“Something more important came up.”
Logan frowned. “What’s that?”
Trent roughed a tatted hand through the short crop of black hair on his head, then he looked Logan straight on. “You.”
Anxiety made a prickly slide down his spine, and he pushed his laptop back.
Trent hesitated, warred, then sighed as he crossed the kitchen. He pulled out a chair and flipped it around and sat on it with his arms rested on the back, staring at Logan like he’d become his sole focus.
“What’s going on, man?” Logan hated that his voice wobbled. Hated that Trent thought him some kind of pussy. Like he wasn’t strong enough to even know the monsters he faced each day. Not that he wanted to go on daily raids or murder sprees.
But he wanted to…belong. For Trent to trust him enough to at least confide in him.
Trent let his attention drift over Logan’s homework before he cut a glance at Logan. “You’re fuckin’ smart, man. Smarter than any of us. Damned wizard with the numbers.”
There was no missing the foreboding wound in it.
“That’s no secret. We all know I’m the smartest, best looking of the bunch,” Logan tossed out with a smirk, doing his best to ignore Trent’s agitation.
Because seriously, what the hell was this about?
Trent checked on him, yeah. Made sure he was going to class. But Trent didn’t need to worry about any of that shit. Logan was laser focused. Was set on coming out on top. He’d be rich, but he was going to do that shit right.
Trent rubbed his fingertips over his lips. It was a tell.
His oldest brother was disturbed.
“Yeah, and our father has noticed.” It came out a low warning.
A frown took to Logan’s face, and he almost shrugged if it weren’t for the ripples of unease billowing off of Trent. “So?”
Trent grunted in frustration. “So, if he sees something that he can use for his benefit, that’s what the bastard’s gonna do.”
Trent might have worn the vice pres patch for their MC, Iron Owls, but their father was the president. Which meant whatever their father said was gospel, no matter if Trent liked it or not.
Over the years, the animosity between the two had grown, but there was little Trent could do but his duty to the club. It was where his life was pledged.
Live to Ride, Ride to Die.
Once you took that oath, that was it.
You were an Owl until the day you were put in the ground.
Logan figured it was the main reason Trent had purchased this house in a family neighborhood clear across the city from the club’s quarters. He was hiding both him and Nathan away, hoping their father didn’t notice any talents that could be extorted.
Hell, he probably hoped their father had forgotten that they even existed.
Logan’s knee began to bounce. “What does that mean for me?”
Trent’s head barely shook as he rested farther on the chair and angled closer. “It means he found a way to use you. He promised you to a man named Andres Costa.”
Logan blinked and his chest tightened.
He knew the name.
Trent’s throat bobbed when he swallowed, irritation burning through his blood. “They want you working his books. Looking for ways to get their money into legitimate investments. Growing it.”
It was pointed when Trent said it.