CHAPTER 11
Special K
“Taken care of,” I lie.
My brothers have cornered me in the equipment shed near the barn, which pisses me off. I’m here to load up the trailer with more shit for Boots, but another drive to the ridge won’t be happening until I throw these coyotes off my scent.
They’re on my back about Boots, who Evander refers to as our lady trespasser.
I do my best to steer them toward anything else—talk of weddings and babies and summer vacation plans—but they’re not falling for it. Apparently, my brothers haven’t morphed into complete pussies since falling in love, because they’re not letting up.
I don’t enjoy being the center of attention. I barely tolerate hanging back on the edges of the family. So, this four-against-one ambush is some first-rate bullshit.
I’m about ready to spin around, fists flying. I can kick all their asses. I for sure know that I can take on Finn, Declan, and Evander all at the same time. But if Cal joins in, there’s a fair chance of me not living to see another sunrise.
“You know,” Evander says pressing closer. “I can file charges against our lady trespasser any time. I double-checked the land records at the county recorder’s office. There’s a zero-point-zero percent chance that she has any legitimate claim to any part of this ranch.”
I turn my back on them and pretend to do something other than what I came out here to do. I even consider polishing the stainless-steel storage bins—anything to show them that no matter how hard they come at me, they’ll get no reaction.
“Maybe the ridge isn’t the only thing she’s squatting on,” Declan says.
“Fuck off,” I mumble.
“A complete sentence!” Declan laughs. “Am I right that I’ve touched a nerve with our little brother?”
“Enough, chucklefuck.” Cal slaps Declan on the back of his head.
“Watch it!” Declan rubs his skull. “You know my brain is a quantum computing natural wonder of the world! Nobody wants to fuck that shit up.”
Finn steps forward, and I can feel him pressing in behind me. “What’re you up to, K?” His breath is hot on the back of my neck. “Declan’s right. Something’s going on with you.”
“Am I filing charges or not?” Evander asks. “I got wedding shit to do, you know. I still haven’t decided on which cummerbund goes best with my tux and time’s running out.”
“Your wedding’s more than a month away,” Finn says.
“That’s what I’m saying! Time’s running out and I still can’t decide between the classic black mulberry silk or the pleated paisley—also in mulberry silk, of course.”
“Of course,” Cal says.
Declan stays quiet, which is never a good sign. He only turns off the comedy routine when knows he’s hit paydirt and is preparing to go in for the kill. In those cases, his silence is far worse than any of his nonstop bitching and moaning and joking around.
I sense him walking up to stand behind me, next to Finn.
“Is there something you’d like to tell us, Kevin?” Declan asks.
“Let’s go,” Cal says in his oldest brother voice, ending the ambush. “We’ll check back with you later, K.”
I catch Cal’s eye as he herds our brothers from the shed.
I lift my chin in acknowledgment. He had my back growing up, always protecting me from the three brothers between us in age.
Cal had my back when I was at my lowest point and could see no way out.
He continues to have my back. When Cal MacLaine says, “No man left behind,” he means it.
He's kept my secret for three years, as promised.
I’ll never forget the sight of him the day I was released.
He stood outside the Jacksonville brig in his civilian clothes, hands in pockets.
I didn’t know it at the time, but Cal had just resigned his Naval officer’s commission at the peak of his career.
He was already turning the idea Declan and Finn scrawled on a napkin into the money-making juggernaut that StellaR Tech is today.
And the whole time I was in jail, Cal assured my brothers that the reason I couldn’t be reached was because I was on deployment, working as an intelligence analyst, off-grid and in country until further notice.
Cal’s the eldest MacLaine brother, the backbone of our generation. And the finest man I’ll ever know. No question about it.
“Lean back, little brother,” he tells me before he walks away from the shed.
I can’t help but smile at that. Cal’s got a hundred SEAL slogans, one for every occasion.
And I’ve heard him use this one many times before.
He’s advising me to take a step back, take a deep breath, and detach from whatever it is I’m doing.
The reasoning is that a little bit of distance just might be enough to keep a man from making a huge mistake.
It’s wise advice. I’ll lean back from my plans to load up the trailer again.
I’ll saddle up DG instead. I think he likes Boots as much as I do.