Blood Line (A Tom Rollins Thriller Book 1) by Paul Heatley (korean ebook reader txt) 📕

It was a couple of hours before they had any time alone, pretending that they didn’t know each other already, that this was their first meeting. Anthony went to get pizza. Tom and Alejandra stepped out onto the porch.

“So Anthony doesn’t know we’re already familiar,” Tom says.

“Not yet,” Alejandra says. “I didn’t think it was the best time to tell him, not with you coming to visit. But I will. I’m going to.”

“How come you haven’t already?”

“It took me some time to realize that he was your brother. He doesn’t talk about you, and it’s not like there are any pictures here of the two of you together.”

“You didn’t notice any similarities?”

“Yes, actually, I did. I thought that was why I was attracted to him, because he looked like you.”

“Should I be flattered?”

“I don’t know how you should feel.”

“What about when you found out his last name?”

“At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But it niggled at me. So I started to ask about his family. Then he finally told me about you. About his older brother, in the army. I was going to tell him then, but I couldn’t. By then, I was in love with him. I didn’t know how he would take it. I was scared of how he would take it.”

Tom couldn’t respond to this, not right away. She loved his brother. This cut him deep.

“I’m sorry, Tom,” she said.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Tom said, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t expect you to put your life on hold. Part of me knew you might move on, I just hoped you wouldn’t, but that’s out of my hands. I’m happy for you, Alejandra. Really. For both of you.”

Soon after that, Anthony returned with the pizza. That night, when Tom was in the guest room, Alejandra told Anthony the truth. That she and Tom knew each other already, and how. Tom heard them discuss it. They discussed it loudly, particularly his brother. Tom lay awake, expecting his brother to come bursting into the room at any moment. He kept making out like he was going to. Alejandra kept stopping him, calming him.

The next morning, at the breakfast table, Anthony was cool toward his brother. He looked at him. “Alejandra told me how you know each other already,” he said.

He got over it. It didn’t take long. Anthony was in love with Alejandra. He wasn’t going to jeopardize his relationship with her just because of his petty jealousies regarding his older brother. The feeling he would never be able to escape his shadow.

Tom thinks about another time. Just he and Alejandra, out on the porch again, though under happier circumstances this time. Tom never stopped loving her, though he knew it would always go unrequited. She was telling him about Mexico, about Guaymas. “It sounds like a very beautiful place,” Tom said.

“Maybe I’m just remembering it through rose-tinted glasses,” Alejandra said. “But it shines very brightly in my mind.”

Tom nodded along. “Well, you make it sound very special. I’ll have to visit it someday.”

“Maybe I’ll take you,” she said. “I’ll go back, one day. I’ll have to. I miss it too much. Every day, I miss it more.”

In the car, around the car, it has gotten dark. It’s late; it’s after one in the morning. Tom sees activity at the front door of the bar. People are leaving. It’s clearing out. Peter is there, seeing them off. He doesn’t leave with them, though. He goes back inside. The door is locked. The outside lights are turned off. The bar is closed.

Tom doesn’t go right away. He waits. Lets them get comfortable. But it’s getting close. It’s almost time for him to make his first move.

30

Peter sees off the last few stragglers, escorts them to the door, sends them on their drunken way. He watches for a moment as they weave and stumble off down the road, heading home. A couple of them get into cars. They’ve had a couple of beers, sure, but they aren’t so drunk that they can’t be trusted behind the wheel. Peter waves them off, then goes back inside.

It’s been a quiet night. Ordinarily, Peter would be annoyed at this, bored out of his mind. He likes when it’s busy, when he’s had a chance to get his hands dirty, to put someone on their ass or throw them out the door. Now, though, he’s grateful. He’s got too much else on his mind. Too much to think about, worry about.

He goes behind the bar, gets himself a drink. “You’ve been awful quiet tonight, Peter,” says one of his buddies, leaning over to speak to him. “Ain’t like you. You all right?”

“I’m fine,” Peter says. “Just tired is all, I guess.”

His friend nods along. “I get that, man,” he says.

There are seven men still in the bar, not including Peter. Some are members of the Right Arm; some are merely affiliates. They’re all friends. They have beers in hand; they’re setting up a table in the middle of the room, getting out the cards. They’ll play poker for a few hours; then they’ll head home for the night. Tomorrow, they’ll do it all over again.

Peter takes a seat as the cards are being shuffled, dealt. He takes another long swig of his beer. It’s taking the edge off, but only a little. He can’t relax, not totally, as he usually would. He’s thinking about his brother, still. Hasn’t been able to concentrate on anything else lately.

He’s deliberated for a long time, but he knows what he has to do. Has to tell the rest of the council of his suspicions regarding his brother. That he believes Steve was the one to call Anthony, warn him that they were on the way. That he’s also sure Steve called the police, sent them out looking for a potential altercation.

It won’t be easy to come clean about this. If Steve had only told him the truth, Peter perhaps would have been