The pounding in his ears was louder than the engine of the car to Seth. Staring at his brother's profile, knowing that these fights weren't going to stop. Not any time soon. There was too much they had been through, that they hadn't put to rest, that they would constantly be tugging and pushing until they worked it all out amongst themselves. Which given the two of them, might be never.

Logic, in Seth's mind, was fucking bullshit. Not when it meant things like Richie taking off with Santanico, and the ideas and concepts that had led them down the primrose path that had nearly gotten them both turned into corpses one way or another.

"Nobody fucking said you had to." Except Seth had and was. Constantly. All the fucking time telling his brother what was wrong with the culebra and all they stood for. "But Jesus fuck, Richie. All of it nearly took you from me. Santanico and her mind games with you in Texas. All we've fucking been through. You going off with her. Why the fuck am I supposed to like your little club when they did all that shit to us, to Kate, all of it."

Not that he hadn't been the one that got them in on the job, and he could bet any minute Richie was going to remind him of that too. He had gotten them into bed with Carlos and it had all gone to shit from there.