Page 2 of Crash Course
Once upright—no chunks blown—he slumped back against the lower cabinets and his head flopped forward. In his current condition, he considered it a win.
"The fridge," he croaked. "Gatorade. Get me one."
Phin took three steps and ripped the door open. "Are you stilldrunk?"
Yeah, I am.
No way he’d admit that. "Just get me the fucking Gatorade and give me ten to shower. Tell Zeke to keep his shorts on."
"Oh,that’llgo over well."
"I heard that."
Just when Cruz thought he had a plan . . .
Zeke. Terrific. Not only was he their older brother, but he was now the guy in charge of Blackwell Asset and Recovery Services, aka BARS. The family business. Zeke had assumed the reins when Ash, the oldest of the Blackwell boys, decided his purpose in life meant wearing an FBI badge. That was a whole other thing Zeke had gotten his shorts in a wad over.
Holding the Gatorade, Phin swung his head sideways. Cruz didn’t bother. He didn’t need to see the derision in Zeke's eyes. Cruz simply rested his head back against the cabinets and focused on Zeke’s jean-clad legs.
"What the hell’s this?" Zeke asked.
"It’s under control," Phin said, shifting slightly in a useless attempt to hide the empty Jack bottle. "We’ll be down in ten."
Had to love Phin. Always ready to schmooze their way out of a situation. Still, Cruz wasn’t gonna let him take the heat. Not when he’d screwed up so royally.
"I see the bottle," Zeke said.
Of course, he did. Finally, Cruz reclaimed the set of brass balls his father always said he’d inherited from him, peered up at Zeke and—yep, there it was—all his hollow-eyed disappointment.
"I fucked up," Cruz said. "Won’t happen again."
Zeke cocked his head. "What’s going on with you? We’re running a goddamned business and you’re hungover?"
Cruz wished it was only a hangover. He resisted sharing that factoid.
"It was one night," he offered in a lame defense.
"Was it?"
At this, Cruz found the strength to meet his brother’s challenging gaze. He could deny it. Get all righteous about it, blathering on about how Zeke didn’t know what he was talking about, but . . . really?
Big brother wasn’t an idiot. The guy was a freaking mind reader sometimes and Cruz was in no condition to talk his way around being intoxicated from the night before.
All he could do was shift Zeke’s attention. Nothing got big brother more excited than fresh business. "What’s this recovery?"
"A painting. In Nashville. You’re our pilot. Can you fly today?"
Well, the jig was up now because he could barely remain upright, never mind piloting a plane.
"Today?"
Phin sighed.
Zeke grunted.
A double disappointment. Excellent.
"I guess that answers my question." Zeke squatted in front of Cruz and poked a meaty finger at him. "I’m gonna see if I can cover your ass, but it’ll only be this once. Be ready to fly tomorrow. In case you forgot, we’re a team. You’re costing us time and money."
