B3 emblem curling up from my hip.
They visibly tense.
“I think it’s time you guys move on, yeah?”
They flash looks to each other, trying to hide their concern or fear with the nonchalance of gangster badasses and failing. “Keep your friend safe. Guarantee if he dropped in on one of your brothers he’d never live to talk about it.”
That’s probably true.
They strut to their boards and head back into the water. With my hands propped on my hips, I feel the unexpected release of tension in my muscles. That could’ve been so much worse.
“Mason?” I turn to see Trix holding the little kids to her body while the bigger ones crowd around her.
I turn to Isaac, who looks like a ticking time bomb. His fists are clenched, jaw hard, and back rigid. “Go for a run, man. Blow it off. Letting that shit fester will do you no good, understand?”
He’s scowling at the guys who are back to being black dots on the horizon. “I could’ve taken him.”
“I don’t doubt that. But those guys don’t fight fair. It would’ve been six of them against two of us, and your brothers and sisters would’ve witnessed it.” I slap him on the back. “Now go. Run the beach and blow it off. Trust me.”
He drops his eyes to the sand and nods, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah.” He blows out a long breath. “Okay.”
“Alright.”
He takes off running down the beach, and I turn to Trix, who’s chewing her bottom lip and pulling at the skin on her throat.
“Where’s he going? Is he okay?”
“He’s burning it off. He’ll be okay.” I motion to a concrete fire ring in the sand. “You guys up for a fire and s’mores before you head back?”
The kids jump with excitement, the mere mention of more junk food erasing what just happened from the forefront of their minds, but Trix doesn’t look at ease.
I pull her to my chest. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
She curls into me easily, not seeming to care that I’m wet. “He’s my baby brother, Mase.”
“I know and he’ll be okay.”
“I guess B3 is a bigger deal than what you told me. ‘Just kids’ my ass.”
I fumble with how to tell her this and have it make sense, or better yet not freak her the fuck out. “B3’s a big deal around here. It’s a big deal to a lot of people. It means very little to me anymore. If my brother weren’t neck deep in it, and if I didn’t need to use it to keep your brother from getting sand in his blood, I’d never think about it again.”
“Your brother and all those guys who came to Vegas, are they . . .?”
I nod into her hair. “They are.”
“So, B3’s a real gang.”
I run my hands up and down her back with a soft pressure and feel her melt deeper into me. “Started off as a way to protect the locals here, but greed led them to hook up with some bad dudes, and things went downhill from there.”
“That’s what your brother’s involved in now, all the stuff they had lying around the hotel that first night?”
“Yes, and no matter how many times I try to fix this shit for Drake, he just keeps running back to it because of his dad.”
She pushes back enough to peer up at me. “I guess any relationship with his dad, even an unhealthy one, feels better than none at all.”
I nod and lock my hands together behind her back. “Let’s not waste the rest of our time together, focusing on that shit. I’m going to blow my surfer girl’s mind with the best s’mores she’s ever tasted, and then we’re going to get these kids home before they all pass out on the beach and we’re carrying sleeping bodies back to your van. Sound good?”
The dark shadows from her eyes clear and she grins. “Sounds perfect.”
It’s been a couple of hours since the sun dipped below the horizon, and our fire is burning the last piece of wood we have. Leah and Aaron are sound asleep on Trix’s lap, their mouths caked with a mixture of sticky marshmallow and sand.
Trix’s hair is pulled away from her face, the flicker of fire light highlighting her cheekbones and full lips. She looks focused, but somehow vacant at the same time as she watches the flames dance.
I wish I knew what she was thinking, could see inside that pretty head of hers, and carry the burden of whatever makes her drift off