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CHAPTER TWO
Brick
The lukewarm spray of the shower did shit to ease the tightness in Brick’s shoulders, but it served well enough to help the soap erase the grime of the city from his skin. He washed his body in quick, efficient movements, then used the bar of Dial to lather the top of his head. He kept his dark hair too short to bother with shampoo. Hair long enough for someone to grab created a liability.
His internal clock warned him to move faster. Xander expected the crew at the site by six-thirty, and the foreman was one of the few people in this world he didn’t want to disappoint. They weren’t tight or anything, but the man gave him a chance to be something other than a thug every day.
It felt good to build something rather than destroy it.
He threw on clothes, then made a final check of his tiny apartment. Windows, secure. Hidden weapons, in place. Money? Nestled safely in the fat, hollow legs of his coffee table.
No one he knew would have the balls to break into his home, but he didn’t take any chances. Only a few more thousand dollars and he’d finally have enough to get out of Sucre’s trap.
He pulled up to the site next to a Cooper Construction pickup with minutes to spare. Their latest gig had them building a three-bedroom house in the suburbs.
It was the closest he would ever get to a place like this, but it didn’t matter. One day, a family would live here. Kids would make happy memories and shit, and he’d have something to do with it. It was good work. Clean work. And on this job, he could pretend to be a regular guy instead of the bone-crusher who made crackheads like Pete piss their pants. No one seemed scared of him here. A welcome change from the other side of his life.
“Brick.”
Xander's assistant, Robby, wasn't even cautious around him. On the street, a skinny guy like him would be running away from Brick, not toward him. The kid looked downright happy to see him when he stepped up with his clipboard in his hand.
“Did you hear? The house we wrapped up in Dunwoody last month is going to be a model home. I knew the place looked amazing. You guys did some great work. I was just telling Xander—”
Robby prattled on, barely taking a breath. How he’d become the assistant’s favorite person to gossip with, he’d never fucking know.
“—you know what I mean?”
He really didn’t, but he nodded anyway. “Who am I working with today, kid?”
Robby startled a little at his voice before glancing down at his clipboard. “You're with Kane and Will.”
He checked over his shoulder and saw both the guys in question already headed his way. When he looked back, the tips of Robby's ears and his cheeks were turning pink. He followed the assistant’s gaze to Matt and Cyrus, the last two members of the five-man crew, strapping on their hardhats and tool belts near the curb.
Robby averted his eyes back to the papers on his clipboard. “I'm, uh, going to go give Xander a call and let him know you guys are getting underway.” The kid almost tripped over his feet, scrambling to get away.
Weird.
Brick tilted his head at the men on his team, and they followed him toward the area where they'd be working. Kane was the closest thing he had to a friend on the crew. Hell, anywhere, come to think of it. They were both big men used to others giving them a wide berth. The dude might have been part of a local biker gang, but he had never asked. The same way Kane never asked him about what he did for Sucre. Both predators respected each other’s strength without feeling the need to make a challenge.
Will, well, he would fit right in with those All-American football types the girls loved. He’d only joined the crew recently, but he seemed all right for someone who looked like he hung out at the mall. He got the job done; nothing else mattered.
They worked in a steady rhythm, assembling the floor frame quickly. Kane and Will didn’t waste time running their mouths. They had all the horizontal supports in by lunchtime. The two other men on the crew hefted over the lumber.
A breeze ruffled the plans Robby had left rolled up on the ground, but it didn’t give any relief from the midday heat and humidity. Even though it wasn’t quite summertime yet, the Georgia sun could already fry an egg on the sidewalk.
His phone pinged, and as he swiped into the text, a photo of his grandma filled the screen. She slept in her bed at the nursing home, her thin frame draped with a white sheet.
He fought the urge to growl against the near-daily reminder of Sucre’s hold over him.
At least she’s safe.
Forcing a measured breath, he returned the phone to his back pocket. Less than a minute later, Robby called everyone outside for pizza.
The guys trudged toward the food, their shoulders hunched from bending over for the last five hours. A couple of them walked on the plywood stretched between the slab and the side of the street, but most tromped through the overturned dirt where crews had laid the sewer lines a few days ago.
One by one, each man grabbed a couple of slices before fanning out for a few minutes’ R&R. As Brick chomped down on a slice of pepperoni, an unfamiliar car pulled up to the curb.
He watched intently as a petite woman climbed out of the driver’s seat, then he sucked in a breath. Pretty girls were a dime a dozen, but there was something special about this one. He tried to drink in everything about her at once, from her fair skin, to the freckles on the bridge of her nose, to the golden hair draped over her shoulders. Her light eyes sparkled, and a smile lit her face. With her pristine white sundress and strappy sandals, she looked like a goddamned angel, as out of place at the dirty work site as he would be sitting in a church.
