To Betray A Brother (5 page)

* * * *

Penny pulled to the side of the road and parked. Beside her on the passenger seat the phone blinked furiously. To bide some time she checked the message. Another one from Justin. There had been so many she stopped counting them.

She focused on the task at hand, second guessing herself. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the steering wheel, while her brain worked overtime trying to find a solution to her predicament. Nothing came to mind. Her hand shook as she put the car into drive.

Gravel crunched beneath the car's wheels as Penny drove slowly up the driveway. The house appeared just as she remembered from their childhood. The three of them used to play together on the large verandah which wrapped around the house.

French doors stood open, the curtains floated on the gentle breeze. Before she knew it, she stood before the front door. Wiping her palms on her jeans, Penny took several deep breaths in an attempt to slow her racing heart. Steeling herself, willing her hand to stop trembling, she pushed the door bell and stepped back. She turned and looked into the rose garden as she waited. The perfume of the yellow, blood red, and white roses wafted on the breeze, and she inhaled deeply. ”Mmm.”

"Yes. May I help you" A woman's voice from behind brought Penny back to the moment. She turned to see Bryce's mum at the door. Amanda Huntington had been a stunning looking woman when Penny was a kid, and she’d lost none of her striking looks with age. Her thick snow white hair cut into a bob, curled inward just touching her shoulders. Her steel grey eyes appeared to drink in everything.

"Mrs. Huntington," she stammered. "You may not remember me. I'm Penny. Bryce and my brother Steele were best friends."

The grey eyes flashed. "Yes, I know who you are dear." A large smile broke across her face. "There have been too many years since we last saw you. Come in please and tell me what brings you here."

She waved for Penny to follow her inside and gestured to the lounge area. "Take seat, dear. Let me make some tea, and we can talk."

Without waiting for a response she turned and disappeared to the kitchen. Penny, stopped trembling, chiding herself for being so silly. Mrs. Huntington had been like a mother to her and Steele when they were growing up. Their house had been a second home. Her eyes wandered about the room. Neatly stacked split logs sat beside the fireplace ready for when winter next chilled the air. Wedding photos adorned the walls and mantle along with pictures of all of the important family occasions, like Bryce graduating from high school and army recruiter training. One picture, a new one, caught her attention. Bryce in ceremonial military dress stood facing Governor General, clearly just having received an award of some kind. His posture rigid, his attention focused on the woman, who appeared to be chatting in an easy going manner.

"I was so proud of him that day." Amanda Huntington placed a tray on the small polished timber table which sat on the center of the rug.

"Why was he with the Governor General?" Penny asked moving back to sit, all the while turning to look at the photograph. She didn't know anybody who met anybody from parliament let alone somebody as important as the Governor General.

"Do you take sugar in your tea?"

"No, thank you, just a dash of milk." She sat back into the chair, relaxing as the warmth of familiar surroundings wrapped around her like a cozy blanket.

Amada Huntington paused, took a sip of tea, and looked at the photograph. Her eyes moistened and shone with solar flare intensity, showing the pride she held for her son. Amanda and Bryce always had a close relationship. "We nearly lost him, you know," she said quietly.

"Sorry?" Penny shook her head.

“We very nearly lost Bryce while he was away in Afghanistan. But that’s a story for another day. Tell me, what brings you here after all these years?”

Penny swallowed a mouthful of tea. “Well, Bryce, really. I need his help.”

Mrs. Huntington merely nodded.

“The truth is I’m stuck. I need a mechanic, and Bryce is the only person I can think of who could possibly do the job.”

“I see. I read about Mick in the paper.
Terrible business. How is he? Is Maeve coping?”

Bryce’s mum had the rare ability to put random pieces of information together to produce a canny and accurate picture.

“I saw them yesterday. He’s mending. Not quick enough for his liking though.”

Amanda Huntington placed her saucer on the table. “Mmm. I see. So now you need somebody to help fill the hole left by Mick.”

“Yes, and I’m hoping to convince Bryce to help me. We’ve spoken a couple of times at the track but not too much more, I’m afraid.”

“How have you been keeping, my dear?”

Penny straightened in her chair. “Well, really well. I found things tough for while after dad died.” She realized she’d not seen Mrs. Huntington since before her father’s accident. Penny continued. “I took a long time to get over his death. Do you know, try as I might, I don’t think I can ever forgive those two for cutting him off and causing him to crash into the railing. If not for the help of Mick and Maeve I’m not sure I would’ve. Their support was a godsend.”

“And business, is it good?”

Penny shook her head and smiled. Nothing ever got past Amanda Huntington. “Yes. It is now. Things were slow in the beginning. Now I have two part time girls who help me out and stock is whizzing off the shelf as fast as we can get it there.”

“More tea dear?”

Brrring. Brrring
.

The telephone sounded harsh in her ears, alien in the elegant old home, as the ring cut across Amanda's voice. "I’m so sorry. I have been expecting this call. Bryce will be in the barn if you’d like to go through." She nodded in the direction of the back door, her attention already on the caller.

Penny took her cue and slipped out the door, not before taking one last look at the photograph of Bryce with the PM. She walked down toward the barn with a million furtive questions buzzing through her mind. She’d been over the situation a dozen times, and this remained the only course of action available to her.

She paused at the door to the barn, took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, and reached out to knock. Her hand stopped short of the door, never quite making contact. She sighed and bowed her head.

"This was a stupid idea," she muttered before she turned to walk off. She didn’t get far. Before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, she rapped on the barn door. The door swung open. She needed a mechanic, and Bryce seemed to be the only person she could trust. "Hello. Bryce." Nothing, emptiness answered back. "Hello. Bryce." Her words echoed off the barn walls.

"Ugh," followed by a
thud
came from inside. "Ugh" another
thud
. "Ugh.”
Thud.

"Bryce? Is that you? Are you ok?" Anxiety clawed at her as she stepped through the door, pausing for a second to let her eyes adjust to the light which filtered through the gaps in the walls. Penny stepped forward and stopped. She stood in the middle of a workshop surrounded by hot rods and motorcycles.

Across the barn she saw Bryce or rather his back. He hung from a ladder-like device. Unlike a normal ladder this had only one rung, the one Bryce gripped with bent arms pulled into a chin up. Suspended one meter in the air, he thrust the rung upward into a new seat. A grunt exploded from Bryce as his muscles uncoiled to move from the rung from one bracket to the next.

Penny watched mesmerized as the muscles in his body tensed and exploded cobra-like into motion. She found herself at the edge of Bryce's work out area as he dropped to ground, landing as lightly as any dancer. As he reached for a towel, his tattoos danced as shafts of sunlight reflected from his glistening skin. They enticed her to come closer, teasing her as she fought every urge to touch him, to feel his strength beneath her fingers. As her eyes grazed his body, the heavy scarring on his left side just below his ribs jumped out at her. Then she saw more scarring down on his right thigh. Unbidden her hand flew to her mouth. What could have happened to cause such horrific injuries?

Bryce turned, no surprise registered on his face. "What brings you here?" His flat tone sounded, almost unwelcoming, and his dark eyes seemed to bore right though her soul.

Self-conscious, Penny wiped her hands on her jeans. "I need your help." He dropped to the floor and relaxed into a stretch, never taking those damn eyes off her. "I was wondering...What I mean is…" She clenched both hands together with her words jumbling as they left her lips.
Breathe, relax.
She took one more deep breath before ploughing on.

"Mick got jumped by a couple of thugs the other night. They messed him up pretty badly. He is in no condition to help with my pit work and won’t be for some time, I suspect. After seeing you work on my bike the other day—oh by the way, I didn't thank you for your help." Her words came fast, tumbling over themselves to get out her mouth so she could get out of here, away from Bryce.

With liquid grace, Bryce rose to his feet. "Would you like a coffee? I have a fresh pot made not too long ago." Without waiting for an answer he turned and headed toward the stairs which led to a mezzanine floor. As Penny followed, she could not take her eyes of his heavily scarred back and shoulders. They were magnificent and led the eye down to the tightest butt she’d seen in a long time. She had an eye level, ringside seat as she climbed the stairs behind him.
Wow, sex on a stick
. She shook her head in an effort to redirect her thoughts to something more mundane. She came here to talk business, not fantasize how his butt might look out of those shorts.

He gestured toward a lounge. "Take a seat while I make us a coffee. The barn is a bit different from when we were kids, don't you think?" A large smile crossed his face while his eyes shimmered as he spoke. "It took me while to make this livable. I'm pretty happy with how things have turned out."

Penny looked about the renovated space. Ancient polished Murray Pine floor boards formed a classic backdrop for the modern living space. She followed him into the kitchen space where he flicked on the kettle. The black cabinets stood contrasting between the brown hues of the flooring and rich red of the timber bench tops.

The entire living space was ridiculously neat and clean. Memorabilia hung in various places; some military in nature while some generally cool stuff filled the rest of the nooks and crannies.

"I did hear about Mick.” Unnoticed Bryce had put on a T-shirt. He placed her coffee on the table and sat opposite.

Penny took a sip. "Mmm. Nice thanks." She sat back into the lounge. "I'm unclear what happened. When he left the pub after a couple of beers, the thugs jumped him. They didn't take his wallet or anything, just beat him up." Her voice quavered as she recalled Mick's swollen face.

Bryce looked at her, not speaking. A light shone in his eyes, gone were the black pools which seemed to drink her soul, and in their place orbs of heart melting deep brown.

She continued. "Now you know what brought me here. I need somebody to help me in my pit." The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she’d said.

"What help could I possibly be? You are a successful business woman and no slouch on the bike. I'm not sure how I could be of any assistance at all."

Penny leaned forward, placing her cup on the table and folding her hands into her lap. "I need a mechanic." She bowed her head for a moment and looked up again at Bryce. He watched her.

"I'm flattered, but I don't know anything about being a racing mechanic. Everything I know, I taught myself.”

"You were amazing the other day when I broke down." She stood and looked out over the glass paneled railing which edged the mezzanine. "And look at all of these. I know you built them yourself." She waved at the cars and bikes lined up below. Penny turned and looked him square in the eyes. She needed to convince him to help her. "Bryce, I have nowhere else to go."

Bryce lifted the welding torch away and watched the small molten pool of metal cool, darkening from the outside toward the centre. Satisfied there were no patches of impurity, he rolled his stool backward and lifted his welding mask. "That should just about do it. Go on, try it out."

Stitch rolled his wheelchair around to the rear of the trike and into the cradle. They had done four tours of Afghanistan together. Stitch had lost both legs below the knees to a roadside bomb attack and had been sent home early on the last tour. The chaos of the incident whirled through Bryce's memory. He recalled dragging his mate down into a drain and applying field bandages in an attempt to stop the bleeding and keep him alive. The thought it could have been him instead was never far from his mind.

"Push the yellow button." A small electric motor whirred as the cradle rose. "Ok, roll forward until you can't go any further. Push the blue button." A set of clamps locked the wheelchair down and the cradle folded forward, securing itself simultaneously.

"Mate, this is freakin’ awesome. I can't tell you how much this means." A giant grin split Stitch’s face. He took the controls in his hands. "Oh, man, I cannot wait to take this baby for a spin. This is just perfect."

His enthusiasm was infectious, and Bryce found himself grinning ear-to-ear in response. “Ok, wise man, start her up,” said Bryce, and Stitch punched the starter causing the Harley engine to roar into life.

Bryce explained the rest of the controls, and how they had been modified, two buttons to select and change gears, and the brakes were activated by one hand lever.

After some practice runs up and down the drive, Bryce grabbed his helmet. "What say we head out for a burger and a beer?"

They rode easily, giving Stitch the opportunity to get used to the trike. After some time, they pulled up at their local pub.

Stitch rolled himself onto the sidewalk while doing his best Cheshire Cat impersonation. "I am not coming down any time soon from this high."

They settled at a table on the balcony where they could keep an eye on their bikes and watch the world go past.

"How many is that now?" Stitch asked.

"How many is what?" Bryce replied around a mouthful of burger.

"You know, you must have built at least a dozen vehicles for the boys. You don’t know how much it means to regain some independence after… well, you know."

For a long time Bryce didn't reply. He let the silence sit between them. "It's no big deal. I have some skill, so figure it’s only right to share, to help where I can."

"Because I know
you
won't, I did some research for you. Guess what I found?"

Bryce shrugged his shoulders. "Solar long life batteries for your butt pillow?" A smile creased his face as he spoke.

"A government grant system." Stitch went on, ignoring Bryce's comment. "A system which would allow you to turn your skills into a paying full time business or at least recoup some of your own personal costs."

"What do you mean?" Bryce looked up, his eyes tightening. “You know I have a full time job. God knows how I would fit running my own business. The two wouldn’t mix. You know I get called away at short notice or have to go away for periods of time.

"I’m not suggesting you give up your work. Truth is we need more people doing the kind of work you do. What I mean is you could get paid for the help you give us, instead of scratching and scrounging. I know these things cost you. You can't keep stumping up for everybody else up forever."

Bryce drained his beer. "You know that's not why I do it. I enjoy helping the boys out, and the challenge of modifying machines to make somebody else’s life better."

"Yes, but who is helping you out?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do. Anyway, let me put something together for you to look at. It’s the least I can do."

“Ok, you do what you want to, but I don’t want anything to do with the stinking government at all. How much
assistance
have they given you? Six months you wait while they work though their red tape bull shit and still, they can’t help you get mobile.” Bryce downed his beer and slammed the glass onto the table between them. “It took me two weeks.”

Stitch looked across at him. “Amen, Brother.” He raised his glass in salute and downed the remnants. “All the more reason to have the bastards pay you money to do the work they can’t.”

Bryce stood, grabbed both empty glasses, and headed to the bar. He returned, placing two fresh beers on the table and two shot glasses full of a clear liquid. He waited until Stich took up his shot glass.

“To absent friends,” they said in unison and downed the contents in a single swallow.

Bryce shut his eyes as the tequila wound its way down his throat into his stomach, burning through his body as if the liquid had been alight when he put the glass to his lips. He smiled at the sensation, reminding him he was very much alive.

Sitting down, he grabbed a mouthful of beer. “You might be right. Maybe it is time they gave something back. They’ve been negligent in the way they treat us for long enough. We’re not the
Dogs of Dereliction
for nothing. They send us away into some god forsaken part of the world to fight in a war for their precious resources then bring us home and leave us for dead.”

“So, if I put some stuff together for you, you will at least take a look then?” asked Stich.

Bryce looked across at him. “Mate, if you do, the least I can do is take a look. I make no promises beyond that, but I will look and consider what you have to say.” He smiled to soften his comment.

“Can’t ask for more than that,” Stitch returned. He downed the last of his beer. “Mate, I need to leave if I want to be home before dark.” He took Bryce’s right hand in an overhand grasp and closed his left over them both. “Brother, you have no idea how much you have helped me.”

Bryce bent down and hugged him. “Get out of here, you old rouge, and say hi to Burnie for me.”

Stitch rolled onto the footpath and set himself on his trike. His face still sported a huge grin as he punched the starter and the Harley thundered into life. With a wave, he roared off.

Bryce grabbed himself another beer and sat for a while, silent and thinking about what Stitch had said. Maybe he did need to re-evaluate his view and have the government pay some money. He didn’t begrudge helping any of his brothers, but maybe he could do more with the additional funds.

* * * *

"Oh, Tim Tam, will you get out of the way?" Penny brushed the large cat aside as she laid some clothes on the bed for the day's activities. Tim Tam had decided to take up residence in the exact spot she needed. He glowered balefully at her, daring her to move him.

"Oh shoo, naughty cat" Penny swatted him out of the way. Tim Tam caught her hand in both claws and playfully gnawed on her knuckles in protest. “Hey, go easy there, fella.” She scratched his exposed belly, all thick chocolate-coloured fur, and received a kick in the arms for her efforts as white furry claws held her hand firmly within the reach of his razor sharp teeth. For his part, Tim Tam was rewarded with a rub between the ears while Penny eased her hand from his mouth.

She slipped into a pair of black jeans, which hugged her hips, providing just enough room to move about comfortably. A dark blue T-shirt with
Leather and Lace
Motorcycle Clothing
emblazoned across the front completed the look, and she headed out into the kitchen for breakfast.

Penny savoured the aroma of her morning brew as she stirred a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. She took a sip, the hot liquid slid across her tongue setting her taste buds dancing as the smooth Arabica flavour blended with the hint of sweetness. She looked across at Tim Tam now curled up on the end of the couch. "You don't know what you're missing," she said. A single yellow eye opened, regarded her, and closed again. "Okay suit yourself." She popped a slice of toast into her mouth and contemplated the day ahead.

A knock sounded at the door. "Hang on. I'm on my way," Penny called as she quickly deposited her breakfast dishes in the sink and paused to straighten her clothes. Who could possibly be calling at this hour of the morning? She opened the door to reveal Bryce leaning back against the veranda rail.

A smile broke across his face at the sight of her. "Grab your things. Let’s go" he said.

"Well, good morning to you too! Go where? I haven't even finished breakfast yet." She raised the slice of toast in her hand to emphasize the point. Her eyes drank the length of him and her stomach began to tighten, not unpleasant though the sensation surprised her. He was dressed to ride in jeans, T-shirt, and his black leather vest. Her memory flashed back to the barn and the way the light danced across his sweat soaked skin as his muscles uncoiled and exploded in powerful movements.

A light glinted mischievously in his eyes as he spoke. "I thought we might spend a couple of hours at the track."

"The track is closed today. And why would we be going there anyway?"

"You asked for my help." His hands opened. "So here I am."

"Come in. Let me finish my breakfast. You can have a coffee, and we can talk about...helping." She stood aside and gestured for Bryce to enter. He paused for a second, before he stepped through the door, passing within inches of her. His scent, male and electrifying, filled her senses and her mind with images of him standing, practically naked in front of her. She shivered.

"Tim Tam, meet Bryce," she said by way of distraction as they passed the big cat sleeping on the lounge. Neither male responded.

Penny indicated a seat at the dining table. "Milk and sugar?” She poured a coffee from the pot.

"Milk and one sugar," he replied as he slid into the seat.

Penny sat opposite, passing him a mug of coffee. "Tell me, what did you have in mind when you said, here I am ready to help?"

"When you came and saw me, you asked if I would help you out with your motorcycle racing while Mick was out of action."

Penny looked him in the eye. "Yes, I did. Mick works in the pits and keeps the bike running, which is where I thought you might be able to help."

Bryce didn't answer right away. He drank a mouthful of coffee and placed the mug on the table. "You asked for my help. If I am going to help, you get everything I have to offer, not just part of it." His dark eyes blazed. Penny squirmed under the force of his scrutiny. "Your bike will be better than it has ever been, faster, more nimble, and stop quicker."

Penny found no arrogance in the way he spoke, rather a statement of fact made by a man confident in his own skills and abilities.

"Part of my job is to make sure you are in the best position to take advantage of what your bike has to offer and the errors the other riders are making around you. Make no mistake, Penny Macintyre, I intend for you to win and win often. You will be the best you can possibly be."

Her heart rate increased under Bryce's scrutiny. "Ok." Penny sat back and folded her arms. A smile crossed her face. "If we are going to go down this path, I'm curious to know how much time you’ve spent on the track. And what makes you think you are a better track rider than I am?"

Bryce nodded ever so slightly in acknowledgment. "Tell you what, let's go to the track for a few hours, and you can decide from there.”

He leaned back into the chair, annoyingly confident while he watched her, his expression neutral. She finished her coffee, irritated by his scrutiny, not wanting him to stop at the same time. She cleared the mugs. "It’s a nice day for a ride. Why not? I'll grab my jacket and meet you outside."

* * * *

Bryce wandered toward the front door as Penny grabbed her gear. He stopped at the photograph of her, Steele, and himself, arms draped over each other’s shoulders and devilish grins on their faces.
Damn, that time was a world away.
They had all gone through so much since then. The last time he had seen Steele he’d been getting on the plane to return home. The two of them had been on a forty-eight hour bender at the Camp X-Ray boozer. They’d come straight off the back of a thirty hour fire fight in which they had been pinned down for close to fifteen hours by sniper fire. What a shit storm! They had been tighter than family then. Steele’s absence bit at him. When Steele disappeared it had been like losing his right arm, they had come to rely on each other so much. Eighteen months ago he’d last heard of Steele who had jetted off to Ibiza to hit the party circuit. He’d gone off the rails once Bryce left to come home. Steele had so far resisted all of Bryce’s attempts at contact, phone, email-even Facebook Bryce pulled his sunglasses down and went outside to the sound of the garage door opening.

Inside was the BSA Penny had ridden through the mountains, plus an Aprilia and Indian Scout. "Nice." He nodded in approval as Penny slid onto the Aprilia and rolled out into the sun.

Penny raised her head. "What's nice?” Something deep inside Bryce melted momentarily when she smiled. He was glad his mirrored glasses provided a haven.

"Everything." A grin split his face as he sat onto his own black and gold Norton Commando.

Penny pulled up beside him. "Okay then, Big Boy. Let's see what you've got." She dropped her visor and accelerated away.