Page 5 of Sebastian

Damien sat in silence for a moment, before finally blurting out, “I’ve noticed that you haven’t been taking on as many cases lately. If you’re not interested in being a PI anymore, or if all the stuff we see is starting to bother you, I won’t mind if you quit to pursue something else. You know that, right?”

I shot up off the floor and sat directly in front of my brother, kneeling with my knees folded awkwardly under me.

“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s because...”

I hesitated.

What could I tell him?

I didn’t want to lie to my brother, but I had to tell him something.

“I don’t want to quit. I like that we help people. This one just got under my skin because it’s a pair of brothers. I’m sorry if I seemed distant lately. I promise, I’ll be more involved from now on.”

The knowledge in eyes cut right through me as Damien scowled. He’d definitely noticed my hesitation, but to my relief he chose not to point it out.

“Fine,” he relented with a sigh. “Since it affects you like this, I’ll take point on the Dahler case. However, we might be able to wrap it up quickly. I got a report earlier from a hospital nearby of a John Doe that matches Clay’s description.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Too easy. What are the odds that the person we’re looking for would turn up just hours after we get the case? Besides, we aren’t even sure the man is even in this city. Jason Dahler was quite vague about the details of how he actually tracked his brother here.”

Standing up, Damien offered me a hand off the floor. “I know. I would have dismissed it too, except Clay Dahler has a distinctive birthmark on the inside of his wrist, and this John Doe has a similar mark.”

I accepted his helping hand and stood as well, brushing dust from my black jeans. “Similar? Shouldn’t it be exact?”

“Apparently, the John Doe was burned, so it’s hard to tell. We’ll have to take a look for ourselves, but I’m busy today. Our contacts at the FBI have requested another meeting.”

Groaning, I tipped my head back so far, my eyes pointed toward the ceiling. We needed to dust the ceiling fan. Spiders were starting to make nests behind the light bulbs.

“What do they want? Another case they can’t solve that they’re going to push onto us?”

My relationship with the FBI was rocky, at best. It was a memory I tried not to think about too often. To put it simply, our parents had been killed. My brother and I saw it happen, and testified against David Russo, the mafia leader, in court, putting ourselves at risk for the sake of justice. The FBI had put us into witness protection and promised to protect us.

They failed.

We only survived by going into hiding on our own, changing our last names and reinventing ourselves on the other side of the country.

Ever since then, I couldn’t help but view the FBI as an extension of the villain that haunted our lives. If they’d just done their job right the first time, Damien and I wouldn’t have had to live in fear for so many years. Maybe we wouldn’t have had to watch our parents die at all.

That was one of the things I liked best about my job now. As a private investigator, I could pick up where organizations like the FBI failed.

Damien shoved me toward the door. “Hey, they pay us, so what does it matter? However, I do need to meet with them, and then I need to meet up with Mason at the FPA office for another case, so you’ll have to check out the John Doe. It’s probably not our guy, but this way we can at least cross it off the list.”

I nodded even before my mouth formed the words. “Yeah. Of course I’ll go. Give me the details and I’ll leave right now.”

No further explanation was required. When Damien needed something done, I did it, and when I needed something, he always came through. There was no other option. After everything we’d been through together, relying on each other came as easily as breathing.

Maybe that was why keeping secrets from my brother felt like drowning.

CHAPTER 4

Sebastian

If someone were to read a summary of my life on paper, they would probably expect me to have some sort of trauma regarding hospitals. Parents murdered by the mafia. Hunted down by that same mafia. Now working as a private investigator with both the FBI and the newly developed FPA task force.

Surely that meant I’d experienced my fair share of injuries, right?

Well, injuries yes. Hospitals not so much.

Spending so many years in hiding, Damien and I had learned to take care of the majority of physical wounds on our own. Things were better now. We could seek medical help without fear of discovery, but such instincts were ingrained into us so deeply, no amount of time could ever iron it all out.

---