Page 85 of End Game

“A little less testosterone wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“This isn’t funny, asshat.”

“Do you see me laughing?”

Standing, he threaded his arms through his shoulder holster, tossed on his jacket, and grabbed his keys and credentials from a handwoven bowl on a table by the door.

Twisting the door handle, he motioned for his brother to precede him. “To be continued—in another five years.”

Zeke didn’t budge. “Why’d you tell Kayla”—he waved his hand in the air as if he could conjure the right words—“about all of it?”

“You’re not going to believe anything I say, so why waste energy on this?”

“Be square with me, no matter how damning, and I’ll take you at your word.”

Ash didn’t bother pointing out that he would have no way of knowing if he was being square or otherwise. “I didn’t betray your confidence, but Kayla and Liv are . . . ” Now he was the one searching for an appropriate word.

Zeke lifted a brow, waiting.

“Perceptive. They key in on the slightest anomaly, then go in for the kill and don’t stop shredding you apart until they get to the juicy marrow.”

“You caved. They put the pins to you and you sang like a soprano.”

Ash gritted his teeth, unwilling to go into the complexity of his verbal boxing sessions with Kayla and Liv. He bolted through the door. ”Lock up when you’re no longer drowning in your disappointment.”

He strode away, figuring it would be the last time his brother graced his doorstep and envisioned the small foothold he had in Zeke’s life inching back and the door closing with a solid thud.

40

By the time Ash emerged from his building, Mason had arrived with the Audi and Kayla was ensconced in the back seat. Although she was still keen on participating in Linda’s interview, she had no intension of driving the thirty minutes to and from the woman’s home with the agent.

As soon as Ash cleared the building’s steel door, he keyed in on her transportation change and didn’t look happy about it. Too bad.

The small part of her that didn’t want to strangle him was pleased to see his encounter with his brother hadn’t left him bruised or bleeding. Maybe the same couldn’t be said for the absent Zeke.

When he reached her car, one of his big hands gripped the open window frame. No split or bruised knuckles. Another good sign.

“We need to talk,” he said, bending at the waist to look her in the eye.

“Not today.” She nodded toward his vehicle parked along the curb ahead of them. “Mason will follow you to Linda’s. You have her address?”

“Come with me. We’ll talk on the way.”

A sensation of pain made her glance down, take note of her white-knuckled clasped hands. She spread her fingers wide and placed her palms on her thighs before meeting his gaze again.

“If we talk now, you won’t like what I have to say.”

“That may be, but?—”

“And neither will I.” She nodded toward his vehicle again. “We’ll follow.”

He wanted to argue. She could see it in the clenching and unclenching of his jaw. Instead, he pushed away and marched to his SUV.

Kayla rolled up her window, released an unsteady breath, and waited for the avalanche of questions from her driver.

They never came.

Relief compressed all the oxygen from her lungs. As Mason pulled away, she saw Zeke standing outside the building’s entrance, arms crossed and a pensive expression on his handsome face. How long it would take for Liv to text, demanding details?

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