JAX (The Beckett Boys, Book Two) by Olivia Chase

first,” I tell him with a wink. I move out from behind the bar and head back to the office, where Smith is crunching numbers.
    When I click the door closed behind me, he looks up, irritation in his eyes. “What?” he barks out.
    I cross my arms. “We need to talk.”
    “Yeah, that much is clear. You’re in the office.” He gives an irritated sigh. “What do you want, Jax?”
    “I don’t care for the way things are going with Outlaws, and neither do our regular customers.”
    Smith sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, leaving small spikes on top. “We’ve gone through this before. We sat down and discussed what changes we were going to implement to keep the bar running.”
    “But it’s not the same bar anymore,” I shoot back. “It’s just another generic joint where people can get generic beer and generic appetizers and have generic happy hour specials. We used to be different, one of a kind.”
    “And we used to be on the verge of closing,” he retorts, holding up a bunch of receipts. “Do you remember how broke as fuck we were? Because I sure as hell do. I’ve been crunching the numbers every day.”
    “So? Your big idea is to completely change us and alienate those who remained loyal through our hard times?”
    “The people who remained loyal are cheap and rowdy and got us in trouble. We can’t afford that shit anymore.” Smith’s voice is getting a frustrated edge now. He stands up and glares at me. “What the fuck is going on here? Why are we getting into it now?”
    “Because this isn’t working for me,” I tell him bluntly.
    He stalks around the desk to stand in front of me, eyes narrowed. Smith is an intimidating fucker. But he’s my brother and I know all his tricks. “I’m sorry it isn’t working for you, princess. But our bills are getting paid, and the police and neighborhood are finally backing off. You haven’t had to deal with the brunt of their bullshit. I have.”
    “Dad would be pissed if he saw what you were doing here,” I say, dropping the big ace in my hand.
    Smith stills, his eyes hard on mine.
    It’s true. And we both know it. As much as Smith might feel he’s doing good for the bar, he’s changing everything from what our dad intended. It wasn’t supposed to be some fucking generic bar—fuckers can go to Applebee’s or TGI Fridays if they want that kind of shit.
    Outlaws was ours and it was supposed to be special.
    What we had was great. Until he started fucking it all up. Putting out ads and coupons in the local paper, for God’s sake. Coupons . What the fuck.
    “That’s a low blow,” he replies. “I think Dad would most want the business to stay afloat.”
    I feel a twinge of guilt over my harshness, but it’s overrun quickly by my frustration. “So little of him remains now,” I say. “The bar was his legacy to us.”
    “Right. To us. For us to do as we see fit.”
    “Or as you do.” There, the words are out.
    Smith inches closer to me, his jaw tight. “What the fuck are you trying to say?”
    “I’m saying that you’re doing what you always do. You run with your own ideas and don’t bother consulting me or Asher.” My anger is a festering pit in my gut. “Even though this bar is part ours, too. But that doesn’t fucking matter to you, because you’re a golden god and you know better than anyone else what is right.”
    “Fuck you,” he spits. “If you had to run this bar on your own, you’d see how fucking hard it is. Trying to keep a business running when everyone around you wants you to fail. I think Dad would be more concerned with staying in the black than with keeping true to your outdated vision.”
    I turn away from him and leave the room. I’m so mad I can’t speak. I head back to the bar. I don’t give a fuck about the police, or anyone else who wants to shut us down. I won’t cower from them.
    My anger spurs me into action. I saunter over to a table with two sexy women and their boyfriends. Shoving aside my