"Well, then, when can we get together?"

Was he serious? "I'm sorry, I have to go. I mean, like right now, or I could miss my flight." I made myself add, "I'll talk to you after the funeral."

"But Jen, I came all this way..."

"Maybe the FBI will give me some leave time before my first assignment and we can go somewhere fun, just the two of us."

Although that wasn't how the FBI worked, I said it anyway. He looked so dejected, but I really couldn't think about whatever this was right now. My mind was clouded with a million questions about Charlie's death, and deep down I knew things with Marc were over anyway. Still, I didn't have the heart or energy to break up with him right now. He might be a bit clueless, but he was a decent guy and deserved something better than a blow-off.

He tried one last ditch effort. "Jen, I'm here for you. I'll help you through your grief. I mean, a sister, that's a tough one."

He sounded sincere, but I could tell he was connecting the dots.

Before he could press for more, I gave him a quick kiss and walked away, leaving him standing there, still clutching the flowers. I felt awful, but I had no choice.

I had to find out what happened to my sister. She came first this time.

Chapter Three.

Raz I smashed my helmet on my head and stomped the shifter into first gear. I pulled the throttle hard and the V-muscle engine echoed my frustrations. Another fuck up I'd have to iron out.

Acer was fucking shit up again. I wasn't sure what the hell was going on in his head lately. Too much shit had been jacked up with deliveries, and if anything went sideways, the shit rained down on my head, not Acer's. I was beginning to wonder if the whole idea of listing me as sole proprietor of the bar was part of Acer's plan to screw me over. That way if anything happened, all the dirt would be on my hands, not his. He'd backed the purchase, and made sure I never forgot it. My ownership was in name only. The three part patch emblazoned on the back of the riding jacket I wore said as much.

Saints of Sin.

The club and the bar shared a name, a constant reminder that they were linked.

It was well past ten when I rode my Harley through the dark streets of town, my mind heavy with thoughts. I needed this ride to clear my head from all the craziness...and the guilt, so I took the long way.

Drugs.

Fuck.

Nothing but a royal pain in my ass. No, pain in the ass was too mild of a term. My life was fucked up and I was drowning because of it. Even more so now that Charlie was dead.

Fuck!

I never wanted something like this to happen, and definitely not to Jen's sister. Never Jen's sis. It tore me up inside every time I thought about it. She hadn't been innocent, but she didn't deserved what happened to her.

It made me sick. One more thing to add to the pile of shit in my life.

I hadn't always been like this. I wanted to be an astronaut once. Well, okay, that was when I was little. Over the years, it changed to a doctor, then fighter pilot. When my hormones hit, it'd been a rock star. Didn't dawn on my stupid ass that I had no talent. No brains and no talent.

One look in the mirror and I was exactly where anyone would've predicted. My life was fucked up to this side of Sunday.

It wasn't a shock that I ended up here. Barely graduated high school. Didn't even try to go for college. For people like me, Drexel Heights didn't have much to offer. Saints of Sin was one of the few things.

And now, the drug business was killing the bar. Ruining the life I was trying to make for myself.

I shook my head. My life had been ruined before the drug shit started. It'd been that way from the get go. Growing up with an alcoholic for a mother saw to that. I was her parent, took care of her - never able to think about myself or what I wanted. I didn't blame her. Never said it was her fault. Booze ruined her. All she ever wanted was to please people. Well, that never happened. Another shit storm did though.

The drug running business started simple at first, but nothing stayed simple with that shit. Too much revenge and payback. Too many people hurt. And my bar was wrapped up in it too, like a weed that grew around a flower...and eventually strangled it.

Kind of like what'd happened to Charlie.

I'd only wanted to protect her for Jen, and I fucked it up. The one thing I knew I had to do, I hadn't been able to do right.

Jen would be back in town for the funeral, a connection to the past I thought had been lost in the cesspool of my life. Before all this shit happened, before Jen dated Brad before Mom's addiction took over and punched a hole in my world.

There'd been Jen.

So many memories of what I had, and what I lost. Most of it happened over time, but if I had to pick one specific point where everything changed, I knew when it was.

It should've been one of the best days of our lives. The end of school. The sweet last week. A hot day for early June, already bringing trickles of sweat down my back. All the kids had gone to Banner pits, an abandoned gravel pit, to hang, drink beer, smoke weed, maybe swim if the water was warm enough. The pit was outside the city limits, and the company had been closed for years. We weren't supposed to be there, let alone swim, but it was a good place to hide from the cops while we did the things teenagers did in a town where there was nothing else to entertain us, except maybe a bowling alley. And who wanted go bowling with a perfectly good, underage drinking spot?

It was fantastic. We drank and did stupid shit. Jen was there, of course. I had a huge crush on her, but we'd only ever been friends. Me and her and Brad had been together since we were kids, and I knew Brad felt the same way about her as I did. Neither of us had made a move.

But I would change that today.

She looked fucking amazing in her bikini, all long legs and gorgeous tits. The alcohol had loosened us enough that our usual joking touches became lingering.

We jumped into the water, one after the other, and I grabbed her. Felt that slick, hot skin. We stared at each other, and I saw something in her eyes that I hadn't seen before. I leaned in, brushed my lips across hers. Man, that was the sweetest kiss in the world. We kissed for a long time, making out back on the grass under the trees and talking. Then about an hour later, the horrible accident happened. Someone had tied a rope to a tree and we'd swing out on it, like Tarzan and drop into the water. Except when Peter Hall swung out on the rope, he let go too soon. The water was too shallow and everything went to hell. Everyone scattered, but I stayed with Peter and his best friend, Mike, until the ambulance came. Peter lived, but when he came back to school the next year, he was in a wheelchair, paralyzed from the waist down.

Things weren't the same after that. Jen spent the summer working, and we never talked about what happened. Or what almost happened.

By senior year, it was all over. I didn't have time for a girlfriend...and Jen had been going out with Brad while I spent most of my time taking care of Mom, making sure she ate before her dark friend, Mr. Belvedere, made his first appearance of the night, or afternoon, as it usually happened. If it wasn't Belvedere, it was Smirnoff. Later, it was the cheapest vodka she could carry home from the store.

I tried to have a normal teenage life. Once, I went to a football game, hoping to run into Jen, to see if there was any hope for anything more. That ended after the first time I went home and had to pull some fucker off my drunken mom before he could stick his dick in her...or smack her around. Or both, which was more often the case.

I stopped at a red light, lost in the past. I barely noticed where I was until I looked to my left.

I couldn't believe my eyes. There, standing at the gas station, filling up her parents' car, was Jen. My heart jumped at the sight of her and I smiled. She looked good, and smokin' hot in cut-off shorts, bare skin peeping out from under the frayed edges. I admired the view as she leaned over the hood, long legs stretching for miles. Damn, she looked good. I'd heard from Charlie that Jen joined the Marines right out of college. Guess it kept her lean and mean, but what was she doing out so late?

The car behind me honked, and I saw the light was green, but my eyes went back to Jen, and I wondered if I should stop to talk, or wait until Charlie's funeral. The car honked again, urging me to get going and I shifted to first gear.

Less than half a mile down the road I pulled a U-turn. I had to go back and talk to her. I couldn't just pass by without talking to her. Not after eight years.

By the time I got back to the intersection with the gas station, the damn light was red again, but this time I was on the opposite side. My pulse picked up as I scanned the parking lot for her. A large sign blocked what I hoped was her car. I looked below the bottom edge of the sign and was relieved when I saw her feet. She was still there.

As I rolled into the drive of the gas station, I could see she wasn't alone. A patrol car was parked nearby, and Jen was talking to the cop.

It was Brad.

Fucking Dudley Do Right.

Always in the way. Always cock blocking me. In high school, and even now.

I parked my Harley and pulled off my helmet, pushed back the long hair that fell into my eyes, and hung the helmet on the bike. Self-consciousness hit me as Jen turned my way, but relief replaced it when Jen smiled. Brad just scowled, but that wasn't a surprise. He always scowled at me. Whatever friendship we had as children had long since disappeared.

That's right mother-fucker. I'm here now. You can leave. I didn't give a rat's ass about Brad. All I cared about was Jen. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, even though that was probably a bad idea. She probably blamed me for what happened to Charlie, and she'd be right to. Except, even though I saw sadness in her eyes, I was glad she was smiling and not pissed.

"Raz, well, look at you." Jen crossed her arms, an eyebrow going up.

I did looked different than the last time she saw me. I wore my hair shaved on the sides, long on top. I kept a beard now, and tattoos that I didn't have in high school.

Brad added his greeting. "Yeah, look what the cat drug in." He thought he was funny, trying to show Jen how witty he was, but it wasn't working.

I gave him a sideways look. Always the nerd, Dudley had no swag. Never knew how to charm a woman. I took another look at him just to check, almost expected his pants cinched all the way up to his rib cage. And a pencil pouch neatly tucked inside his front shirt pocket...oh, damn. My eyes fell to his front shirt pocket. My bad. He really did have a pencil pouch in his uniform pocket.

I decided to ignore his remark. We hadn't been on the best of terms after he'd started dating Jen, but beating the shit out of him was a bad idea no matter which way I looked at it.

Jen. She was what I wanted to focus on. My eyes darted back to her, wondering how she felt about me now. I'd been with Charlie and failed to protect her. By all rights, Jen should be screaming at me. Hitting me. Telling me what a piece of shit I was.

Instead, she opened her arms. I didn't even think about it. I stepped in and wrapped my arms around her. Damn, she felt good pressed against my body. I'd cared about Charlie, but Jen felt like she belonged in my arms.

I didn't want this to end, but Brad was watching, and I had a reputation to uphold. I moved to pull back, and for a moment I thought she hesitated, like she wanted to stay. As I stepped back, her eyes caught mine, and I half expected her to say something, but she glanced at Brad and the look vanished.

She changed from the girl I'd kissed, to the stranger who'd left me behind.

Her hands trailed across my shoulders and down to my biceps. She gave them a pat and a squeeze, a strange look on her face. "Wow, Raz. Been working out?" She let her hands drop and stepped back. "Didn't know mules needed muscles."

Damn, that hurt. What the hell did she mean? Does she know about the club's business?

Before I could ask, she shook her head, flustered. "Sorry, never mind."

Brad stepped closer, laying a hand on her arm. "Jen's just a little upset. You can imagine."

I glared at him, wanting to tell him what an asshole he was being. Okay, maybe things hadn't been what they were supposed to be, but her death hurt me too and Brad damn well knew it.

We'd been friends once upon a time in high school, but now spent our days trying to avoid each other. Or rather, me trying to avoid him while he tried to find shit to bust my ass for.

"Yeah, sure," I said. Arrogant fuck.

Brad jerked his head in the direction of my bike. "Is that what you're riding these days?"

I'd seen him eyeing my new Dyna Glide, taking note of the model. Easier to find me, harass me arrest me. The exact reason I'd switched.

Yeah, and do you still have any balls hanging between your legs? Before I spoke, though, I shoved my hands in my pockets and shuffled my feet. "Yeah, that's the new Harley."

Like he didn't know what I was riding. Every fucker on the police force was on the lookout for any Saint they could get their hands on, and that included the Daddy's boy in front of me.

I wasn't going to tangle with him today though. I had more important stuff to do.

I turned to Jen and said what I needed her to know, "I'm sorry about Charlie. I tried to help her, but..." I shook my head, all the things I couldn't say choking me. "I couldn't. I'm so sorry..."

She gave me a sad smile, the kind that said she'd pretty much resigned herself to losing her sister a long time ago. "Thanks, Raz. We all tried to help her. It was just too big for any of us to fix."

"We're all really sorry, Jen," Brad chimed in.

"I know." Jen turned back to me. "Before you came, I was asking Brad a few questions. He's the lead investigator on the case."

I glanced at Brad. Did he just puff out his chest? This guy's fucking desperate. Should look into expanding his life a little, take up gardening or scrap booking. Why'd she have to encourage him by asking questions? He was bad enough on his own and he was getting on my fucking nerves.

"That's right." Brad tried to sound all professional. "I'm investigating Charlie's case. I was the first one on the scene, so the sheriff said I could take point."

The sheriff. AKA Brad's dad.

Jen's expression hardened, like she was steeling herself for something, and I wondered how much the Marines had changed her.

Her voice sounded a hell of a lot more professional than Brad's did. "What can you tell me about that night? Do you have any idea who did this? And why? A drug buy gone bad doesn't really make sense. Not when she knew who to talk to."

Brad scowled, hemmed and hawed, then gave some standard bullshit answer. "You know I can't discuss an ongoing investigation. Not even with family."

Well, shit. Wasn't that just dandy. Brad giving her the party line, yet now diverting her questions. Didn't think he had the balls to deny her anything.

I gave her a thoughtful look, remembering something Charlie had told me. "Jen, you're an MP, right? Gonna help out the locals?"

She stiffened and pulled back. "I just want to know the truth about what happened to my sister. She deserves that, don't you think?"

Shit. Must've hit a nerve. That was...snippy. Then she was turning toward me, eyes blazing in a way that made my cock hard. I always loved watching her get all riled up. This just wasn't the appropriate time or place.

"What do you know about the night she was shot? Did you know she was going to meet someone that night?"

She was in full-on interrogation mode, and my instincts immediately sent my walls up. I glanced over to Brad, who was listening intently. I wanted to help, but no way was I going to say anything that'd be fodder for the crap fest Brad had going for me or the Saints.

I shrugged. "Hell, I don't know, Jen. Wish I did. Charlie and me split over six months ago. She worked her shifts at the bar, and then disappeared. I'm sorry, but Charlie was hooked bad, I mean real bad, in way over her head." I furrowed my brow and gave her the rest of the truth that I could. "That's part of why I ended it."

Her voice grew quiet, but not soft. "Yeah, there's no Hell quite like watching drugs change someone you love into someone you don't even know."

I was pretty sure she would keep pushing, but a commotion broke out at the bar that shared a parking lot with the gas station, interrupting our conversation. Four Angry Wives wasn't exactly known for its laid-back customers.

"What the hell it that?"

She and Brad craned their necks to look, but I didn't bother. I didn't give a shit. Just another drunken argument. Just another stinkin' night in Drexel Heights.

Still, I could hear a woman screaming at someone.

"You're too drunk to drive, asshole. Gimme da keys."

"Sounds like she's too ripe to drive, too." I hoped my comment would prompt Deputy Dog into action. I wanted to talk to Jen alone.

Fortunately, he took the bait and said, "I'd better go check this out. I'll talk to you later, Jen. Call me if you need anything."