Then again, skipping to the second hotel in three days and hiding from the police, Sacrilege, Temple, and Kingdom wasn’t a relaxing vacation. No amount of free cable or complimentary breakfasts healed tortured memories either. Bodies. Heads. Bullets. If it bothered Brew, he didn’t show it. It bothered me, but I hoped he didn’t notice. Even I had my limits. For as much as I liked a pair of muscular arms wrapping over me, I panicked when Brew trapped me in his embrace. He used me as collateral to save his ass, and I was grateful for it. But Brew had Goliath’s brutality, Red’s intelligence, and so much forlorn baggage that I feared I’d end up six feet under just like my father and uncle. The thought bothered me. A lot. Too much. I wavered on adrenaline-fueled, unrepentant stupidity when I challenged Brew about his past, but it worked. He told me about Anathema. He told me how he betrayed his club in an effort to save them with drug money and an underhanded attempt to destroy the usurper who split the ranks.
