(The five brothers, really four brothers and a sister, are back and ready to take over the streets of Detroit. Not that Bobby isn't doing that just fine by himself. I hope you guys like the update. I live for my fans.)

Okay, everybody still with me? Let's go over things one more time, just in case you haven't been paying me the least bit of attention. That's code for: You better have not missed a damn thing.

Past: We got Jack back from his perverted father and brother; but only after the abuse had drilled into his brain. Jack developed the well-known hobby known as 'cutting'. Yet, Mom was on top of the situation and dealt with it the way only she could.

The cops were trying to pin Dan and Conner's murders on my brothers. Yeah, I know they did it. But, that'll just be our little secret. Shhhh!

Jack's getting adopted! Mom sprung it on him. That can only make you believe that she offered the adoption to me too. I accepted, of course. What, do you think I'm on crack? And I don't want to hear one quip about me being a crack addict.

Present: I was an ex-junkie, ex-eating disorder patient with four older brothers. The oldest was a dangerous, merciless, vengeful killer with the greatest devotion for his family you've ever witnessed in history. You can pretty much figure that to be Bobby. Another was his former right hand man turned family man, with a wife and two daughters; as well as substitute family therapist for his odd siblings. Gotta love Jerry for his efforts. Third was another ex-something; marine this time. He was best known as the pretty boy, having a testy Latina that could hold her own permanently fixed to his boner. Are you reading this Angel? My thirteen-year-old sister Jayla moved in with us. Blah, blah, blah. We don't need to talk about the brat; meaning that I'd punch the next person I came across if I thought about her at the moment. Yeah, you know who you are, Detroit's most wanted hooker.

Sorry. I'm talking too much again. I'm just a big family person, if you haven't noticed. Why the hell do you think I'm writing our memoirs? I know it ain't for my health. If my brothers knew what I wrote in my journal (Bobby's calls it a diary), then I'd never hear the end of it. You work hard enough to be accepted as one of the bros, mannish behavior goes along with that. Besides, could you imagine what the hell they'd say if they actually did get a hold of my journal? Let's just say, Bobby might just switch the role of 'target of taunting' from Jack to me. I twitch at the thought.

My brothers should be coming back from Johnny's bar soon. I better hide this journal after my next entry.

"Sammy," came the voice of the only other person in the house besides me.

Jerking my gaze up to look at Jayla as she stood in the bedroom door, I said, "You call me that one more time and I'm gonna knock you right down those stairs with my baseball bat."

"But, Bobby calls you Sammy," my sister argued. She always had to pick a fight.

"That's because he's Bobby. He allowed to do a lot of things he shouldn't," I scoffed.

"Like shooting people?"

"Uh-huh," I hummed, quickly jotting in my notebook about Jayla's disturbing need to point out everybody else's issues when she was less than perfect herself.

"So, is he an assassin? He's got tons of guns."

Jayla was parked on the bed at my feet now; crossing her legs and grinning like we were best friends. Wasn't it only a few weeks ago that she said she hated me and that I was ruining her reputation? If she wasn't careful, she wouldn't make it to her next birthday. I'd make sure of that.

"Bobby's no assassin. This is Detroit, Jay. How many guys have you seen running around with berrettas tucked in their pants? Everywhere you turn, right?"

Jayla nodded with a look on her face that she only got when we talked. She felt stupid when she asked a question and I came back at her with a snappy reply or if I corrected her. I wouldn't be so mean to her if she hadn't been a bitch to me first. Did she think I wanted our sisterhood to end up this way?

"Hold up. I thought you had Eve with you," I said, referring to my cat; whose name I'd shortened from Evelyn to Eve when I realized it was weird to pet something that had the same name as my mom.

"I did," Jayla said and shrugged as she played with the bracelets on my wrists.

I smacked her hand away to make her focus. "So, where is she?"

"I put her outside to let her chase a mouse she was going nuts about," Jayla answer with a wave of her hand, not paying me much attention.

The instant she mentioned that my cat was outside, I was on my feet and my hand connected with the side of her head.

"What'd you do that for?" Jayla hissed, rubbing the lump I gave her.

"You don't put Eve outside! She's an indoor cat!" I yelled in the middle of a mad dash for the stairs. I had to find Eve and fast.

"You should have told me that," Jayla muttered, right behind me.

"I didn't think I'd have to. You said that you only wanted to hold her. Not toss her out like garbage."

"I didn't toss her out. She was fine when I put her out there."

"If anything happens to her, I'm putting you in the pound," I said.

"The pound?" Jayla snorted smugly. "I think you mean the pen, as in jail."

"No, I meant what I said about the pound. You'd fit right in with the other hounds. Isn't that your favorite position with your men? Doggy style?" I snapped, aiming a wink at her over my shoulder.

Jayla stopped dead in her tracks and had tears building in her eyes not a second later. She knew just what to do to make me feel guilty, didn't she? Her bottom lip trembled. Her thin shoulders shook with the struggle to keep in her crying. The girl worked her little sister card on me like a Visa. Charge it!

"Oh, quit pouting," I sighed. "Think of it this way. Even if you were a dog, you're so beautiful that you'd win first prize at the dog show."

That was all I could give her. She wasn't getting a sorry out of me; especially since I was still two feet away and could throttle her for probably loosing my cat forever. But, Jayla understood for once in her sorry life and the childish tears ended. Her face returned to its bubbly expression and she smiled at me. I ignored her; my now narrow mind directed on finding my cat since Big Sis had babied her little sis once more. One of these days I was going to swear to stop giving in to Jayla's manipulative cuteness.

As I reached for the handle of the front door, it swung open and three of my brothers filed into the house. Bobby was the last, carrying a hissing and squirmy black ball by what looked like its neck.

"This was close to being road kill under my car. Since I didn't hit it, maybe I can make it into a nice hat for La Vida Loca," Bobby mused, waggling the cat's body in the air so that she shrieked and took a swipe at him with her claws.

"Don't you dare or I'll skin you right along with her," I threatened.

He only smirked in twisted delight as he shook Eve one last time before flinging her at me. Eve did truly resemble a fur hat as she sailed through the air. Except, most hats didn't sound like a siren going off or have limbs flailing. The poor animal. I gave it a year maximum before Bobby did the gas thing and I found Eve barbequed for dinner.

Fortunate for Eve, I could catch her with ease and she landed safely in my arms. That didn't stop the feline from making bloody line on my forearm with her claws.

"Why do you always gotta torment my pets?" I asked Bobby as he and Angel moseyed on into the living room to check if the hockey game they'd been bragging about for two days straight was on yet.

"It's not your pets I got problems with. I didn't make that snake you snuck past Ma disappear, now did I?" Bobby chuckled, making me miss Amazon, the grass snake I'd found when I was eight. I'd never seen Mom move so fast until I saw her jump onto the kitchen counter when Amazon got loose and slithered over her feet. Sometimes it hurt to remember the good times before Victor Sweet.

"Then why do you keep putting Eve through near-death experiences everyday?" I huffed, stroking the cat on the chin to calm her.

"I don't like cats. And that thing is a cat. Put two and two together, Sweet Cheeks. The cat won't leave. So, I'm gonna put it through hell until it does get out of my house," Bobby said, crossing his ankles and propping his feet on the coffee table.

"You're the one who gave her to me as a present," I scoffed.

"I know. But, I never said I'd play nice with the fur ball."

"Well, she's mine. So, you better stay away from her. Or, at least stop kicking her like she's a football."

"We needed a football the other day. The cat just so happen to be there," Angel laughed and I glared at Jack when he snickered from somewhere in the kitchen.

"And my foot is going to just so happen end up between your legs," I said, not in the mood for idle threats.

"I know better," Bobby chuckled and Angel smirked at that. "I wear a cup whenever she has her moods. I think she's on her time of the month."

"Are you wearing one now?" I asked, taking a few suggestive steps towards him.

His brows crinkled together and those eyes were daring me to continue. "No. Is there a reason you would like to know, Sammy?"

"I'm just saying. My foot has a tendency to slip every once and awhile," I said and gave him a harmless shrug.

"Well, that foot better stay firmly glued to the ground if you're anywhere near me, girl," he yelled after me as I walked into the kitchen.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I yawned. I was bored of the conversation.

"Where's dinner, Cracker Jack?" Bobby called to Jack, who had popped open a beer and was nursing it at the table. That's one thing I never understood about my brothers. They got good and drunk at a bar before coming home to pull out more alcohol. Dang, I couldn't wait till I was twenty-one.

"We just got home, Bobby. Give me a few minutes," Jack groaned, gulping down half the beer and dragging himself to his feet.

I set Eve on the floor and picked up Jack's beer to take a sip. If it were me, I would have told Bobby to eat the lint right out of his bellybutton. But, Jack had more patience than me. That's why he was cooking tonight and I wasn't.

"I don't wanna here that mess, princess. A man likes a woman who can put a hot meal on the table right when he enters the house. You need to practice for your future husband," Bobby said and I heard laughter come from Angel.

After getting some chicken out, Jack slammed the refrigerator shut with his cheeks burning red at Bobby's nonstop cruel jokes. I watched him angrily prepare dinner. The way he was handling the chicken, he wouldn't have decapitated it if it were alive.

In Jack's defense, I whirled around to face the living room and shouted back at Bobby, "I suppose that makes you his man, huh? Well, damn, Bobby. I had my suspicions about Jack switching teams. But, you? I'm proud to know my oldest bro can be so open about his sexuality."

"Watch it, Sam." Bobby's voice was a growl. I'd succeeded in pushing his buttons.

"It's okay, Bobby. I accept it. You can talk to me about anything. I won't judge you because I love you. Also, this gives me a new buddy to talk about boyfriends and go to shopping with," I giggled, finding myself unable to contain myself.

"That does it," Bobby grumbled and I listened to the couch creak.

Oh, crap.

"Come here!" Bobby roared, chasing me like some bull aiming for my burgundy sweatshirt through the kitchen, dinning room, and out the back door.

"One of the first signs of being gay is denial," I said in the tone of a therapist, still running for my life. "Are you in denial, Bobby?"

"Wait till I catch you, you smartass." Even while he was being serious, I noticed the smile pulling at Bobby's mouth.

I halted quick, dived under Bobby's legs, and dashed back for the house. On my way through the kitchen, Jack gave me a high-five and he thanked me for getting Bobby off his case. Oh, didn't he know that the pleasure was all mine?

That was until Bobby caught me on the front lawn and there was hell to pay.

(I thought I'd put in a fun chapter before returning to the drama.)

(There's another flashback coming for you guys in the next chapter. Everything's coming into play. Evelyn's adopting Jack and Sam. So, everyone will officially be Mercers now. Bobby and Angel are going to go through with the plan to throw the cops off their scent, even if it means hurting the people dearest to them. No, they're not that cruel. It a different kind of hurt. The kind that can only come from the heart.)