Birdy (Upper Echelon Duet Book 1)

at the restaurant today?" he questions.
I shake my head.
"Then no, we don't have to go anywhere. Just stay here with me a little longer."
"There is no way in hell you're putting that thing inside—"
"I'm not going to fuck you, Benni,” he laughs, scooping me up to lay me back on the bed. “I just want to be here with you. I want to kiss you, touch you, fucking absorb everything before you make me leave Miami alone…again."
"He lives," I say to my brother as I walk into Ma's house shortly after parting ways with Ángel a couple hours later.
He's just coming out of his room, all shirtless six-foot-two of him, his dark hair a fucking mess. At my greeting, he flips me off and ambles right into the bathroom to take a piss.
I'm already in the kitchen serving myself some coffee when he joins me and grabs a mug from one of the cabinets. "Ma told me you were with that fucking comemierda again."
No hello, no nothing—just that tone.
Seriously? "Jesus Christ, hello to you, too, Tomás. It's only been how many days since the last time I saw you?" I snap.
"She was livid when I got here last night, and guess who had to hear it? Me,” he barks back, reaching for the coffeepot. “So excuse me if I don’t feel super chatty or enthused to see you this morning.” 
Rolling my eyes, I take a sip from my mug. “Did you put down the cigs or some shit ‘cause damn, this is grouchy, even for you.”
Tommy scoffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m just tired as hell of coming home after a long-ass day and having to deal with mom flipping out on me because of you. Why do you keep doing this shit, Benita? Don't you listen?"
Apparently not. He sounds just like Ángel right now, which only irks me more. That’s like the pot calling the kettle black. "A little condescending coming from you, don’t you think? You're out there doing the exact same shit on the days you're not at the track, so what the fuck? Why is it okay for you to do it, but not me?" I counter.
My brother throws the pot back into its rightful spot—harder than necessary, I should add—and crosses his big-ass arms as he leans up against the laminate’s edge. "Because you don't know how to stay out of trouble. How many times have I been arrested?"
I know where this is going, and still, I find myself squaring my shoulders and responding. "None."
"And how many times have you been down to County?"
"Twice."
"Ex-fucking-actly. So don't stand there and ask me why you shouldn't be doing this shit when you know damn well why. If you get caught, he's not going to take the fall for you." Those brown eyes of his, the very same ones we all got from Ma, stare me down as he brings the mug to his lips.
I feel my blood simmering in my veins. The fact that he thinks I’m that stupid is what pisses me off the most. "I would never expect him to, Tommy. I'm a big girl; I can handle myself."
"Then handle yourself out of all the shit you have going on and stick to La Carreta before you get fucked a third time. You thought County sucked? Max makes that shit look like summer camp."
My head nearly flies into the wall behind me. "Fuck’s sake, Tomás, who the hell pissed in your coffee?"
"You!” he belts. “I'm so tired of Ma worrying about your ass when, clearly, you couldn’t give three flying fucks. Every time he comes back around, she’s a nervous wreck. Is he married or some shit, and that’s why he’s not around much?"
Oh wow, we’re going there? I may be a lot of things, but I am not a homewrecker. "No,” I lift my chin. “but even if he was, it would be none of your business."
Tommy rolls his eyes and takes another sip. "Just stop, Benni. Shit's getting hot as fuck out there, and the last thing we need is for you to get locked up again over some asshole who wouldn’t give a fuck if you got locked up in the first place."
"Does that mean you're hopping out too?" I press because if it’s too hot for me, it should be too hot for him, too.
"My jump isn't as high as yours. I don't have nearly as much on the line if they snatch my ass up."
Oh, please.
My lips curl dubiously. "Do not act like el santo. You’ve been doing this longer than I have."
"Holy fuck, are you deaf? I just said my jump isn't as high as yours, and you wanna know why? ‘Cause I didn’t go out there trying to be el Jefe. I knew my place, and I did what I had to do to put food on the table and money in Ma’s wallet…that’s it. But you—"
“But me nothing! I didn’t go out there trying to be la Jefa, either. It just happened.”
“Because you got involved with him,” he grits, sharp jawline flexing as his teeth grind together. “He’s bad news, Benita. That lil’ fucking tat you got keeps popping up, and I don’t mean on tags. I mean on bodies.”
The Yakuza. That’s definitely their style. They brand their targets sometimes.
“I have nothing to do with that.” I’m actually offended he would or could possibly think otherwise.
“But you got that shit inked on your arm, right? The feds ever see that, they’re gonna assume you’re involved by association.”
“Why are you trying to turn this into something it doesn’t need to be? I literally just told you that I’m not involved in any of that and—”
"Can the two of you please shut the fuck up," Noely's voice resounds from the hall. "It is way too early for the two of you to be going at it."
Her dark, kinky curls are like a freaking lion’s mane, last night’s makeup still plastered on her pretty face.