24. Brick
24
brICK
“What the fuck.”
The words hang in the early morning air as I survey the damage. The diner’s back door hangs off its hinges, splintered near the lock. Inside, the pantry has been ransacked—flour covers the floor like fresh snow, and shelves are emptied of spices and baking supplies. The register sits untouched, which makes this break-in all the more bizarre.
“Who the hell breaks into a diner to steal flour?” Maddox steps carefully through the mess, boots leaving tracks in the white powder.
“Someone sending a message,” Ryder suggests, examining the doorframe with practiced eyes.
My thoughts exactly. Normal thieves don’t ignore cash registers to steal cooking supplies. This has Cypher written all over it—a warning that he can reach us anytime, anywhere. The fact that they targeted the pantry—Rowan’s domain—makes my blood run cold.
“Call Teller,” I tell Maddox. “I want extra patrols around our properties.”
Ryder’s already checking the security system, his face grim. “They knew where the cameras were. Avoided being seen coming in.”
The bell above the front door chimes, and all three of us tense. Our hands move instinctively toward concealed weapons. Rowan appears in the doorway, stopping short at the scene before her.
“What happened?” Her face pales as she takes in the destruction.
“Break-in,” I say, watching her reaction carefully. “Nothing major. Some baking supplies missing.”
She steps forward, eyes widening at the mess. “All my flour? The special imported vanilla?”
“We’ll replace everything,” I assure her, noting the tremor in her hands as she surveys the damage. She seems more shaken than the situation warrants, unless… “Did you see anyone suspicious hanging around when you left last night?”
“No.” She shakes her head, but there’s something off about her posture, something guarded. “Nothing unusual.”
“Take the day off,” I decide. “We’ve got this covered.”
“But the diner?—”
“Will survive one day without cinnamon rolls.” I guide her toward the door, my hand on the small of her back. “Go home, relax. We’ll call when it’s clear.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Okay. But call me if you need anything.”
After she leaves, I turn back to my brothers. “She seem off to you?”
Ryder shrugs, silent as always, but Maddox nods in agreement.
We head to the back office, where our security system records everything. It’s not state-of-the-art, but it’s good enough to capture most of the diner. Five screens show different angles—the front door, the main dining area, the register, the back door, and the pantry.
“Let’s check the footage from last night,” I suggest, pulling up the security program on the laptop. “Maybe we can catch a glimpse of who did this.”
As I start to click through the options, Ryder suddenly shifts beside me, tension radiating from his body.
“I fucked Rowan.”
The words hang in the air, stopping time. My finger freezes over the mouse, and I slowly look up at my brother.
“What did you just say?” My voice comes out unnaturally calm.
Ryder meets my gaze directly, unflinching. “I fucked Rowan. In the pantry. About a week ago.” He gestures toward the laptop. “You’ll see it in the security footage anyway, so I figured I should tell you first.”
The office goes dead silent. I stare at him, trying to process the bombshell he’s just dropped so casually in the middle of our investigation.
“You…” I can’t even finish the sentence, disbelief making my thoughts scatter.
“If we’re making confessions,” Maddox says suddenly, his voice strained, “then I should probably mention that I slept with her too. Two nights ago. At her apartment.”
The revelation hits like a punch to the gut. Both of them. They’ve both been with her, and neither thought to mention it until now.
“Were you planning to tell me at all?” I ask, voice deadly calm. “Or was I supposed to just figure it out on my own?”
Neither answers, which is answer enough.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, turning back to the screen. “We’ve got a break-in to deal with.”
I click on the pantry camera feed from last week, finding the date Ryder mentioned. Part of me doesn’t want to see this, but a larger, masochistic part needs to know exactly what happened.
The pantry camera angle isn’t great—it’s slightly elevated, catching most of the small room but with blind spots near the corners. For several minutes, nothing happens. Then, the door opens.
Rowan enters, dressed in the clothes I remember from that day—jeans and a simple top, now soaked through from what must have been the broken tap they reported. She’s trying to wring out her shirt, and even in the grainy footage, I can see the outline of her bra clearly through the wet fabric.
A moment later, Ryder appears in the doorway. There’s no audio, but their body language tells the story—her surprise, his intensity, the moment she steps toward him rather than away.
“We don’t need to watch this,” Ryder says, reaching for the mouse.
I bat his hand away. “Oh, I think we do.”
On screen, they collide in a kiss that’s all hunger and need. Ryder’s hands are everywhere, lifting her onto the prep table, gripping her hips, tangling in her hair. She responds with equal fervor, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him closer.
My mouth goes dry as clothes start coming off. Her shirt first, revealing full breasts barely contained in black lace. Then, her jeans, Ryder’s practiced hands peeling them down her legs. Even in the poor-quality footage, her body is perfect—curves in all the right places, skin pale against the dark of Ryder’s tattooed arms.
I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight of Rowan arching under my brother’s touch, her head thrown back in clear ecstasy as he buries his face between her thighs.
My cock twitches, hardening despite myself. The way she moves, the unrestrained abandon on her face as she comes undone—it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. And when Ryder flips her over, taking her from behind with her bent over that prep table, the groan that escapes me isn’t entirely voluntary.
Ryder slams the laptop closed, his expression thunderous. “That’s enough.”
The abrupt end to the footage leaves an uncomfortable silence, broken only by our slightly elevated breathing.
“It’s a bit late for privacy concerns,” I say finally. “Considering you’ve both fucked her.”
“It’s not about privacy,” Ryder growls. “It’s about respect.”
“Respect?” I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “That’s rich, coming from you two.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maddox demands.
“It means you’re both morons.” I stand, needing to put space between us before I say something I’ll regret. Or worse, throw a punch at one of their smug faces. “We’ve got someone breaking in, possibly Cypher’s men, and you two are too busy thinking with your dicks to focus on keeping this place secure.”
“That’s not fair,” Maddox starts, but I cut him off.
“You know what’s not fair? The fact that you two have been messing around with our employee behind my back. The fact that I’m trying to keep us all alive while you’re playing musical beds with the baker.”
“It’s not like that,” Ryder says quietly.
“Then what is it like?” I challenge. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s playing you both.”
They exchange a look I can’t quite interpret, and my temper flares hotter.
“Forget it,” I snap, grabbing my keys from the desk. “Deal with the break-in. I’ve got somewhere to be.”
I storm out, ignoring their calls to wait. The cool morning air does little to calm the heat rushing through my veins—anger, betrayal, and something else I’m not ready to name. My bike roars to life under me, the vibration grounding in its familiarity. I pull away from the diner without a backward glance.
Both my brothers. She’s been with both my brothers. The same woman—our employee and the baker who still owes us for destroying our bikes.
I’m going to confront her. I’ll find out exactly what game she’s playing and what she hopes to achieve by putting her hands between my brothers like this.
The memory of that security footage plays in my head—her body arching, her face transformed by pleasure, the way she gave herself so completely to Ryder.
What I won’t admit, even to myself, is the burning question underneath it all: What would it be like if it were me instead?