Reath dropped heavily into a chair.

“Don’t get blood on my furniture,” I said.

“It’s leather,” Colton said. “It’ll clean.”

With a sigh, I set my glass down, then went over and opened the cabinet. I pulled out a huge first aid kit.

“Shirt off,” I ordered.

Reath slipped off his ruined gray shirt, exposing brown skin stretched over hard muscles. Black ink covered Reath’s back—the intricate image of a rising phoenix. Colt and Reath couldn’t look more different. Colt was six-foot-three and packed with lean muscle. He had a neat beard, a near-permanent scowl, and tattoos on his forearms.

He was a bounty hunter. A good one. Years spent in foster homes and on the street had made him good at sneaking around, and tracking things—namely people—down.

Reath was a few inches shorter than Colt—same height as me—but more muscular. He didn’t know who his biological parents were, but he had some African American ancestry. He had brown skin, black hair he kept cut ruthlessly short, and a face that always caught women’s attention. We’d teased him for being so pretty his entire life.

He also had this easy, liquid way of moving that made him seem relaxed. He wasn’t. He could move faster and fight dirtier than anyone I knew.

Right now, he also had a knife gash on his muscled bicep.

“It doesn’t look too deep.” I pulled out an antiseptic wipe and started cleaning it.

Reath grunted.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I was checking out a few leads. I got jumped by a junkie with a knife who wanted my wallet.”

The junkie had picked the wrong guy.

“Is he still breathing?” I pulled out the glue.

“Yes,” Reath muttered unhappily.

“Through his broken jaw,” Colt added as he poured himself a drink.

I glued up the cut. Reath’s dark skin had a collection of scars—knife wounds, a couple of puckered gunshot scars, old burns.

I blew out a breath. We’d all worked out our demons in our own way, and Reath had done it working for Uncle Sam. At least he wasn’t flying around the world to God-knew-where, to take on the bad guys anymore.

“I need your help with something,” I said. “A banger called Easy-C is trying to jack up Eddie’s kid, Tommy.”

Reath’s dark eyes flashed. “He’s part of the Big Gs. Yeah, I can deal with him. You coming with me?”

I smiled. “Fuck, yeah.”

My brother nodded. “I’ll find him and let you know.”

No questions asked. The Fury brothers took care of their own, and I always knew my brothers had my back.

They were the only people I could count on.

A pair of clear gray eyes, swimming in secrets, filled my head.

Who could Mila count on?

“You’re closing up now?” Colt asked.

“Soon.”

“Want to come to mine for a drink?”