Page 62 of Brother's Keeper

“Speaking of soon…” He waggled his brows. “How about that date?”

I rolled my eyes skyward, feigning confusion. “What date?”

Swinging a leg onto the bed, he crawled toward me, then straddled my lap. Poised above me, he was so close I thought he might kiss me again. I would have welcomed it, morning breath and all.

“Youwilltake me out, Trouble.” He stabbed a fingerplayfully into my sternum. “I’m holding you to it.”

Offering a date and planning one were two different things, and I was no good at either. There were few places I could go without being recognized or drawing negative attention I didn’t want also aimed at Nash. A dark movie theater seemed like the best bet. We could sneak in after the previews and stay till the end of the credits, hoping to leave unnoticed. But Nash deserved better than that.

“You wanna go bowling or something?” I offered.

“With you?” His mouth twisted in a smirk. “Hell, no. You’ll cheat.”

He’d played enough darts with me, and billiards, too, that I couldn’t deny it. Showing off was half the fun, and I always aimed to impress.

Pressing my palm into the middle of his chest, I pushed him to the side. He rolled to lay next to me, propped up on one elbow and targeting me with a maddening grin.

“Lemme think on it a few days, okay?” I said. “I gotta figure out what to do with Maximus. And Maggie. And Jax…” I could have added Grimm, Donovan, Jette, and York to that list, and the length of my list of problems left me bewildered. “I’ll get back to you.”

Nash’s good humor flagged, and he dipped his chin in a nod. “Just don’t ghost me. That shit hurts.”

Pain stabbed in my gut, and it wasn’t from hunger.

His hand rested atop the comforter scant inches away. Reaching over, I slipped my fingers into his.

I should have apologized, but I couldn’t piece the words together, so I settled to assure him, “I won’t.”

My short list ofplaces to put Maximus Lyle did not include Lock n’ Roll Self Storage. I would have avoided that horrific place for the rest of eternity, but the investigative team had different plans when I arrived at work Monday morning.

“We found Councilman Danvers’ missing car,” Felix announced.

Councilman Danvers, better known to me as Yankee Doodle, was last seen at the downtown construction site where he’d been photographed shaking hands with volunteers assisting the disaster recovery efforts. The same construction site I’d been loaned out to like living heavy machinery, then spent half a week sweating alongside grungy, grumpy workers who didn’t count mental work as real work, or me as much of a real man.

I doubted any of them would hesitate to talk if asked about my whereabouts that Friday afternoon when I bailed on my work assignment to deliver thecouncilman into my brother’s semi-capable hands. I left his car with Donovan, too, and never bothered to ask what he did with it.

Hearing that Felix had tracked it down stirred dread in me. I wanted to text Donovan immediately, but my urgency was matched by Holland’s as she insisted that we go right away to the location Felix pinpointed.

Pulling up to the office outside Lock n’ Roll, it was all I could do not to face-palm. Apparently, Donovan had done the bare minimum when stashing Yankee Doodle’s BMW by pulling it into the nearest available unit and closing the door.

Curse words and a crappy attitude followed me out of the patrol car, and I waved my cigarette pack at Holland as the reason for my delay in following her inside. She nodded curtly and went ahead, a woman on a mission.

With a cigarette bitten gingerly between my teeth, I fished out my cell phone and clicked to return the most recent missed call from my brother.

One ring in, Donovan’s voice cut sharply across the line. “Fitch, you dick, where have you been?”

My snort puffed smoke into the crisp air. “Don’t start with me, Donnie.”

Yanking the cigarette out, I stalked around the tiny office building to the side without windows. Once there, I flicked ash at the wall and took another drag before continuing.

“Currently, I’m at Lock n’ Roll, reminiscing on old times and wondering how bad you fucked up.”

“Me?” he yelped. “What’d I do?”

I paced the strip of dry, scrubby grass, keeping my voice at a low rumble in case Holland came looking. “They found the damn car. Great idea leaving it here. Very convenient keeping everything in one place.” I glared across the endless rows of storage buildings, all the same corrugated metal with roll-up doors. “Did you put the unit in your own name, too?”

“What car?” Donovan asked. The grunt that followed announced his realization. “Oh…”

I barked a laugh. “Oh is right. Do you realize how fucked I am?”

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