4. Gage

Chapter Four

GAGE

The fresh upholstery scent of Mason’s car freshener was making my stomach churn.

“Your car stinks,” I grouched, slumping down in the buttery leather of the Porsche's bucket seat.

“Then get out and walk,” Mason replied without taking his eyes from the road, completely unfazed.

I rolled my eyes and leaned my head against the window, taking small sips of air through my mouth to filter out the chemical stench.

On the other side of the glass, Devil’s Garden was rolling by in all its messy glory.The town had been on a slow slide toward trashy for a long time, but it was worse than I remembered.Big city problems with small town charm.Boarded up storefronts lined the streets, replacing the family diners and hardware shops with hand-painted signs that used to be there.Now, the only signs I saw were for payday loans and strip clubs.There were still traces of old-timey charm in the faded American flags and cobblestone streets, but it was a losing battle.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, we were pulling to a stop in front of the house.Mansion. Whatever. Eden House, we called it.A forgotten relic tucked away on an estate bigger than a city park.The place was a strange mix of old and older, a property that didn’t fit into any one era or style.It dripped with all the southern charm of white columns and wrap-around porches that looked straight out of a movie set, but it pre-dated the antebellum facade.The stone archways, crumbling statues, and overgrown courtyards held a deeper history.A monastery had once stood here, built by Jesuit priests during the French Colonial Period.During the war, they'd used it to run their own kind of underground business.Not the shady kind, though. The righteous kind.After that, it became an orphanage.There were plenty of orphans after the war—and then all the wars that followed.

The bones of such a complicated history were all over Eden, though most people didn't know where to look.They'd have to know where to dig.When we were kids, my brothers and I would spend hours tearing through the place from attic to cellar, and I still wasn’t convinced we’d found all the hidden tunnels and trap doors.

The Beaufort family picked up the property for dirt cheap during the Great Depression, back when even the church was flat broke.By the time Boone inherited it, the shine was long gone.The place felt strangely hollow.For every sweeping staircase and stained-glass window, there were rotting lawns, furniture nobody had touched in years, and rooms that felt like tombs.

As a bachelor, Boone couldn’t make use of such a big house on his own, so he turned it back into what it had once been: a place for wayward boys and lost causes.Kids came and went, but me and my brothers—we stuck around.Maybe Boone saw something in us he recognized, something wild and broken that reminded him of himself.He never said it, but I knew.Boone didn’t keep just anyone.

Mason parked, but he didn’t kill the engine or make any move to get out.He folded a stick of mint gum into his mouth and gave me a look, part warning, part pity.“I’ve got to get back to the hospital and finish the paperwork for Ivy’s emergency care.They’re keeping her overnight, then she’ll be placed with us until the state can figure out what to do with her.”

“She’s really gonna be okay?” I asked.I’d tried talking with her before we left the hospital, but she’d been doped up on meds and barely said two words.She couldn’t seem to look me in the eye.She talked more openly around Mason, so I hadn’t stayed long.

Mason’s face softened for a second.“Physically? She’ll be fine. She’s banged up, but that’s the easy part.The rest…that’s gonna take a while.You know how it is.”

I nodded.

Mason's gaze was unfocused as he stared through the windshield.He just kept working his jaw, chewing his gum, a habit that usually meant he was thinking something over.The sharp scent of mint filled the car, strangely soothing compared to the artificial air freshener.Finally, he said, “You’re not walking into the same place you left.You know that, right?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He took his time, folding the gum wrapper between his fingers.When he spoke, he did it slowly, like he was breaking bad news to a client.“Things didn’t get easier on any of us after Ben went to prison.It's like he was the glue that held this place together.With him gone, Boone's health going to shit, and you jerking off in Vegas, guess who was left holding the bag?"

"It wasn't my choice to leave," I muttered, but the knot that had been forming in my stomach all morning tightened.Because the truth was, I'd chosen to stay gone.

Mason shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.Honest conversations weren't his thing.“Doesn’t matter why you left,” he said firmly.“Loyalty is what matters. You didn’t stick around when things got rough.You didn’t even make it back in time for Boone’s funeral, and you know how those two are.They don’t forget.”

“Look, I'm back now, aren't I?" I retorted, feeling my shoulders tense up again.They still hadn't unclenched from my run-in with Wyatt."It's not like I would've been much help around here, anyway.You're the lawyer, not me. What good am I to you?Or Dom and Gideon? What do I know about filing an appeal or running a foster program?"

"About as much as Gideon knew when he took it over." Mason's eyes flickered with irritation behind his wire-rim glasses."The point is that we've been here doing the work while you were off finding yourself or whatever."

I flushed and glanced out the window, my fist clenching and unclenching on top of my thigh."I've only got one skill, and you know it.Boone wasn't ever gonna let me go after Vanderhoff.That was his line in the sand, so it was better to stay away."

I still didn’t understand why Boone, with all his wealth and connections, hadn’t fought harder.Once Ben was sentenced, he just rolled over and gave up, focusing all his energy on keeping the rest of us out of trouble.Almost overnight, he became an old man, no longer uncompromising and unafraid, but...scared.

Mason sighed and leaned forward, resting his arms on the steering wheel as he gazed out the windshield.“I’m just giving you a friendly warning, little bro.Our reunion went a lot smoother than it’ll go with the others.Gideon’s been carrying a heavy load, and Dominic…well, he hasn’t changed much.”

“I get it,” I said tightly, reaching for the door handle.“Thanks for the lift.”

Mason’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.“Call me if you need anything,” he said, shifting into reverse and pulling off in a perfect three-point turn.

I watched the cherry red sports car pull away, feeling like I’d just been dumped on the front line with nothing but a broken bayonet—and now the cavalry was leaving.I let out a long breath and stuffed my hands into my pockets.My wallet and keys were long gone, lifted while I was out cold.All I had left were bruises and a queasy feeling in my stomach. At least Mason had recovered my cell phone from my glovebox, but he’d left the Buick sitting in the parking lot. It wasn’t worth the tow.

Usually, I took the porch steps two at a time, but not today.I climbed slowly, aching and sore all over from my beating, and breathed the scents of home for the first time in five years.The air smelled of magnolia and fresh cut grass, nostalgic smells I used to dream about while I was huffing exhaust in Vegas.I paused at the door with my hand on the antique brass knocker.It was shaped like a vine-covered chalice, a symbol of the Eucharist, or so Gideon used to say.I’d never paid much attention.

So much time had passed since I'd last stood on this threshold.I'd thought I changed, but standing here, I realized I never would.The important things were still there: the loneliness, the rage, and the violence pulsing like poison through my blood.Gifts I'd inherited from my father, the same man who'd nearly killed me dozens of times, and then came back and tried to finish the job the moment he got out of prison.If it hadn't been for Ben, he might've succeeded.Ben had taken that hit for me, and nothing I ever did could purge my guilt.I'd given up trying.

The smell of aged wood and lemon polish hit me the second I opened the door.A fat lamp with a marble base sat on the credenza by the entry, somehow unbroken even after all the times we’d knocked it around.I could almost hear Ben and Mason laughing or Dominic’s gruff voice calling us for dinner.There was Gideon's deep, gentle murmur...and Boone.His voice was always the loudest, the kind of voice that could change you if you let it. Do good. Make this town a better place than the one you were born into.

My brothers had taken that to heart in their own ways.Even Dominic. But not me. I was a ticking time bomb, and my only goal was to blow up without taking anyone down with me.It would be more than my father ever managed.

I brushed a hand over the worn bannister of the grand staircase and looked around.I swore I could hear the echo of footsteps, like ghosts I couldn't see, only feel.Took me a second—and the click of a door—to realize it wasn't a ghost.

Dominic stepped out from the north wing, the section of the house Boone had set up for the foster program.A burst of teenage laughter trailed after him before the door swung shut, cutting the noise off from the rest of the house.

The kids had a social worker and an on-site matron to keep an eye on them around the clock, but it took a team.These days, Mason mostly handled the legal headaches, dealing with court cases and custody battles that nobody else wanted to touch.Gideon served as headmaster, and Dominic…well, he had a unique set of skills.

He moved with that light, catlike step of his, eerily quiet for a guy his size.He was about my own height but slimmer, and yet he had so much presence that it made him seem a foot taller.Like always, he was dressed in black: a plain t-shirt and expensive slacks.No fuss, no statement. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his looks; he just couldn’t be bothered with fashion.He didn’t need to dress up to be the scariest thing in the room.

“Look who finally crawled back home.” His whiskey-colored eyes had a predatory gleam.“Missed a hell of a funeral, little brother.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“I hope dicking around in Vegas was worth it,” Dominic said, letting irony drip off his thick southern drawl.

I rolled my shoulders and forced myself not to snap back.“Didn’t know you’d miss me.”

Dominic didn't smile, but one eyebrow lifted like I'd said something funny.“No one missed you, Gage.”

Ouch. That stung, but I didn’t let it show.That was just Dominic’s way. Always had been.

“Nice ‘welcome home,’” I snorted.

“You expected a parade?”

“Not from you.” I felt a smirk coming on despite my better judgment.Dominic was like a cat who couldn't resist batting at any string I dangled.“What are you doing here, Dom?You don’t even live here anymore.”

He liked to stick close to his restaurant for emergencies, so he had his own apartment downtown.Sometimes, I wondered if things would have gone down differently if he'd still been living with us.He'd have killed my father without a second thought, so maybe he'd be the one in prison instead of Ben.But I doubted it. Dom was the kind of guy who knew how to hide a body.

He’d always made my skin crawl a little, but it wasn’t that I feared him.More like I knew exactly what he was capable of, and it unsettled me.There was always an unspoken threat in his eyes.Even Boone had been careful around him.The only one who never seemed to care was Gideon.

One thing was certain: Dominic wouldn’t be dumping anyone half-dead in a gator pit.He'd finish the job first.

He leaned one hip against the bannister, arms crossed, looking amused.It was the only expression that ever seemed to cross that stony face.“Mason called,” he said flatly.“He warned us you were bringing trouble with you, so I was bracing the kids for a new arrival.”

“You mean the girl?”

“That’s the one.” He jerked his head toward the north wing.“This is a good group. Soft. They’ve never had a girl with them before, but I made sure they know how to behave.”

“Thanks.” I shifted, suddenly feeling guilty for not even thinking about the practical stuff.Wyatt, Mason, and Dom were doing the heavy lifting.All I’d done was throw a few punches.Typical.

Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Leave it to you to land neck-deep in shit the second you arrive."

My spine stiffened, sending a flash of pain through my sore ribs.“I was trying to help.”

“Help?” he scoffed. “You just got home, and the sheriff is already sniffing around.He’s got deputies shaking down every bar in town for the guys you tangled with.He ain’t lookin' for the truth, little brother.Just enough leverage to twist their words into something he can use against us.Like I don’t have enough to deal with.”

“I’ll handle him,” I interrupted.

“Not yet, you won’t.” Dominic’s eyes flickered.There was no warmth in them. “You’ll sit on your hands and behave until Ben is free.That means keeping away from cops.Especially your good ol’ pal Deputy Brooks.More than half the cops in this parish are dirty, and he’s been living awfully cozy these days.”

Wyatt had plenty of irritating qualities, but corruption wasn’t one of them.He was a man of honor. He’d made that crystal clear the night I’d failed to seduce him.

I opened my mouth to object, but Dominic didn’t give me the chance.“Mason said he wouldn’t leave your side at the hospital.Think that’s a coincidence? You’re irresistible now?You used to be all over his dick, and he still didn’t want anything to do with you.”

“Jesus, you’re a real charmer,” I muttered.Heat was creeping up the back of my neck, but it sure as hell wasn’t embarrassment.Just good old-fashioned fury.

Dominic locked eyes with me, but he didn’t square up like most guys would.He just waited, cool as ice, and before I could think twice, I’d already stepped forward to do something I’d probably regret.Two fights in as many days wasn't my worst record, not by a long shot, but before my fist could land, a chill washed over me.

Dominic felt it too. His head came up like a shot, and his eyes narrowed.I followed his line of sight and there, at the top landing of the staircase, stood Gideon.

It was like staring straight at the sun.The foyer was dim, so Gideon should have faded into the shadows in his black clerical outfit, but somehow he caught every scrap of light and reflected it back at us.Looking at him almost hurt.

I took a step back, shamed for reasons I couldn’t explain, but Gideon didn’t so much as glance my way.His eyes were locked on Dominic.They stared each other down like they were having a silent conversation, and I didn’t even speak the language.All I knew was that something was seriously off between my two oldest brothers.

The tension was so thick I could barely breathe.

Dominic’s jaw clenched, and for the briefest second, I thought I caught a flash of guilt cross his face.But then it was gone, buried under an armor of cool indifference.Without a word, he turned and walked away.

Didn’t look back even once.

I watched him go and then looked up atGideon.He hadn’t moved, watching expressionlessly until the front door closed behindDominic.Finally, he cut his eyes down tome.There was no judgment in his gaze, but it felt like he saw through all my bullshit in a singleglance.

“Later,” he said simply.

Then he was gone. I let out a breath, rubbing the goosebumps off the back of myneck.“Scary motherfuckers,” I muttered under mybreath.

Whatever was brewing between them, I didn’t want to be in the middle ofit...but something told me I wouldn’t get achoice.