Zayden
Bullet is on the front porch as I step outside. He wags his tail in lazy, slow sweeps when he hears me, but remains focused on the street. Coffee cradled in one hand, I sit on the steps, looking out across the lawn and the other houses.
“Spotted any murderers?” Bullet lets out a huff, his breath fogging, as if unimpressed with my joke. “Well, it’s still early.”
As kids are bundled into back seats and cars back out of driveways, I wonder how I found myself back in a place similar to where I grew up.
Sure, our house was a hell of a lot bigger, and we had a gated driveway inside a gated community with other rich kids, but this isn’t far off.
After escaping my childhood home, I thought I’d never go back to a place like it.
But this house called out to me, and Silence liked it, too. Yale didn’t seem bothered by the similarities to our upbringing, so he was happy to be here. Xavier expressed his annoyance by purposefully buying a bachelor pad a town over, but he’s been at Yale’s most of the time anyway.
“It isn’t too much to ask that you jerk off in the shower like a normal human being.
” Yale’s voice reaches me, and I look to my left as he steps over the property line.
He’s in a suit, glasses balanced on his nose, dark hair neatly brushed back, longer than mine.
He likes the length; I don’t. His beard is trimmed, also a little longer than mine.
Xavier is clean shaven, as always, and dressed in dark jeans and a T-shirt, snake tattoos peeking above the collar and curling around the letter X on his neck.
We all have tattoos of our initials on our necks—a dare from Silence after a night of drinking.
Silence has her Q tattooed in a place far more hidden.
I’ve run my tongue over it many times as she’s unravelling beneath me, clutching at the sheets.
Her dream comes back to me, and I place down my coffee.
The three of us sharing Silence has come up before, but in jest. She’s always reacted the same way, claiming even all of us couldn’t handle one of her, and she’d rather die than give Xavier a second of joy.
His response was that he’d rather introduce his nose to a wall at high speed than kiss her.
“God, you look like Dad,” Xavier remarks as he reaches the porch. He grimaces as he says it, as if he wasn’t the best man we knew until he was gone. “Morning, Bullshit.”
Bullet stands and nudges Xavier’s palm, pressing his head into it before wiggling over to Yale. My youngest brother crouches and grins, stroking his head. The dog is as attached to Yale as he is to Silence, as if he can sense their innocence.
“Please tell me I get to kill someone today.” Xavier jogs up the steps and into the house. “I’m in a bad mood.”
Yale stands. “Why are you in a bad mood? You’re living in my house rent free, getting jizz on my fucking towels!”
Xavier’s cackles drift from inside the house, and I smirk. “It’s your own fault for letting him stay.”
“Can’t exactly kick him out, can I? Why can’t he live with you?”
“Because Silence would have a coronary.”
Xavier and Silence’s rivalry is a fucking mystery.
The first night in Vegas, they were fine.
As time ticked on, Xavier started teasing her, and she gave as good as she got.
Eventually, those cute moments became full-blown arguments during which Silence has threatened, on numerous occasions, to feed him his own balls.
Bullet follows us into the house, and I close the door just as it starts to rain again. Xavier is already in my office, sitting on my new brown leather couch, legs stretched out on the coffee table.
“Get your fucking shoes off my coffee table.” I punch his boot as I pass him, and he wrinkles his nose before doing as he’s told.
Yale takes a seat in front of my desk, and I sit behind it.
“You’re not unpacked,” Xavier says, flicking the lid of an open box beside the couch. “It’s stressing me out.”
“Why unpack when you’re still looking for our missing fucking boxes?” I hit back, and he rolls his eyes. “You said you had it under control. If you don’t find those photo albums, I’ll kick your ass, and so would Dad if he were still here.”
“Wow. Playing that card? Really? As if I don’t have enough on my plate.”
Yale drops his head back. “Again, with the stress. You have the easiest fucking life.”
“I’m unpacked. You’re unpacked. Why can’t he unpack?” Bullet hops up beside Xavier, panting in his face. “I bet even Bullet’s unpacked.”
I hold up a manilla envelope. “Will you shut up if I give you a politician?”
“Yes.” He sits up, eyes brightening. He holds his hands out, wiggling his fingers at me. “Gimme.” I toss him the envelope, and he tears it open. “Please be that prick Givens, please be Givens—” He whoops. “Fucking finally! Can it be messy? Please say it can be messy.”
I wave my hand. “Enough people want him dead. Do what you like.”
Xavier’s laugh is pure evil, and he ruffles Bullet’s head. “Chippy is coming out to play, then.”
That fucking chainsaw. I’m surprised it still works considering how many bodies it’s been through.
Xavier balls up the paperwork and tosses it into the trash. “There’s my night sorted.”
“No.” I point at him. “It’s Silence’s birthday meal.”
He shrugs. “I’ll do it before. I’ll go to the gym, pick up some more stuff from the apartment, grab Chippy, visit the politician, be here by eight. Easy.”
“Dinner is at eight,” I say. “Be here for seven, or Chippy will have two jobs today.”
Yale eyeballs our brother. “I guess you’re staying with me long term, then?” Xavier gives him a thumbs-up, and Yale narrows his eyes at me. “Make him go away.”
I ignore the comment. “Six new ones.”
He brightens. “Ooh, goody. When for?”
“The weekend.” I hand him a piece of paper with six names and date of births on it.
More new recruits for the Agency—the place that made us what we are.
A center designed to create lethal killers, loyal to the one who gave them their skills.
For years, my brothers and I worked for them, but eventually, we were each given a percentage of that business.
It was unnerving, but also proof of our success.
“Be selective. We’re gonna run out of room. ”
Yale scans the list. “We’re getting more interest.”
Yes, we are. When my brothers and I first joined the Agency, there were ten of us in our group, two of whom were the Flynn brothers. That was the only recruitment that year. Now, we get half a dozen a month, and that’s only because Yale whittles out the ones who wouldn’t last a day.
The front door opens and closes. “Morning!”
“What time do you call this?” Xavier calls back, just as Grant appears in the doorway.
He’s in his usual gray T-shirt, red flannel and jeans. His dirty blonde hair is damp from the rain, and he runs his fingers through it before slumping onto the couch beside Xavier.
“Can’t believe you’re even awake,” he quips. “Did you shit the bed?”
“No, he jerked off in it,” Yale mumbles.
Grant’s face pinches. “Didn’t need to know that. Did you give out the politician yet?” I nod and point at Xavier, and Grant groans. “Shit, I wanted him.”
“Early bird,” Xavier says, texting with one hand and stroking Bullet with the other.
“Good job I’m already in a good mood, then.” He takes a box out of his pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring.
Xavier glances at it. “I prefer watches.”
“It’s for Monica, asshat.” He admires the diamond set onto the silver band, his grin wide. “Gonna ask her to marry me.”
“Aw, he’s all grown up,” Yale teases. “Congrats!”
Silence introduced Grant and Monica four years ago. Monica works at the hospital and was reluctant at first, but the moment they met, it was clear they were perfect for each other. If anything, she’s too good for him, and I remind him of that daily.
“About damn time,” I say. “Don’t let Xavier plan your bachelor party. One of us will wind up dead.”
“I also think …” Grant’s voice trails away, and this gets our attention. Xavier places his phone down, and Grant rubs his palms together, focusing on the floor. “I think if I really want to make a go of it with Monica and start a family … I don’t want to be doing this anymore.”
Fuck. I rest my forearms on the desk. “You’re sure?”
He shrugs, giving me a crooked smile. “It feels like the right thing, y’know? I was hoping that politician would be my last.”
“So soon?” Yale asks. “Shit, Grant. You’re ditching us.” His tone is affectionate, but there’s an undertone of hurt. We love Grant. He’s one of our closest friends, and working with him is seamless.
“Yeah. Is that okay, Z?”
It is, but it brings up countless conversations between Silence and I that never end well, and when she finds out, it could spark another.
“Of course,” I say, smiling.
Xavier says, “You do realize you can’t go out on a job now? Rule one of being a contract killer. You announce you’re leaving, then you’re guaranteed to die at your next hit.”
Grant’s mouth drops open. “Why the fuck would you jinx me?”
“What? It’s true.” Xavier shrugs. “Rest in peace, buddy.”
I throw a pen at Xavier. “Fucking cut it out. Let him have his moment.”
“He’s right, though,” Yale says.
I wave at Grant and Xavier. “Go and make yourselves useful. Grant, there’s a collection in the city. Take Goodwin with you, then we can talk tomorrow about your exit package.”
They stand, and Xavier yanks Grant into a headlock before dragging him out of the office, cackling.
“That’s gonna be weird,” Yale says. “Working without Grant.”
It is. “We’ll get by.”
Yale remains seated, as if he knows there’s more. “You need something from me?”
“Yeah, uh—” I go to the door and close it before returning to my seat.
Before speaking, I run my palm across my mouth, my stubble rough against my palm, and wonder if I should even bring it up.
My brothers and I try not to keep secrets, but one or two slip through, and maybe this should be one …
but I also know my wife. I’d be surprised if Yale doesn’t already know.
“Did Silence talk to you about her dream yet?”
He shakes his head. “She mentioned wanting to talk about something, but Xavier was lingering.”
I tap my finger on the desk. “She dreamt about you and Xavier.”
“Doing what?” He tilts his head, and I raise my brows in response. He grins. “Really?”
“Don’t look too fucking smug. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner, to be honest.”
“Okay, so … why are you bringing it up? Did it freak you out?”
No.
The opposite.
And I wasn’t exactly prepared for that.
My brother watches me, and now I wish I hadn’t said anything. I don’t even know why I did. Reassurance?
An offer?
This new side of our sex lives is exciting.
I trust Silence, she trusts me, and I’m fairly sure I know what I want, but I also don’t know how I’ll really feel until it happens.
I’ve been wrestling with two options: let it happen with a stranger that we can walk away from if it doesn’t go the way we want, or do it with someone we both trust. Someone who will put mine and Silence’s minds at rest if it isn’t what we thought it’d be.
Of course, Yale was the first person I thought of. He’s Silence’s best friend. He’s my brother. More than that, though, he’s a good man. I trust him with my life.
Never once did I consider both of my brothers until this morning. And it didn’t scare me. There was no flare of jealousy or unease, just curiosity at how it would happen and what it would look like. Logistically.
“I don’t know. Guess I just needed to say it out loud.”
“Well, you know I’m here if you want to talk about it,” he says. “Or if you want me to act it out.”
He grins, and I laugh. “Asshole.”
“It’d be the brotherly thing to do. Also, paper?” He holds the list up to me and stands. “Send an email, old man.”
As he leaves, I call out after him, “I’m only eight minutes older than you!”
Once the office door is closed, Bullet slinks over to my side and rests his chin on my lap.
I stroke his head and stare at the wedding photo on my desk—Silence in a glittering dress, heels abandoned, a two-dollar veil shoved into her dark blonde hair.
Her brown eyes are lit up with excitement, and we’re both extraordinarily drunk, but also so damn happy.
Off to the side, Elvis is singing into a microphone, shedding tears for what he described as “the most beautiful couple” he’d ever married.
My love for her is burrowed into my bones, something I couldn’t be rid of if I wanted to.
But that doesn’t mean we won’t make mistakes.
Was mentioning the dream one of those? Am I opening a door I’ll one day want to slam closed? It doesn’t feel that way right now, but …
Complications rarely make themselves known until it’s too damn late.