Chapter Four

Jude

I stared out the window. Rissa loved the gardens, especially when the roses were all in bloom. I smiled as I remembered finding her one day on her knees planting a rose bush with the gardener. She looked up at me and said these were going to be her roses.

I gripped the edge of the windowsill, resting my head against the cool glass. I could almost hear her asking me where I was, but when I opened my eyes, she wasn't there. I knew it was a figment of my imagination, wishful thinking. She'd been gone a little over a month, and I still couldn't stop thinking about her.

"I'm losing my fucking mind," I muttered.

I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my keys. As I went to the front door, Ezra came out of the den. He looked like death warmed over. He needed to shave. I didn't think he'd gotten a haircut since the night… the night… I drew in a ragged breath.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Just out. I can't stay in here a minute longer. I have to get some air."

He looked concerned. "You okay?"

I met his gaze. "Are any of us okay?"

"I guess not, but just know your brothers care about you. Don't do anything stupid."

"I just need some air. I won't stay out long." I knew what he was thinking—what we all were. Life is so fragile that you never know what will happen from one moment to the next.

I left the house and went to my car, putting the top down before I drove away. It was at least ninety-five degrees, the beginning of summer, but I wanted to feel the wind on my face and not air-conditioning. I wasn't lying about needing air. I felt as if I was suffocating.

I slowed as I drove past the clubhouse. There she was, a blurry image, wearing white shorts and a tiny crop-top that bared her midriff. She smiled at me before the shadowy image began to fade. I almost saw her clearly—our beautiful Rissa. But almost wasn't enough.

I pushed down on the gas, kicking up gravel behind me, and sped away. I don't know how long I drove or how far. I didn't stop until I saw the faded sign for the Back Roads bar. Yeah, I needed a drink. I pulled in and then brought the top up and locked the car.

There were missing shingles on the roof of the weathered-wood structure, and it leaned a little to the right. It wasn't one of the best bars around, but I didn't care. The boards creaked beneath my feet when I stepped up on the wooden porch.

I stopped just inside the doorway to let my eyes adjust to the dim interior. The inside wasn't a vast improvement. There were five men at the bar. The place smelled like sweat and cheap booze. A tired looking whore perked up as her eyes checked me out.

I immediately dismissed her and continued scanning the room. There were several tables with a couple of chairs at each one that had seen better days. As I walked up, the bartender came over.

"What can I get you?" he asked in a bored voice. He was heavyset, wearing a dirty apron that had once probably been white, or not.

"A beer." I quickly added. "In a bottle."

He pulled the beer out of the cooler, twisted off the cap, then set it on the counter. "Five bucks."

I pulled out my wallet and dropped a five on the counter. He didn't waste any time scooping it up. I brought the beer to my lips and took a long drink. It was barely lukewarm.

The whore tried her best to sashay over to me but didn't quite pull it off. She grabbed the edge of the counter to steady herself when she stopped near me. "Buy me a drink, and I'll show you a good time." She pushed her bleached blonde hair, with black roots, out of her face.

A strong odor drifted into my space. She smelled like perfume from a clearance bin at a discount store and cheap whiskey, almost gagging me. I turned my cold gaze on her. "No thanks."

"Ruthie, can't you see he's too good for the likes of us," one of the men leaning against the bar snarled.

"I was just askin'," she muttered.

"Get your ass back over to your table," the bartender warned.

"What's a pretty boy like you doing in a bar like this?" another man slurred. He had obviously been drinking for a while.

Jude, what are you doing? This isn't your kind of bar. You need to leave.

I gripped the bottle a little tighter as Rissa's voice filled my mind. I knew she was right.

I didn't look their way. "I just came in to get something to drink. I don't want any trouble."

"Well, maybe you found it anyway," he guffawed.

I pushed away thoughts of Rissa and turned. My eyes narrowed as I stared at the man. Fucking redneck, just my luck. He had at least a couple days of whiskers, oily stains were splattered all over his dark green T-shirt, and God knows what other substances, as were his faded and torn jeans.

"You don't know who the fuck you're messing with," I said quietly. "If I were you, I'd go back to drinking your beer."

The bartender was watching as if he didn't care what happened. Maybe we were relieving the monotony of his day.

"Just what the fuck you going to do?" Redneck asked.

"I'm not going to do anything as long as you mind your own business." I took another slow drink of my beer.

"Well, me and my friends don't like prissy boys."

He started toward me. I stepped away, then slammed the bottle against the side of the counter, leaving jagged edges and spilling beer across the scarred surface.

"You think a broken bottle scares me?" he growled.

I smiled. "It will when I shove it in your throat."

What the hell are you doing, Jude?

Get out of my head! You're gone!

Walk away. This isn't who you are.

But I don't want to walk away.

For the first time this month, I felt alive. The man came at me, along with two of his friends. I slammed my fist into the nearest one's throat. The man stumbled back, gurgling. The other two came at me all at once. Just like I warned, I shoved the jagged-edged bottle into his throat, blood spurted over me as he fell backward, landing on the ground with a thud as he fought to pull the bottle out. The whore screamed, the sound echoing throughout the bar.

"No, I'm done. It's not worth it," the last man cried, backing away.

He held up his hands, but I wasn't having any of that. "No, you wanted a piece of me. Now you have it. I plowed into him, hitting with first one fist and then the other. I felt the bones crunching as blood splattered over me. He fell to the floor. I dropped on top of him, still punching. The whole time, I kept thinking that Rissa was gone, never coming back.

Fuck! It hurt so damned much.

Rissa, why did you have to leave us? What happened that night? We need you.

At this point, I didn't care if one of their buddies came at me. Death would be better than the pain of having my heart ripped out and broken into a million tiny pieces. Two other men did come over, but all they did was pull me off the man.

"He's done for," one of them yelled at me. "Enough!"

The men's words finally sank into my brain. "I'm okay, dammit! I'm okay!"

They immediately released me and stepped back as I came to my feet. I looked around at the three broken men on the floor.

"Next time, you might want to find out who you're fucking with." I looked around the bar at the remaining customers. "You never saw me if you know what's good for you."

The bartender was nodding his head. He visibly swallowed. "Yeah, sure, we didn't see who did this. It all happened too fast. I…I had just gone out back."

I looked around the room.

"We just got here and found them like this," the others said.

The whore looked up. "I'm going home. Wasn't never here." She scrambled to her feet and scurried out the back door, stumbling and almost falling once.

I turned and left the bar, going straight to my car. I climbed inside and glanced in the rearview mirror. Fuck, I looked like the one who lost the fight. I reached into the glove compartment and finally found something to wipe the blood off my face and hands.

When I glanced in the rearview mirror again, I knew I looked like a crazed man. I ran my fingers through my hair, then gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. After a few deep breaths, I started the car and drove away.

That wasn't you back there, Jude.

"Maybe I've changed." I reached over and turned the radio on full blast.

I didn't let myself think about anything during the drive home. I concentrated on the music pouring out of the radio. I parked in front of the house and went inside, going straight to the den. As I was pouring myself a whiskey, Caspian and Ezra came in. They took one look at me and stopped in their tracks.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Caspian asked.

"I went into a bar, some assholes wanted to start a fight, I finished it." I downed the whiskey in my glass, then poured another before I walked over to the sofa and dropped down onto it.

"Do we need to clean up a mess?" Ezra grabbed a beer from the small refrigerator behind the bar, returned to one of the chairs, and sat across from me.

"Wasn't that kind of bar." I stretched my legs out in front of me. "It was a dump. Not many people, only a few rednecks, one worn-out whore, and the bartender. The ones that are left won't be saying anything."

"And why even go in if you knew there might be trouble?"

I looked up and met Caspian's gaze. "Maybe I was looking for a fight."

Ezra shook his head. "This isn't like you. You don't go looking for a fight."

"Maybe it is me. I just kept that part buried." I looked at them. "It made me feel alive again. You both know what I'm talking about. None of us have been the same since she died." My words cracked.

Caspian dragged his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, maybe I do know what you mean. I doubt any of us will ever forget her."

He dropped onto the other chair, staring down at his hands. I knew what he was looking at: the scars on his hands. He'd burned one hand when he grabbed the door handle, but the other had the imprint of the necklace we had given Rissa, one larger heart with three hearts falling. It was scorched into his hand. Forever a reminder of what had been lost that night. That alone would keep him from forgetting her, not that I thought any of us ever would.

"We've all changed." I took a drink of my whiskey, then set the glass on the end table and rubbed a hand across my eyes. Fuck, I missed her so damned much.

"Don't do anything so stupid again. Not unless you take us with you," Ezra warned.

"Yeah, I know it was a dumb thing to do. Do you think we'll ever get back to normal?" I couldn't help asking.

Caspian was shaking his head. "I don't know. I doubt it."

Our father walked into the room, surveying the scene. Like us, Brandt Morelli was over six feet tall, with dark hair and green eyes. He was still good-looking for being in his fifties. "You've moped around here long enough. I know what you're going through. I know you three think I'm a hard ass, but I wasn't always like this. I loved your mother more than anything. When she was murdered, I went after the men who caused her death, then I slowly tortured and killed them."

I looked at our father. I'd never heard him talk about this before.

"Killing someone never really stops the pain," he continued. "It made me feel a hell of a lot better, but the pain is still there. You have to move on, or the memories will destroy you. I poured myself into the business and rose to the top. I was going to make sure no one ever touched my family again. If they did, they'd be signing their death warrant. Caspian, you'll inherit my position as head of the family, but Ezra and Jude will be there to help you. This will always be a family business. All three of you need to know what's happening inside and out. Pour yourself into that, and the pain will ease.

He looked around the room, his gaze stopping on me. I shifted in my seat.

"Jude, go take a fucking shower. You look like crap, and you have blood all over you."

He turned and walked out of the room. That was our father. Hard as hell, but we still loved him.

"Dad's right." Caspian came to his feet. "We can't mourn her forever. We all loved Rissa, but she's gone now. Let's get to work." He grimaced. "As soon as you take a shower, Jude. Fuck, you have blood everywhere."

If nothing else, I knew I would always have my brothers and my father. We would get through this.