Forrest made his way through the crowded club, ignoring the looks sent his way. He wasn’t exactly dressed for his surroundings, but clothes weren’t the first thing he considered when his brother had called in a panic. He’d been celebrating his Alpha’s wedding when his phone had flashed, his brother’s name glowing like an omen.
He’d shed his suit and five hours later had parked up outside the miserable little pub his brother ran, only to discover he’d left to meet a friend at a nightclub in the middle of town. Needless to say, he hadn’t been impressed. He’d terrified the young barmaid who had squeaked the addressed before virtually tearing the door from its hinges on the way out.
His brother was sat in a booth in the furthest corner of the room and stood to greet him. He raised his hands as if to embrace his brother but the look on Forrest’s face made him freeze and he dropped both arms to his sides.
“You want to tell me why I’ve had to drag my ass to this godforsaken place? Why the fuck are you doing business with drug dealers?”
Christopher paled and motioned for him to sit.
“A little quieter brother.”
Forrest’s eyes narrowed as he took in his brother’s appearance. They couldn’t be more different. Christopher was a few inches shorter than Forrest’s 6ft 5ins frame and skinny with it. His brown eyes were framed by dark smudges that hinted at sleepless nights and his jaw fuzzy with scruff. Where Forrest was wide and muscular, Christopher was thin and wiry. And then there was the expensive suit, Christopher’s effort to move up in the world. Forrest glanced down briefly at his faded jeans and t-shirt. He and his brother were like oil and water. Which wasn’t surprising since they only shared a mother.
“You look like shit,” he said finally, settling his gaze on his brother.
Christopher laughed ruefully, the empty sound held no joy, “It’s been a shit week.”
“I fucked up, ok?” Christopher’s eyes dropped to his hands as he picked at the skin around his thumbs.
“What’s new?” Forrest leaned back and let his gaze wander around the club. His sharp eyes picked up the armed security guards situated at each entrance.
“Yeah, well this time it’s…” Christopher’s voice trailed off and he glanced over his shoulder. When he turned back, his eyes were wide with panic. “This time it’s bad. Dead bad.”
Forrest sighed and grabbed the untouched glass of whisky from in front of his brother. He downed it and slammed the glass back down.
“Tell me everything.”
“I agreed to let some people sell some stuff at the pub.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Coke, a little H,” Christopher shrugged as if it was irrelevant. “Anyway, one night they asked to store it in my safe. £50k worth of coke.”
Forrest couldn’t help the eye roll. He wouldn’t trust his brother to hold his drink let alone anything worth that amount of money.
“It went missing,” Christopher’s gaze returned to his hands. He picked so hard at the skin on his right thumb that it began to bleed.
“And what exactly can I do for you?”
“I know who has the stuff, I can get it back. But-” he raised his eyes to meet Forrest’s.
“You need some muscle.”
Christopher nodded, “Come on brother, you know I’m not made for fighting. But you – one look at you and they’ll turn tail and run. They’ll let me make this right if you help me!”
Forrest’s expression gave nothing away. He was torn. There was a part of him that wanted to get up and walk away. The part that wanted Christopher to suffer some consequences for his stupid actions. The part that was sick of bailing his idiotic younger brother out.
But he couldn’t.
When he closed his eyes, he could still see his mother as she leaned baby Christopher forward. He could still smell her perfume as she enveloped him in a long hug and told him he had to take care of his brother. He would never shake those final memories.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Where are the drugs?”