He grunts, walking along the railing from the bow to the mid-section of the ship, where a narrow gangplank extends onto the dock. His boots clang against the metal as he descends halfway down. I wonder if they’re steel-toed. I wonder if he’s planning to curb-stomp me before I’ve even made it on the fucking boat.
“Jaxon didn’t mention you were coming by,” the stranger says, eyeing me suspiciously. His hair is close-shaved, his eyes are cold.
“He doesn’t know.” I shrug casually. “Is he here or not?”
He crosses his arms over his chest and stares me down. I notice his left hand bears a crown tattoo I recognize — the Latin King’s signature ink. I make a point not to glance at it, keeping my eyes locked on his. I can’t help flinching as he whistles without warning, a piercing sound that shatters the still night.
“Yo! Boss!” he yells over his shoulder. “Someone’s here to see you.” He looks back at me for a long moment. “Wait there.”
I stand stock-still as the man turns and walks back to his spot at the bow, disappearing back into the darkness like he’s part of the night itself. Only the occasional flare as he takes a drag from the cigarette butt reveals he’s still there, watching me from the shadows.
Jaxon emerges a few seconds later. He says nothing as he makes his way down the gangplank, coming to a stop a few feet from me. His pinprick eyes flicker back and forth over my face, restlessly reading my expression. There’s a tightness in his shoulders, a coiled sort of tension in his clenched fists.
“What are you doing here, Archer?”
“Can’t a little brother come say hello without a reason?” I strive for a light tone.
“Not after the way we left things last time.” His voice is hard with anger. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, showing your face in front of me.”
“That’s why I came. All right? I wanted to apologize for being such an ass the other night. You were trying to look out for me and I didn’t even give you a chance. I was in a shitty mood and I bit your head off for no reason.” I grit my teeth. “I’m sorry, Jax.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?”
“I thought about what you said — about us being family. Being connected by blood. With Ma and Pa gone, it’s just you and me left around here. If we’re fighting… I’ve got no one. I’m alone. And I’m sick of being alone. I’m even more sick of scraping by like some pathetic loser, hauling lobster traps. I can’t do it for another fifty years, Jax. I won’t make it.”
He nods, but his eyes are still wary. “Thought you said you’d rather be by yourself than be my brother. That you’d prefer being a poor lobsterman for the rest of your life than taking my help.”
“Maybe… I need your help after all. Maybe… I was wrong.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Nope.” I try out a laugh, though inside I’m burning with resentment. “Probably not the last, either. I am a Reyes, after all.”
“That you are.” Some of the ice melts out of his expression. “Glad you’ve pulled your head out of your ass in time to see the light.”
Pushing down the urge to punch him right in his smug, self-satisfied face, I force myself to step closer and stick out my hand for him to shake. “What do you say? Can we be brothers again?”
Closing the distance between us, he slides his hand into mine. Instead of shaking it, he hauls me forward, into a tight embrace.
“Brothers,” he echoes, thumping me on the back hard enough to rattle my lungs. “Family. Forever. We’re gonna build a dynasty around here, Arch. We’re gonna show everyone who tries to fuck with us that the Reyes name deserves respect.” He pushes me back, punching me in the shoulder. “Now, come on. I’ll introduce you to the crew.”
My pulse is pounding as I step onto the narrow gangplank. I follow Jaxon up the incline, trying to keep my breaths shallow as I step onto the ship. She rocks lightly with the incoming tide, swaying against her dock lines.
“Welcome aboard the lovely Reina. Our queen of the seas.” Jaxon’s grin is a flash of white in the darkness. There’s a manic edge to it. I wonder if he’s been sampling whatever products fill the holds beneath our feet. “That’s Cisco up on the bow. You’ve already met. And down here…”
I follow him into the main cabin, squinting against the sudden burst of light against my retinas. It takes a moment for the spots to clear from my visual field. When they do, I find myself standing in a fairly large room with wood-paneled walls and round, portal windows dotted every few feet. There are three men seated at a built-in table to my right, playing a round of poker. Two handguns sit beside the stack of cards. A clear plastic bag of something white and granular rests beside an ashtray.
The room goes completely still as we enter. Even the smoke trailing from their cigarettes seems to halt midair. I try to breathe, try to remember that there’s a team of highly trained agents only moments away if these men decide to squash me a like a bug against a windshield — which is pretty much what their expressions are broadcasting.
Fuck.
“That’s Lopez,” Jax points to a middle-aged man with massive fists and a teardrop tattoo on his face. “That’s Stutter.” His finger swings toward a shorter, stockier man with chest muscles bulging from his soiled wife-beater. “And that skinny guy is Gordo.” Jax laughs at the third man, who can’t weigh more than a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet. He looks barely old enough to drive, let alone be seated at that table, but he bristles with bravado when he catches me starting at him.
“Figueroa is asleep in the bunk room, through there.” Jaxon jerks his chin to the left, where a dim hallway extends into darkness beyond my line of sight. “There are only four berths, so we sleep in shifts. ‘Cept me, of course. I get my own room. Captain’s quarters. My perk for organizing this little expedition.”
The rest of the crew look considerably less thrilled by this setup than Jaxon. In fact, they look borderline homicidal as they stare from me to my brother and back again in terse silence.
“Who the fuck is he?” Lopez asks, setting down his cards.