Liam: Branded Brothers (11 page)

“Yeah,” she replied, pointing to the building. “It kills me
to think that asshole spent his late night study sessions here. What was I
thinking?”

“With a name like Sexy Rexy, I don’t know,” Liam joked.
Charla hit him on the arm and his face fell more serious. He took her hand
gently and squeezed it. “Not everyone is who they say they are, Charla. It’s a
hard one to swallow. Believe me, it’s been eight years, and I still ask myself
what happened. At the end of the day, my ex-wife isn’t who I thought she was. I
had to fall out of love with the woman I thought I knew.”

“Does it still hurt? Because I don’t want to let that man
cause me any more pain than he already has. I don’t want to give him the
satisfaction.”

“It’s definitely easier now, but it still hurts some days,”
he said, pulling her closer to him until their bodies were only inches apart.
“But every day away from her is one step closer to the woman of my dreams,
wherever she may be.”

Charla’s heart pounded against her chest. “Well, wherever
she is, I hope you find her. You deserve to find her.”

“I know I do,” he whispered with a look intent on swallowing
her lips again. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips
against hers again when the rev of an engine interrupted them.

“The track?” She opened her eyes to see a pained expression
on his face.

“The track,” he grumbled, reluctantly moving away from her.
“But don’t think for a second you’re off the hook. I’m taking a rain check on
that one.”

I hope you do
, Charla thought as they headed back to
his Audi.

Chapter 6

The roar of rumbling engines and
exhaust filled the summer air at Illinois International Raceway. A small crowd
had begun filtering in, watching the stock cars do their practice runs.
According to the sign on the way in, the races didn’t start until seven
tonight. Liam parked his Audi next to a line of pick-up trucks fit for a
redneck hoe-down. The one on the end was caked in mud while the one next to
Liam was jacked a good two feet higher than normal. Gold rims spun slowly in
the breeze like a pinwheel.

“We’ll fit right in,” Liam said with a laugh as he killed
the engine.

“Just hope that guy doesn’t run over your car.” Charla
pointed to a man in a flannel cut-off pounding a beer near the hood of his
monster truck.

“I’d have a thing or two to say about that,” he said,
looking out the windshield. “You forget I’m a bounty hunter? You know that
means I carry a variety of guns with me at any given time, right?”

“Right. The Irish Gunslinger, how could I forget?” she
joked.

“That’s what you nicknamed me?” he asked, turning toward her
with wide eyes.

“Maybe.” She shrugged her shoulders as he shook his head.
“What?”

“Let’s do this,” he replied, getting out of the car before
she could respond. They stepped out into the cut-down field, the leftover
growth crunching beneath their feet as they walked toward the entrance. It was
flagged by multi-colored pennants in the shape of an arch. A few of the
pennants were missing, giving off a backyard carnival vibe. Charla
half-expected to see a clown with curly red hair and a mini-pony appear. She
hadn’t been at the race track for more than ten years. This time around,
everything seemed different. Smaller. More run-down.

“What’s the plan?” she shouted above the noise of the
engines. They fired against each other, the drivers revving at a start line.

“To find him, figure out if he’s my brother, and if he is, then
convince him to help me find our other brother,” he replied.

“That’s it? No plan? Is this how you catch all the bad guys?
Just walk up to them and slap some cuffs on?” she asked as they walked down a
small slope toward the wooden benches. “No smoke and mirrors? No cloak and
dagger? Just the force of Liam Murphy.”

“Pretty much,” he said. “I can be convincing, plus I’m not
afraid to use force. I get what I want when I want it.”

“Now I know why you asked me to come along,” she replied as
he gestured her forward to a seat. She weaved through first and he followed,
sitting down next to her. “You have to do a little work before you get down to
business.”

“Not always,” he replied. “I thought you could provide some
moral support, but after seeing your little stint at Paradise Club, I think
you’ve got a few tricks of your own up your sleeve.”

“You bet I do.” She winked and turned back to the track,
looking for car number four.

“Charla Taylor, who are you?” he asked. She felt his gaze on
her profile, but she continued to follow the cars with her eyes. “I thought you
were some beautiful woman with unimaginable patience and kindness who cared for
an ailing man.”

“I am,” she answered, pulling her eyes away from the track. She
studied him for a second before adding, “And so much more.”

Liam let out a low whistle. “Well, I’m looking forward to
learning more about you.”

“I bet you are,” she said, turning back to the track and
pointing. The cars were beginning to slow after a couple of practice laps. They
pulled off to the side of the track, following a dirt path to a holding area. “If
he’s driving car number four, he’s the black one with the skull on the hood.”

“Good looking out,” he said, following her finger. “I think
you might be more of a distraction to me than anything else.”

Charla smiled then stood up. “Let’s go down there. I’m not
going to spend my whole night waiting around to watch these guys spin around
the track like goddamn hamsters in wheels.”

“You got it, Boss,” he said as they wound down the hill and
along the fence at the bottom of the track.

They stood on the edge of the holding area as the drivers
emerged from their cars. A shiny black helmet with a white skull popped out
from car number four. The rest of the man climbed out and walked toward another
driver. They talked for a few minutes before driver number four finally pulled
off his helmet to reveal a completely shaved head. He tucked the helmet under
his arm and then began walking the other way.

“Let’s go.” Charla grabbed Liam’s hand and began following
the man. They were a few feet behind him when he stopped and turned around. His
eyes locked on Liam’s and then Charla’s.

“You got a fuckin’ problem?” he asked, scrunching down his
thick eyebrows.

Charla studied the lines of his muscular jaw set in an
angular face. Tattoos ran up the sides of his neck, but his face was clear of
any ink. He was good-looking, like Liam, but he had more of an edge to him.
There was an unpredictability in the way he stood, like he might explode at any
given moment. His eyes flashed the same deep blue color as Liam’s. There was no
mistaking they could be brothers.

“Are you Ronan Williams?” Liam asked, taking a step toward
him. Liam’s voice was different. Stronger, more assured with his shoulders
pressed back. It was a warning not to mess with him.

So this is how he does it,
she admired, standing back
to let the men assess each other. They stood in silence for a few moments,
looking each other up and down. She was sure Liam could hear her eye roll. It
was a pissing match.
He must be the middle one
, Charla thought.
Men.

“Yeah, who the fuck is asking?” Ronan finally said, still
not breaking the stare-down.

“Liam Murphy.” He held out his hand to Ronan. He hesitated
for a second before meeting Liam’s in what Charla guessed was another match to
see who could squeeze the hardest. They finally dropped their hands. “We
stopped by your shop, but you were closed. We were told by some of your friends
that you would be here.”

“Yeah, the shop will be open tomorrow. You can stop by
then.” Ronan turned and walked away. A skull flashed on the back of his black
jacket. Flames spewed out of its mouth.

“I don’t want a tattoo,” Liam called to him. “I’m here
because of the tattoo on your chest. The one you’ve had since you were a kid.”

Ronan stopped, but didn’t turn around. Liam stood resolute,
waiting for him to respond. Charla watched, not wondering if he was going to
get what he wanted. Liam was going to take it.

“I’ve got the same one,” Liam continued as he reached into
his back pocket to retrieve the envelope Charla had given him. “Right on my
heart. Had it since I can remember. It’s the Celtic symbol for family.”

Ronan shifted his helmet to his other hand and then finally
turned around to face them. He walked back toward Liam with a look of interest spread
across his face. He unzipped his jacket and lifted his shirt to reveal a
mid-section filled with tattoos, even more inked than Liam’s. There was barely
a centimeter of clean skin.

“You mean this?” He pointed to a clock that looked as if it
could spin tucked neatly against his heart. The woven lines of the Celtic
tattoo were buried deep in the middle, almost undetectable at first.

Liam held up the letter. “You got a second?”

***

Ronan shoved half a hot dog in his
mouth while Liam talked. He nodded as he chewed, trying to process the
information. Charla sat across from him, munching on popcorn that tasted like
stale, salted cardboard. But it was enough to keep her hands busy and to fill
the uneasiness in her gut so she kept pecking away, swallowing hard.

“So that’s all I know,” Liam finished, folding the letter
and putting it in his pocket. “It’s not much, but it’s a start. And since the
three of us were pretty much in the same location, at least within thirty
minutes of each other, I’m guessing Brody’s not far.”

Ronan shoved the last of the hot dog in his mouth and chewed
in a large, exaggerated motion. Then he took a gulp from his straw, guzzling
down huge mouthfuls of soda. “So you’re telling me that I have two brothers,
and you’re one of them.”

“Yeah,” Liam nodded. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Believe
me, I know. I didn’t believe it at first so I showed up at his door and sure
enough, Charla was there packing up his stuff.”

“So, what do you know about this guy?” Ronan asked, turning
toward her.

“Not much more than Liam told you,” she replied, trying not
to think about the whole mafia errand boy detail. None of that would go over
well right now. “He wasn’t exactly in the best condition over the last two
years. Like I told Liam, I knew Alzheimer’s Jack. I didn’t know Jack before the
disease. But what I do know of him, I know he wouldn’t have given up his family
easily. He loved Helen.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Ronan said, taking another
drink. “In two years, why wouldn’t he have ever mentioned us? He didn’t say a
single word about having sons?”

“In the end, he may have forgotten. I had to remind him on
hourly basis who I was, but in the beginning, I don’t know.” Charla shook her
head. She honestly didn’t know why Jack never mentioned his sons before.
Usually Alzheimer’s patients had their long-term memory well intact. She knew
he had at least bits of it. “Maybe he was ashamed? Embarrassed? I don’t know…”

“When I was younger, I worried about my real parents, but I
stopped wondering a long time ago. I have parents and a sister that I wouldn’t
trade for anything. So as much as you want me to go on some wild hunt to find
out our real history, I don’t think I can fuckin’ do it, man,” Ronan said. “My
life’s damn good the way it is. I don’t need any drama. I’ve got enough of that
with the women I date.”

“I’m not asking you to go on some wild hunt with me,” Liam
said. “I just think there’s more to the story than we know. I’m just asking you
to answer any questions we have along the way while we try to find Brody. Plus,
I think it would be good to get to know each other, since we’re brothers and
all.”

“I’ll give you that,” Ronan said. He scrunched up his
wrapper and shot it into a blue barrel nearby. “I did always want a brother,
although I hoped for a younger one I could knock some sense into.”

“That ain’t happening, at least not with me.” Liam laughed,
making Ronan crack a smile. It was the first time Charla saw Ronan let his
guard down.

“Yeah, I’ll answer any questions you have. And I’ll do a
little digging with my parents. I’ll see if they’ll admit to knowing anything
about Jack or Helen. They always said they knew nothing about my biological
parents, but it’s worth another shot, now that I know a little bit more about
them,” Ronan offered as he pulled a phone out of his front jacket pocket. “Call
or text me if you find anything else out about Brody. I haven’t seen anyone
else with the tattoo, but I can ask around.”

Liam took out his phone and punched in Ronan’s number as he
recited it. “I thought you weren’t up for a wild chase?”

“There’s nothing wild about asking a couple questions,”
Ronan said. He flashed a serious look at Charla. “You haven’t been hanging around
me long enough to know what my definition of wild is.”

“Something tells me I don’t want to know,” she replied,
shaking her head. Ronan definitely had two sides to him, the good-natured one
sitting in front of her and the unpredictable one she saw down in the pit area.
She preferred the one sitting across from her.

“How’d you get roped into this anyway?” Ronan asked.

“Because I’m a sucker,” she replied, looking over at Liam.

“Because she’s a woman with a kind soul who is willing to
help out of the goodness of her heart,” Liam answered, meeting Charla’s eyes.

Ronan laughed a knowing, guttural sound. “You two dig up
what you can, and I’ll do the same. In the meantime, get a fuckin’ room.” He
got up from the table and grabbed his soda. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got
a race to win tonight.”

“You should drop by my place, the Dirty Leprechaun sometime.
It’s in Blackwell. We’ll throw down some Guinness on me.” Liam stood up and
offered his hand to Ronan.