“You’ve been dodging my calls,” he accused.
“Personal lives don’t cross into work,” I reminded him.
This was a rule—a line drawn that we all agreed on. With four siblings in law enforcement, we needed it. Our paths crossed and when they did it was important that family ties didn’t cloud our judgment. Our jobs intersected—Echo worked drugs, River worked gangs, and Phoenix worked guns. Between the four of us, we had all the special squads covered.
I loved that the Kent family worked hard to make a difference. Nothing would ever make what my dad did right, nothing would bring a dead man back to life, but the four of us could give something to the community, to the departments we serve. It wasn’t enough but it was something.
My brothers felt the same way, only they wished I’d elected to be a traffic cop. It was too bad for them; growing up they taught me not to take shit from anyone and be who I was and who I wanted to be no matter who was standing in my way. I reckoned they never thought it would be them I’d go up against when it came to choosing my career. Obviously, I won. I became who I wanted to be and worked a job I loved and simply ignored them when they bitched and complained.
“You’re not briefed, the job hasn’t started.”
I glanced down at my bulletproof vest then back up at my brother.
“Funny, I thought the second I put on body armor and holstered my weapon I was on the job.”
“There’s nothing funny about you not taking my calls,” Echo continued. “River said he was at your house and some asshole showed up.”
My temper flared and I’d learned a long time ago not to hold back when I was dealing with my overbearing ape of a brother.
“First, do not call Luke an asshole. Second, it wasn’t River’s business to tell you who was at my house. And third, it’s not your business so back off.”
Echo stood to his full six-foot-five inches, crossed his arms, and stared down at me. My brother was big, huge actually. He’d grown into his height by the time he was seventeen—that meant he’d towered over me my whole life. When I was a petulant teenager and he got this way, I’d stand on a chair so I was eye level with him. Once when I was in a tizzy because he was being particularly over-protective I climbed onto the kitchen table so I could look down at him for a change. He didn’t find me amusing, never had, Echo was far too serious. He had to be when he was solely responsible for raising three younger siblings.
That thought should’ve quelled my anger but he’d called Luke an asshole and I wouldn’t let that slide.
“Luke Marcou being at my baby sister’s place is one hundred percent my business.”
“How’d you know his last name?”
“River told me then I looked into him.”
Fucking River.
Fucking Echo.
“Bet that was fascinating,” I snapped. “Glad to know you have so much free time on your hands. Does that mean Georgia’s streets are clean of drugs?”
My brother’s eyes narrowed.
“Lose the attitude.”
Gah. He was so annoying.
“No can do, big brother. Not when you’re acting like a jerk. I’m at an age where I can invite who I want to my house and I don’t need your permission. Or River’s or Phoenix’s. We’re at work, I have a job to do, and since you’re here I assume you have something to do, too. So this conversation is over. But to end it right I want to tell you that I love you, I appreciate you being the kind of brother that wants to look out for his sister, and the kind of man who loves his family. But you’re out of line. Invading Luke’s privacy was a shit thing to do. And that I don’t appreciate.”
I turned back to my trunk, reached into my bag, pulled out my thigh rig and strapped it on, loaded a second nine mil into the holster, grabbed my ear pro and helmet, and slammed the trunk closed. My rifle would be waiting for me in the APC.
Time to get to work.
“Do you know he was a SEAL?” Echo asked, not willing to give up.
“Sure do. I also know he was medically discharged and he works at Triple Canopy.”
“He tell you about the explosion?”
“Not the details which, since the explosion happened while he was a SEAL, I doubt he can say much about it. Why?”
“Something like that can change a man.”
I turned to fully face my brother. I tried to remember a time when he was a kid—carefree, no responsibility, free to be Echo, not a caregiver. But I came up empty.
Did my mother taking off leaving my criminal father with four kids change Echo? Of course, it did. It changed us all. Did my father being in and out of jail change him? Again yes. And when our father finally got locked up for good did it change Echo permanently, turning him into who he was? It sure did.
But Luke was not Echo. Luke was forthcoming. He smiled. He laughed. He teased.
My brother did none of those things.
“You’re very right. But sometimes the change isn’t bad. Sometimes it makes you look at your life in a new light. Sometimes it forces you to change in ways that make you a better person. I don’t know Luke well enough to know if that’s the case. But I can say this—I know Ethan Lenox. I know his father. And you know Jason Walker pretty damn well. If Luke wasn’t a good man no way in hell he’d be working at Triple Canopy. No fucking way would any of those men trust him if they didn’t believe in him. Again, brother, love you, but please stop talking before this turns into a fight before I have to kick in a door.”
Another rule, no ugly words before work. The four of us were acutely aware of the dangers of our jobs. We didn’t learn that from being cops, we learned when my father murdered one in cold blood.
“I’ll let it go…for now,” he conceded.
“Fantastic. Now tell me what’s going on?”
“Todd English. Thirty-nine. I’ve been making buys from him for three months. This morning I finally got into the house. Three bedrooms upstairs—two used for packaging meth and fentanyl. The third is all pharmaceuticals. I didn’t weigh it but I got a good look, I’d say he’s got two kilos of meth ready for distribution and enough fentanyl to take out the town. He’s got two women living with him. Bedroom’s bottom floor, south side. Garage is north side. I couldn’t miss the smell of ether when I was in the living room. Didn’t get a look but I’m betting English has a lab in the garage.”
That was a lot of meth, over four pounds of it.
“Why isn’t the DEA involved in this?”
“They are. English is only a cog in this operation. We want him to flip—tell us who’s running the heroin.”
“Never fucking ends,” I muttered.
“Nope. Never fucking does, little sister.”
Echo threw a big, heavy arm around my shoulders and tucked me to his side.
“Easy there, big guy,” I grunted and pulled my cheek off his vest. “You’re gonna take out my eye with a corner of a mag.”
“Wuss.”
“Buffoon.”
“Be safe in there. I clocked three shotguns in the living room, an AR in the weighing room, and English was strapped. And watch the women—”
“Not my first time kickin’ in a door,” I cut him off.