Linc sat outside and watched the first faint pinks of the sunrise touch the horizon. He loved this time of the day when everything was fresh and full of promise. There was optimism in the start of a new day. He hadn’t slept well last night—not that that was unusual, but the nightmares had started again. They seemed to come in waves, as though waiting for him to let down his guard before they rolled in.
It didn’t take a genius to work out why they were back again now. It was because of Baghdad and the fact he’d almost lost a client to a stupid mistake. He’d lost his concentration for a split second, but it had been long enough for everything to have almost gone to shit. He still couldn’t believe how close they’d come. He’d been distracted by a face from his past—a face that haunted him.
A cold sweat had broken out on his back and forehead as he’d gazed across the road at the young boy standing in a doorway. The black-eyed stare had pierced through Linc’s body like needles. It was impossible. The kid was dead. It wasn’t real. On some level he knew his mind was playing tricks on him, and yet the image held him transfixed. It was only for a second, but it felt like hours. Long enough for the guy he was supposed to be protecting to be shot at. At the very last minute Linc came to his senses and tackled his client to the ground, saving him from injury. It should never have happened. He should have noticed the car slowing down as it passed by them, the gun at the window. He would have, had he not let his mind play tricks on him.
Linc squeezed his eyes shut and massaged the bridge of his nose as he clamped down on the memories. The squeak of the screen door hinge made him open his eyes and ease back in his chair.
‘You look like shit,’ Griff said as he walked past, carrying his own cup of steaming coffee to take a seat beside him.
‘Thanks.’
Griff leaned back in his chair and looked out over the shadowed landscape, cradling his coffee. ‘How’d you sleep?’
Linc glanced over at his brother. ‘Not great.’
‘So I heard.’
Linc glanced up warily. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I heard you wake up a few times.’
Great. ‘So much for privacy.’
Griff grinned and threw him a sarcastic glance. ‘Not much has changed, especially the thickness of the walls. It was almost as bad as being next door to you as a teenager.’
‘Pervert.’
‘Well, they were wrong about one thing. It clearly doesn’t make you go blind.’
‘Shut up,’ Linc grunted in surprised amusement. ‘You can’t talk. Anyway, don’t you have your own house? Why are you sleeping here?’
‘It’s only temporary. Mum’s in the process of repainting the bedrooms in my place. Apparently I’m giving up the old house for the Samualses when they get here for the wedding.’
Her sister’s fiancé, Mitch Samuals, and his family were from Sydney’s North Shore and their mother was on a mission to make sure everything was spick and span before their arrival.
The brothers sat in silence, distracted by memories of growing up in the old house. Sometimes Linc wished they could go back to those days, back before he knew the horrors humans were capable of inflicting on one another.
‘You have nightmares often?’ Griff asked, breaking the silence.
Linc didn’t feel comfortable talking about the dreams with anyone, especially his younger brother. He hated that they made him seem weak or messed up in the head. It didn’t match the image his family had of him and he felt like a fraud.
‘Nah,’ he brushed off Griff’s concern, feeling panic begin to raise its ugly head. He needed a distraction. ‘How come you didn’t go home with the sexy neighbour last night? You losin’ your touch or something?’
He knew he’d hit a sore spot as soon as his brother’s expression hardened and his hand tightened around his mug. ‘It’s not like that,’ he muttered.
‘Like what? You like her, don’t you?’
‘Yeah. But we’re not …’ He let the sentence fade and Linc frowned a little in confusion.
‘Why not?’
His younger brother leaned forward abruptly, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. ‘I don’t know. She’s …’
‘What?’ Linc tried not to evaluate why he was so eager to find out what the problem was. He had a feeling it wasn’t entirely in his little brother’s best interests.
Griff was shaking his head slowly as he stared at the wooden floorboards beneath his booted feet. ‘She’s so … she’s hot as hell.’ He gave a sigh. ‘When I’m around her, I can’t even speak—I’m like a goddamn mute. Then last night …’
Linc tried to focus on staying nonchalant but his own thoughts were a mess of conflicting emotions. He felt like an arsehole for hoping his brother and the hot neighbour hadn’t hit it off, which just proved what a shit he really was.
Griff gave a low, mournful groan before putting his cup down and rubbing his hands briskly across his face.
‘What about last night?’ Linc prompted after Griff stopped talking.
‘No, really. What happened?’
He watched as his brother leaned sideways and picked up his cup once more, slumping in his chair and staring moodily out across the paddocks. ‘I kissed her.’
‘And?’
Griff slid him a sideways glance. ‘You practising to be a relationship counsellor or something?’
Shit. He must have sounded desperate. Get a grip, dickhead.
‘Nothing,’ Griff finally said, sounding defeated.
‘What do you mean, nothing?’
‘I mean,’ he said after tossing down the remainder of his coffee and getting to his feet, ‘I kissed her and … nothing. She wasn’t into it. She practically ran away.’
A silent cheer went up inside his head before he tackled it to the ground and pushed its head into the dirt to shut it up. ‘Maybe you misread the situation,’ he said.
‘Yeah, maybe. Who knows. Anyway, I got work to do.’
Linc stared after his brother thoughtfully. He felt bad for him—no one ever liked rejection—but what the hell was he doing chasing after a woman like Cash anyway? They had nothing in common—nothing he could see anyway. She had more in common with—No. He wasn’t going to make a play for his little brother’s girlfriend … or whatever she was supposed to be. Maybe coming back home for this long was a mistake after all.
Linc let out a long breath and cleared his thoughts. Coming home was exactly what he needed. A few weeks of good, honest hard work and he’d be back to his old self again. He just needed to keep busy and stay out of trouble—which meant staying away from Cash Sullivan. That woman was trouble with a capital T.