What is Bruce Lee’s Vegetarian Brother’s Name?
WHAT IS brUCE LEE’S VEGETARIAN brOTHER’S NAME?
Glennon
When she woke hours later in a completely darkened room, it was with a gasp.
Where was she? She held her breath, trying to make out anything about the room she was in, trying to remember whatever she could about where she was and why.
Hearing nothing and sensing no presence but her own, she unclenched her fingers from the bedding.
The room felt stifling, her body covered in a thin film of sweat. She wasn’t covered by the comforter, so she attempted to sit up and was abruptly brought to a halt when a pain ripped through her right side.
Stickiness covered her fingertips when she touched the area.
Her heartbeat hammered as the memory returned.
Guillermo. Waking up, restrained, in a remote location.
Making her way to Puente del Inca. Calling M.
Now she was in Los Penitentes with a dead body behind a closed door in her bathroom and a bullet wound in her side, waiting for M and an escort to get her over the border back into the US.
Her phone dinged. She groped for it in the darkness, groaning with the pain of stretching. She recognized the number from earlier, when Tripoli had called to check on her, so she answered.
“Hello?”
“How are you doing?”
“Been better.”
“I’ll bet. M and your escort landed safely and are about ninety minutes out. Shouldn’t be too much longer, and you’ll be on your way home.”
“Home,” she said wistfully. “I don’t even know where that is anymore. After ten years in South America, it’s going to be a culture shock.”
“No family to go back to?” he asked.
“Estranged.” What else did you call it when your mother took one look at you and began crying uncontrollably? Or your father refused to look you in the eye? Where the reminders of your failure were in every room, especially the kitchen, where Joey’s jacket hung on the back of a chair as a memorial?
“We’ll help you reacclimate. Triumph won’t leave you hanging, and neither will we.”
“Triumph?” Who, or what, was that?
“I can’t get used to calling him M. We call him Triumph. It’s a nickname from high school. You can ask him about it sometime when you need a conversation starter.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Demon is a medic, so he’ll take care of your wound, get you ready to travel, and then they’ll get you out of there.”
“What about the guest in my bathtub?”
“Steel will take care of him. You just worry about doing what Demon tells you to do. Follow Steel’s lead, and let Triumph take care of you. All right. Hang in there. Not much longer, and this will all be over.”
“I’m not sure I can ever repay you for your help.”
“No repayment needed, G. Triumph wants to help you, so that’s good enough for us.”
Who did that? Helped a stranger who couldn’t pay them, couldn’t help them, couldn’t owe them favors because she wouldn’t have anything of value they’d need?
No one, that’s who. And in her experience, everyone always wanted something in return.
He sounded so sincere though. They all had. Was it really possible that these complete strangers truly wanted to help her? They didn’t know her, and she didn’t know them. Trust was a difficult, delicate thing, and it definitely wasn’t something she gave easily.
If she wanted a chance at surviving this, however, she needed to decide quickly whether she was going to take this leap of faith or not.
When it came down to it, was there really a choice?
It took her a moment to get past the lump in her throat and several painful swallows before she could speak. “Thank you, Tripoli.”
He seemed to understand where her head was without her saying a word.
“I know this is hard, G. You’ve learned you can’t depend on anyone.
I hate that for you. But Triumph believes in you, and if you have him on your side, that means you get this whole glorious, weird family he brings along with him, plus the wacky, cool cousins, as I call them—meaning Cruz and his friends—because they come attached to my Francesca.
You’re no longer alone. Just keep breathing in and out, and we’ll see you soon. ”
After disconnecting, Glennon fell into a light doze, woken by another ding on her phone. When she checked the number, it was M. Triumph. That name would take some getting used to.
“Hey there.”
“What is Bruce Lee’s vegetarian brother’s name?”
She groaned. “I hurt too much.”
“Brocco Lee.”
She heard an unfamiliar voice on his end of the call—male, dark, with the barest hint of an Irish lilt. “You need new material, dude.”
A warm chuckle followed. “She likes my jokes. That’s all that matters.”
“I wouldn’t say I ‘like’ them,” she corrected.
“Yeah. You like them.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re outside your door. I’ve got a key card. We’re coming in.”
She disconnected as she heard the beep of the lock.
In the backlight of the doorway, she saw three figures.
The first two through the door were about the same height, but one was more solid and the other wiry.
The third figure was considerably shorter, but even in silhouette, she could see he was all muscle.
Once the door closed behind them, someone reached for the room lights and turned them on. She squinted against the brightness, attempting to shield her eyes from the glare so she could keep an eye on them.
The man standing closest to her was dressed in an army-green button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, matching pants, and a dark-brown vest with what looked like a dozen pockets.
His brown hair was shaggy, just too long to be respectable, and his eyes were a piercing blue.
“What do you call birds that all stick together?” he asked.
Whoa. This was M? Triumph? Not at all what she’d pictured. He was even better, if that was possible.
She cleared her throat. “A flock.”
“Nope. Vel-crows.”
She gave a short bark of laughter. Short because it quickly morphed into a groan of pain.
“And that’s my cue.”
The new voice with the Irish lilt came from the man equal in height to Triumph.
His hair was also dark and on the longer side, but it was gathered up into a ponytail that lay against the top of his head, with the sides cut into a fade.
Pulling on a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, he moved past Triumph and went to the far side of the bed.
He placed a backpack on the bedside table, immediately peeling up the blood-soaked shirt she wore.
His green eyes were focused on the wound as he poked at the area, causing her to hiss in pain.
His eyes flicked up to hers. “Sorry about that. Hate to tell you this, but it’s going to hurt more before I’m done.”
“I get it. Can I at least know the name of my torturer?”
He smiled. “Sassy. Reminds me of my Cherry. You’d like her.” He looked back at the wound, then began rooting around in his backpack. “My name is Demon. My teammate’s name is Steel.”
Her glance shifted for the first time to the smaller man, and her eyes went wide in recognition.
“She knows me already. Hello, Gilly.” He called her by her legend’s name, a shortened version of Gillian.
“Ildefanso,” she murmured. “How—”
“I’ll fill you in when we have more time.”
Possibly the worst person to walk through her door other than Guillermo, but for completely different reasons. Steel—born Ildefanso Colonel—had been his father’s bastard son and lead enforcer. He had a reputation for absolute cruelty. He was cold and distant with everyone, including his family.
However, despite his lack of warmth and the gruesome stories she’d heard about what he’d done for his father, she’d never felt his cruelty directed at her.
For the most part, he’d ignored her. On the rare occasion he set his eyes on hers, though, she’d felt one step away from exposure.
Like he knew who she really was. But if he had, why would he stay silent?
He hadn’t been around long though. Apparently, he had a big secret of his own.
He was working with a DEA agent, delivering information on his family to that organization, and he attempted to flee the compound with his wife and son.
They escaped, but not without their son being gunned down in the process.
The whole situation had struck her as incredibly tragic.
Now, here he was in her hotel room—helping her, his stepbrother’s fiancée, flee that same family. Before his flight from the compound, she never would have trusted him. But now? Knowing what she did? It helped to strengthen her resolve.
Triumph swore. “Fuck. I forgot. I was so fucking worried about getting to you before you bled out, I didn’t even think about the fact that you’d know Guillermo’s stepbrother.”
Steel ignored Triumph’s remarks. His voice was cool and unaffected, but she sensed no dishonesty from him. “It’s good to see you again, little spy, although I wish the circumstances were better.”
“Little spy, huh?” The nickname was appropriate, and it made her grin despite her pain. “I always wondered if you knew.”
“Sí. You hid who you were well. I didn’t know at first, but I knew something was off. When I finally figured it out, I didn’t want to risk outing you since we had the same endgame in mind, and I knew our respective organizations would never see eye to eye on working together.”
“I’m sorry about your son.”
He nodded.
“After everything that happened in Bariloche, rumor had you dead. Guillermo never said otherwise. How’s your wife?”
“Daleyza’s pregnant and doing well.”
Steel stepped up to the other side of the bed. “Where’s your houseguest?”
“Bathtub.”
She noticed for the first time that he had a large bag with him that looked like it held ski equipment. He immediately turned and went into the bathroom. The sounds that emerged from behind the partially closed door sounded like he was unpacking the bag.
Demon cleared his throat. “Last but not least, the jokester is your buddy, Triumph.”
“Did all your parents hate you or something? I sincerely hope those names aren’t on your birth certificates.”