking High Life, Hugo. What do you expect? Raul says you owe him. What the fuck did you get into?”

“None of your business.”

“It is my business. You drag me into it, and my friends, and now I’m on Assassins radar.”

“We’re always on their radar. Both our fathers died wearing Assassins colors. I didn’t ask for your fucking help, Pilar. And didn’t ask for you to find me or save me or anything. Whatever trouble you’re in now, that’s on you.”

“Nana asked me to find you! And they were killing you!”

“They weren’t. It was a beating. They won’t kill me. I’m family. And, anyway, I haven’t paid my debt yet.” He twitched, like he’d realized that he’d given her an opening.

And she took it. “What does he want?”

Sighing, he pushed the table over his bed away. “I was supposed to move a brick for him. I found a buyer with a better price. I figured I’d sell to him, bring Raul the money he was expecting, and pocket the rest. But the
hijo de puta
paid me in counterfeit bills.”

She sat hard in the chair next to the bed. “Jesus, Hugo. A kee? That’s like, what, thirty grand?”

“Thirty-five. Guy paid me fifty. In funny money.”

The parts of the equation were starting to find their proper place. “So you didn’t bring product to Raul’s customer. You sold that product to somebody he doesn’t know. And he paid you in trash.” Hugo didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. “Oh, you stupid
culo
. What does he want to put you even?”

“I don’t know. He was still at the working out his rage part when you showed up. And with bikers, right? I’m remembering that right? The Horde?”

“Yeah.”

“Raul hates those fuckers. You bringing them into his house…yeah, that trouble’s on you. I’ll deal with my shit. You deal with yours.”

“You won’t deal with your shit, Hugo. You never do. Until the day you die, you’ll be looking for somebody to take your heat for you. It’s what you do.”

Hugo turned on the television and focused his attention there, away from her. “Well, maybe Raul will kill me after all and make your life that much better.”

That broke her heart. When Hugo was born, Pilar had been ecstatic. A little brother. Someone to care for and play mother to, someone to sit with her stuffed animals and take her lessons. As he’d gotten older, they’d continued to be close. He’d followed her everywhere. Then his father and their mother had both been killed in much the same way her father had been killed, and they’d been moved away from the home they’d known, out of Assassins turf.

They’d had only each other. Their grandmother had slaved to be a good provider and a good nurturer, both. She’d done as well as she could, and Pilar had picked up the slack, getting Hugo to school, making his meals, trying to help with his homework. She’d loved him so much. From the day he’d come home wrapped in a knitted blue shawl.

She still loved that little boy. But she didn’t know the man he’d become. And she knew it was her fault, at least in part, that he’d turned out as he had. In middle school, when he’d started to drift, she hadn’t known how to steer him back on course. All she’d done had been to shout and fight.

That was all they’d been doing since. They didn’t like each other much anymore. But she still loved him. She’d still die for him.

She sat and watched television with him. She’d told their grandmother she’d stay.

So she stayed.

~oOo~

“Cordero, here! I’m open!”

They were getting in some fitness time on their next watch. Pilar wasn’t much good at basketball, but this wasn’t really much of a basketball game. The rules were fluid. They split into teams and shot baskets and blocked shots until they were bored or worn out. It got physical.

Pilar turned, pushing back on Moore, and threw the basketball to Reyes, who sank the basket. Moore grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up, pretty much tossing her out of his way.

“Foul! Foul!”

Moore laughed. “That’s your pussy talking, sugarplum. You need to toughen up.”

She punched him in the solar plexus.

“Ow! Fuck!” He doubled over, clutching at his chest.

“Now who’s the pussy?”

Moore picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, then caught a pass with one hand and heaved it at the basket. He missed, probably because Pilar was punching him in the kidneys.

“Put me down! You’re getting your man slime all over me!” He was shirtless and sweaty and smelled like a horse. Some men’s sweat smelled sexy—Connor’s, for instance. Not Moore’s.

While she was still hanging upside down, there was a pause in the action.

“Uh, Cordero?” Perez said. “Got a guest.”

Moore set her back on her feet. When her vision settled, she saw Connor standing near the corner of the building. His arms were crossed over his chest. He was wearing dark sunglasses; the lenses had an iridescent blue tint.

She didn’t like the fluttery thing her belly did when she saw him—or the faint sense of guilt she felt, either, compelling her to step away from Moore.

She started toward Connor, but Moore pulled her back. “I got this.”

“Fuck you, asshole.” She jockeyed to get in front of him, but he muscled her back and got to Connor first.

“Hey, man.” He held out his hand. “Kyle Moore.”

Connor looked at it for a second. Then he stood tall and shook hands. “Hey. Connor Elliott. We’ve met.”

Pilar got the sense that Connor was pissed—like, jealous. She liked it.

Moore grinned. “I know. I kicked your ass.”

“Just surprised me with those pussy dance moves.”