Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)
Rebecca Zanetti
Acknowledgments
I’m delighted we are writing a spin-off series for those Sin Brothers, and I hope readers enjoy this new band of lost and wounded men. This series found a wonderful home with Grand Central Forever, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to work with so many wonderful, talented, and hardworking people.
Thanks to Michele Bidelspach, Beth de Guzman, Amy Pierpont, Leah Hultenschmidt, Jodi Rosoff, Michelle Cashman, Elizabeth Turner, and Kallie Shimek from Grand Central Forever for the hard work, and thanks to Dianna Stirpe for the awesome copy edits.
A big thank you to my agent, Caitlin Blasdell, who does an amazing job across the board. Thanks also to Liza Dawson and the Dawson gang for the hard work and support.
Thanks to Jillian Stein, Minga Portillo, Marquina Lliev, Rebecca’s Rebels, Writerspace, and Fresh Fiction for getting the word out about the books.
Thanks also to my constant support system: Gail and Jim English, Debbie and Travis Smith, Stephanie and Don West, Brandie and Mike Chapman, Jessica and Jonah Namson, and Kathy and Herb Zanetti.
Finally, thank you to Big Tone for being Big Tone. I love you. Also, thanks to Gabe and Karlina for being such great kids. I love you both!
Prologue
Twenty years ago
Ryker never figured he’d find sunshine in hell. He looked up at the shining ball in the too-blue sky. How could it be warm and sunny here? At twelve years old, after spending most of his life in a series of orphanages with a few foster homes thrown in, he knew hell was more of an abstract idea than an actual place.
Some people just ended up there and stayed.
Sure, some of the foster homes had been nice, but he’d been ripped out of those quickly. He’d escaped from the other ones and ended up back in orphanages.
But this place. Oh, this place was something special. Whatever he’d done in a past life to deserve this must’ve been really bad. A dark need to fight back, to hurt the adults running his life, slithered inside him, and it wasn’t the first time, so he probably deserved hell.
But something told him the younger kid fighting the three bullies on the edge of the dirt field didn’t deserve this beat down. Or maybe Ryker was just tired of the wrong guys winning every time. North Carolina sun shone down, pretty but not strong, illuminating the scene as the new kid fought hard and fast. And dirty.
“It’s time to step in,” Heath said, picking a scab on his chin, his wiry body on full alert.
“He’s giving a good fight, and those guys need to know he won’t roll over if we’re not around,” Ryker said, his own hands clenching into fists. “We can’t always cover his back.”
The second Heath had caught sight of the little guy—another wounded animal for him to save—he’d tried to jump into the fray. Ryker had stopped him with a hand on his arm, promising to save the kid when it was time, trying to see the entire picture at once. His heart raced and the injustice of it all clawed through him, but he had to tamp down raw emotions to survive.
It was a lesson he’d learned early and Heath had yet to figure out.
Ryker and Heath had been best friends for the six months they’d spent in the boys home, facing off against too many bullies to count—kids and adults both. Ryker had been at the home for a month when Heath arrived. The kid instantly tried to save a lost kitten he’d found on the outskirts of the ranch. Seeing Heath take a beating for hiding the kitten made Ryker approach him the next day. He’d never approached anybody, but Heath had needed a friend. Maybe Ryker had, too.
Having Heath at his back kept him from going crazy, and he had to adapt and think things through for them both, so they didn’t run on emotion and totally screw up. “Let the kid get in one more good shot.”
The new kid—a gangly, dark-haired boy—bit into the neck of one of his older attackers, an * named Larry. Larry and his buddies were around sixteen and ruled the boys home when the jerk of an owner wasn’t telling everyone what to do. They’d be kicked out soon to go be adults.
The kid dug in, slashing deep with his teeth.
“Jesus.” Ryker ran forward and yanked the kid away from the bully. If the kid hurt anybody bad enough to need stitches, Ned Cobb, the owner of the boys home, would beat him to death. Stitches cost money.
Blood poured down Larry’s cheek, and he slapped a hand to it. “You’re gonna die for that, prick.”
Ryker got into his face. Even though he was four years younger, they were the same height, and Ryker filled out his shirt better. Fury threatened to eat him whole. “Leave him alone.”
Larry snarled. “You taking on another pet, shit-for-brains?”
Ryker stepped closer, and his hands closed into fists. In a couple of seconds, he wouldn’t be able to control his temper, so he let it show in his bluish green eyes. “I really wanna hurt you, Larry.”
Sometimes the truth just worked.
Larry blinked twice and then backed away. “You are so not worth my time.” He turned and headed for the older kids dormitory, and his lackeys followed.
“Denver? You okay?” Ryker asked the kid, noting a bruised lip and swelling black eye. He tried to make his voice gentle, but he really didn’t know how.
The kid pivoted and faced him squarely, his shoulders bunched.