Part 5 (1/2)

He'd scoffed, doubtful. ”What does that mean?”

”Ask yourself. I'm done trying to figure you out.”

”There's nothing to figure out. What you see is what you get.”

”Well, what I'm getting isn't enough. You're stuck someplace else, Michael.”

His quads burned from the fast pace on the dusty trail. Stuck. Ha. He was fine. Work and family were all he needed. Besides, he had too much going on. Business was booming, and the investigation into his father's death had gotten its first big break in ages last month when the police had arrested the getaway driver.

Michael was stuck on absolutely nothing.

Seeing Annalise had proved that, hadn't it? He wanted her, but he wasn't caught up in her. He'd be a stone-cold idiot to be hung up on someone who'd moved on more than a decade ago.

That kiss had proved it, he reasoned, as he neared the trailhead.

That was enough to get her out of his system.

Except he couldn't stop thinking about that kiss.

That intoxicating kiss.

That f.u.c.king kiss, which had ignited all his fantasies last night. She'd felt like fire in his arms, and just as hard to contain. But he'd craved the danger, the risk of touching her. Of what it might do to him to have her.

It would either free him or wreck him.

Those thoughts powered him the final feet to the end of the trail, where he caught up quickly to Ryan's four-legged best friend. Johnny Cash panted hard, tongue lolling from his snout. Michael's heart beat furiously as he pressed the spigot on the water fountain. ”Here boy,” he called, giving the dog first dibs on the water as Colin's relentless pace boomed closer.

”You b.a.s.t.a.r.d. You on the juice now?” he shouted as he caught up.

”No. Ryan is. That's the only way he can manage to finish within a minute of us,” Michael said, panting.

Colin laughed as Michael took a drink of the water, then stepped away from the fountain for Colin to get his shot. When Ryan arrived, wiping his palm across his brow, Michael adopted a look of feigned disgust. ”I see your almost-married life is slowing you down,” he said, teasing his brother, who'd recently gotten engaged.

”Nothing slows me down. Not ever,” Ryan said. ”I let you win.”

”You wish.”

Michael wandered over to the wooden fence that edged the lot, parking his foot on a post to stretch. Colin and Ryan joined him, and Johnny Cash trotted behind, slumping in a furry black-and-white heap at Ryan's feet.

”Listen. We've got some things to figure out,” Michael said, diving into a conversation he'd told his brothers they needed to have on their run today. ”I was thinking we need to take care of Marcus when s.h.i.+t starts going down. Probably even sooner.”

Colin nodded, shoving a hand through his dark hair. ”Definitely. I've been talking to him about what to expect.”

”What does he say? What does John say?” Ryan asked, his blue eyes s.h.i.+fting from Colin to Michael. Ryan was engaged to Detective John Winston's sister Sophie, but John kept most of the details of the reopened investigation into their father's murder two decades ago close to the vest, understandably. However, with their half-brother Marcus spending more time at Colin's home, and acting as an informant in some ways for the detective, the three of them had a sense that matters might heat up soon.

One of the accomplices in the murder had been arrested several weeks ago. Kenny Nelson, the getaway driver, was behind bars for several smaller crimes, and was likely going to be tried for accessory to murder, too. With the revelation that by night Marcus's father was the leader of the notorious street gang the Royal Sinners, John and his colleagues were even busier. Presumably, the cops were working to devise the best way to dismantle the gang and connect Luke to the murder. Michael reasoned that any sort of sting operation to take down the group's head, who'd successfully operated as the clandestine leader for more than two decades, would put Luke's son Marcus square in the face of danger.

”He's already working on transferring to another college out of state,” Colin said, breathing hard as he stretched his quads after their five-mile run. ”That way he has a real reason to get out of town without his dad knowing he's been giving key details to the detectives. He's looking to go to school in Florida.”

”Smart kid. And that's where we come in,” Michael said. ”We need to pay for his school, his new home, and make sure he's got round-the-clock security for a while, even if he's clear on the other side of the country.”

”Absolutely,” Ryan quickly agreed.

”No question about it.” Colin nodded.

Michael pointed at Colin. ”You see him the most. You let him know we got his back on this, all right? He's our brother, and we'll take care of him. Without him, we might not have a chance at taking down the other men who killed our father. I want them all behind bars. Every last one of them.”

One man-the gunman-was already in prison and had been for eighteen years. So was their mother, who'd plotted the murder. Now, Kenny Nelson was likely on his way to the big house, but Michael wouldn't rest until T.J. Nelson, the alleged mastermind of the gunman's. .h.i.ts, joined him there, along with the head of the gang. Michael had a hunch that Luke had been pulling the strings all along, hiding behind his harmless piano-teacher persona as he operated a gang of thieves, thugs, and murderers. The brothers were sure he was part of it, and that was why Michael had hired the private detective, with Mindy's help, to conduct his own recon, do his part to push things along.

”I've got to hit the road. Lots to do in the office,” Michael said, then turned to Ryan. ”I'm taking the afternoon off.”

Ryan stopped in his tracks. ”Whoa. You never take off. You prepping for your New York trip?”

Michael was slated to meet with some clients in Manhattan at the end of the week. ”Nope. Just a meeting locally.”

”With who?” Ryan asked, and the question was perfectly reasonable because he and Ryan ran Sloan Protection Resources together.

Michael didn't answer. He didn't like lying, but he didn't want to get into the details. He reached for his door handle, trying to ignore the question.

”Wait.” Colin's hand came down on his shoulder. ”You're seeing her.”

He spun around. ”What?”

Colin wagged his finger and grinned like he'd caught Michael red-handed. ”Yep. I knew it. You told me she wrote to you, and I f.u.c.king knew you were going to see her.”

Michael shrugged, trying to make light of it. ”Big deal. So I saw her.”

”And now you're playing hooky to see her again,” Ryan teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Michael waved him off. ”Not playing hooky. I'll be working late tonight.”

”Or working late on Annalise,” Ryan called out as Michael shut the door.

Michael flipped him the bird, and his brothers laughed. There wasn't much that got past them. They knew how over the moon he'd been for Annalise back in high school. h.e.l.l, they knew her. Everyone knew her-his grandma, his sister, even his father.

His father had thought she was perfect for him.

Michael flashed back to the note in his wallet. The one he kept with him at all times. His father's last written words to him were about Annalise. As he peeled away from the hills and drove back to his home on the Strip, he replayed the thirty-six hours before his father had been killed. The breakfast with his father the day before was a blur; the next morning with Annalise at the airport as he said good-bye was a smudge in his memory, too.

The one starkly clear event had happened after midnight.

A snapshot blazed before his eyes. He swallowed hard, jammed the brakes, and pulled over to the side of the road.

The image was too powerful to drive through.

He'd been in his bed, trying to sleep. He'd bolted upright, remembering he'd left something in the car that day. He'd barely been sleeping anyway. He got out of bed, padded to the front door, and unlocked it. His father's car was in the driveway. He'd been driving the limo that night, taking some teens to the prom, and after returning the limo to work, he drove his own car home.