"What happens if you don't pay?"
Cody looked down.
"They hit me."
Brian's fists clenched.
"How often?"
"Whenever they want."
"Why didn't you tell someone?"
"I did."
Brian froze.
"What?"
"I told Mr. Wallace once."
"Principal Wallace?"
Cody nodded.
"He told me boys fight sometimes."
Brian closed his eyes for a moment.
He knew Principal Gregory Wallace.
He also knew the reputation surrounding Trent Harris.
Last year, Trent had broken another student's nose.
Nothing had happened.
The boy transferred schools two weeks later.
Brian had heard rumors.
He had ignored them.
Now he hated himself for it.
"I'm calling the police."
Cody grabbed his arm.
"No!"
"Cody—"
"They'll make it worse."
"I can't just let this continue."
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
Cody's voice cracked.
"Trent's dad owns half the people in this town."
Brian stared at him.
"My dad is in prison. My mom left when I was six. I live with a foster family. Nobody's coming."
Brian felt something break inside him.
The boy wasn't asking to be rescued.
He had already decided that rescue didn't exist.
That was worse.
Brian stood.
"Stay here."
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to find someone."
"Who?"
Brian didn't know yet.
He walked into the administrative office.
He opened the student records.
He searched through the emergency contacts.
Mother: None.
Father: None.
Guardian: Brenda Higgins.
Three missed calls were recorded beside her name.
Then Brian saw something at the bottom.
Alternative emergency contact.
Brother.
Jackson Sullivan.
There was a phone number.
Brian stared at it.
He didn't know Cody had a brother.
He didn't know who Jackson Sullivan was.
But he knew one thing.
He had to call.
Brian stepped into his office and dialed.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Four.
Then someone answered.
No greeting.
Just a rough voice.
"Yeah?"
Brian swallowed.
"Is this Jackson Sullivan?"
"Depends."
"My name is Brian Matthews. I'm the football coach at Oak Creek High."
Silence.
"I'm calling about Cody."
Everything changed.
"Is he hurt?"
Brian closed his eyes.
"Yes."
The voice became dangerously quiet.
"How badly?"
Brian looked through the glass window at Cody sitting alone.
"Badly."
Five seconds of silence followed.
Then Jackson asked:
"Who did it?"
Brian knew immediately.
Whatever happened next would change Cody's life.
He just hoped it would not destroy it.
Brick
Jackson Sullivan was known by another name.
Brick.
The nickname had followed him for years.
Some said it came from the size of his shoulders.
Others claimed it came from his reputation for being nearly impossible to intimidate.
Jackson didn't care which story people believed.
At thirty-two, he had spent enough years making bad decisions to understand that reputation could become a prison of its own.
He had served time.
He had made mistakes.
And for the past year, he had been trying to build something different.
He had opened a small automotive repair shop.
He was working with a parole officer.
He had signed a lease on a house.
And, most importantly, he had been trying to rebuild his relationship with Cody.
Cody had been six years old when Jackson went away.
Jackson had been seventeen.
Too young to understand consequences.
Old enough to create them.
By the time he returned, Cody was fifteen.
A stranger.
That fact hurt more than Jackson admitted.
He had tried to be a brother.
He had sent birthday cards.
He had called.
He had offered to pick Cody up from school.
But Cody always seemed cautious.
Respectful.
Almost afraid of disappointing him.
Jackson had assumed it was because of the years apart.
He never imagined his little brother was being beaten.
When Coach Matthews told him about the bruises, Jackson felt something inside him turn to ice.
"Who?" he asked again.
"Two students. Trent Harris and Weston Cole."
Jackson knew the name Harris.
Everyone in the county did.
William Harris owned a major development company.
His construction projects were everywhere.
Jackson had worked around the freight side of some of those projects.
He also knew something else.
Money could buy silence.
It could buy lawyers.
It could buy school renovations.
It could even buy people willing to forget what they had seen.
But it couldn't erase what had happened to Cody.
"Where is he?"
"He's in my office."
"Keep him there."
"Jackson—"
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Don't come here looking for a fight."
Jackson looked at the keys of his Harley.
He knew exactly what Brian was afraid of.
"You made the call," Jackson said.
"Yes."
"Then you already did the right thing."
"Jackson, please."
A pause.
"I'm not going to hurt anyone."
Brian didn't sound convinced.
Jackson ended the call.
For several seconds, he stood completely still.
Then he walked toward his motorcycle.
The flat-black Harley-Davidson Road Glide sat outside the garage.