Brothers.
Brakes squealed, horns blared. Kev jerked away from sudden death in the form of a red Toyota FourRunner.
Pay attention. Lack of vigilance will get you killed. There it was, that stern voice floating up from the depths of memory. He assumed that it was memory. Since Tony found him, nobody had ever lectured him about vigilance, or lack thereof. This voice was from before.
Brothers. He stopped just short of braining himself on a light pole.
Fuck, maybe he should take a cab the rest of the way home. Except that he was too wound up. He’d bust an artery, cooped up in the back seat of a taxi. Better to keep moving.
Calm the fuck down, bozo. Right. After hours in the angel’s arms? And what an angel. Complicated, seductive. Wounded and wary. So gorgeous, she made his eyes sting to say nothing of his throbbing dick.
His mind was bouncing around like a pinball machine. Overloaded, lights flashing, bells dinging. Edie. Brothers. It was a long walk to his neighborhood, but he had wild energy to burn off. And he needed to talk himself down from this dangerous euphoria.
Not the Edie component. That part he didn’t have a chance of suppressing, nor did he want to. He was entitled to that euphoria, and he’d goddamn well enjoy it. Edie was a miracle.
He wasn’t sure how to sort it all out yet. Finding out that his magical talisman had been a sad, lonely little girl, dressed up for her birthday party. He’d clung to his angel for so long, used her to such good effect, he was convinced there had been real power in it. His angel wasn’t just a self-induced head trip. She’d saved his life and his sanity, many times over. There was grace in that, and he would honor it.
But now he’d traded it. For another kind of grace. A different miracle.
Brothers. God.
He couldn’t allow himself to get all intense about these possible brothers til he knew more about Parrish’s agenda. What Parrish knew, what he was hiding. The guys who claimed to be his brothers could be the ones who’d tried to kill him in the first place. Edie said that they’d threatened her father, so these men were no strangers to violence.
But then again, neither was Kev himself. He made an effort to keep his relationship to the world polite and respectful, but when the world kicked him in the teeth, he kicked back. And he kicked hard.
Parrish could have been wrong. Or just lying. But why? Why invent something random like that, out of the blue, eighteen years after the fact? And to Edie, too? There was no reason for it. No sense in it.
But the intensity of his desire for it to be true could bend his perceptions, make him blind to things that were stupidly obvious. The only way to protect himself from that danger was to stay cool, detached. To wait quietly for the muddy waters to clear.
Brothers? Holy shit. Holy…fucking…shit.
He was almost home when it happened. Like divine punishment for letting himself get so distracted. The guy was built like a fucking refrigerator, and he didn’t even notice the clown until he did a dance step to block Kev’s way and got right in his face. “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “We need to talk to you.”
Another one seized his arms from behind. His Fade Shadowseeker books fell. He was in motion before they hit the sidewalk, whipping to head butt the arm grabber. Cursing himself in that instant of grace before the pain hit while he took advantage of the man’s loosened grip.
It hit. Fuck, that hurt, but he ignored it as he loaded the meathead onto his hip and sent him hurtling headfirst into his buddy’s midriff. They skidded, bounced off the brick, tripping over garbage. Savage back kick to the nose of the guy who had spoken, whap. Side kick to the knee of the one struggling to get up, crunch.
He heaved the first guy headfirst into the brick wall of his apartment building. Damn. One would think he could come up with a defense strategy that didn’t involve using his own healing skull with its bruised, long-suffering brain as a club. Like the headaches and nausea weren’t fucking him left, right, and sideways already.
Anger at himself loaded the kick he aimed at the guy’s coccyx and sent him stumbling once again into the mold-slimed bricks. “Who the fuck are you, and who sent you?” Kev snarled.
The guy whose knee he’d smashed was whimpering, curled into a comma around his fucked up leg. The other one coughed, splayed against the wall. He peeked around, spat out a tooth.
Kev grabbed him by the shirt collar, and yanked him back a few inches. “Want to kiss the wall again, asshole? No? Then talk!”
“Charles Parrish,” the guy gasped out. “Security staff.”
Blank dismay flooded him, fizzling out the combat buzz. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered savagely. “Why didn’t you say so before you put your hands on me? You morons! I wouldn’t have broken your nose! I wouldn’t have broken his kneecap!”
The guy coughed wetly. Blood spattered from his mouth. “We were, uh, supposed to take you in,” he rasped. “Boss’s orders.”
Kev rubbed the back of his aching meat mallet of a skull. He dropped his head back and stared up at the strip of cobalt-blue evening sky that showed between the buildings, cursing in Calabrese dialect. He’d learned it from years in the diner kitchen with Tony. Tony’s principle mode of communication was virulent profanity, and Kev had had lots of opportunity to learn. Years of silent, intense listening.
Great. What a way to open a dialogue with the guy who held the secrets to unlock your whole life. To say nothing of being your new girlfriend’s father. What a calling card. Maim one of his employees, why didn’t he. Shatter a kneecap. Knock out some fucking teeth.
Sweet, as Bruno would say. Awesome first impression. Stellar.
He sighed, dug in his coat pocket for his wallet, but couldn’t find a pen. Goddamn things were all over the place until you needed one.
“You got a pen?” he asked the guy, gruffly.
The man peeked around his shoulder, eyes wide and white-rimmed, blood reddened lips trembling. “Huh?”
“A pen,” Kev repeated, patiently. “I need one.”
The man fumbled in his leather jacket pocket for a moment, and produced a sleek, heavy gold pen, liberally smeared with blood. Kev dragged out one of his Lost Boys Flywear business cards, and shoved the guy against the wall. “I need your back to write against. Hold still.” He scribbled for a moment. “This is my home phone, cell, and personal e-mail. Take this, and give it to your boss, if he wants to get in touch.”
The other guy didn’t seem inclined to move, so Kev jerked the man’s shoulder around and shoved the card into the guy’s hand. He dug in his pocket for the pack of tissues he had stashed in there, since his eyes tended to water in strong light since the waterfall incident.
He handed one to the man. “Here. Mop yourself up.”
The guy held it against his streaming nose, and dabbed, wincing.
“Give me one of your business cards,” Kev said.
The other man stared at him, stupidly. “Huh?”
“I gave you mine,” Kev pointed out.
“Why would you want—”
“Why would that be any of your fucking business? I might want to get in touch with you. You’re my new best buddy, right?”
The man shrank back as he dug into his pocket. He handed Kev a blood-smeared card. “The first one’s the main number of the security service,” he said. “The one below is my personal cell.”
Kev peered at the card. “Max Collier. That’s you?” The guy coughed, and nodded. “OK, Max,” he went on. “Tell Mr. Parrish I’m sorry I fucked up his employees.” He tried to leave it at that, he really did, but he was so fucking irritated, the impulse to scold outstripped his self-control. “But you guys were assholes to jump me like that! I would have been happy to talk to you, or to Parrish himself, at any time! Just call me. Make an appointment, like a civilized person, OK? I don’t like getting jumped on the street. It’s rude. It makes me tense. It also makes me spout pompous lectures, which is embarrassing. OK?” He waited for a moment. “OK?” he prompted, more forcefully. “We clear on that, Max? For the next time?”
The guy nodded, jerkily. “Crystal clear.”
“Good.” Kev collected the graphic novels scattered on the sidewalk, and gazed at the guy groaning and rocking in the garbage. “How far are you guys from your car? Need some help moving him?”
“No, thanks, I’m good,” Max said hastily.
Kev shoved his hands into his pockets. “OK. Get that guy to Urgent Care before he goes into shock. And, uh, have a good evening.”
“Thanks.” Max Collier’s voice shook. He seized his colleague under the armpits, and started to drag him.
Ay yi yi. Kev winced, and gritted his teeth at the gurgling shriek of pain that came out as the man’s injured leg bumped and dragged over the scattered bags of garbage. The guy’s patella was probably in several small, bloody pieces. That had to hurt.
Kev waited, making sure the guy got his buddy safely loaded into the back seat of the black SUV that idled half a block down the street before he unlocked his door. Then Edie and her revelations rushed back into his mind. He promptly forgot the incident as he ran up the steps, springs in his feet. He was enjoying the springy sensation so much, he got blindsided when he opened the door and flipped on the light.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Bruno spun around in the computer chair to face him.
The graphic novels exploded out of Kev’s arms. “Sweet Jesus!” he yelled. “Don’t do this to me! My nerves can’t take it.”
“Your nerves? Yours?” Bruno got up. “I’ve been sitting here for hours, waiting for a phone call from an emergency room, or a prison—”
“You knew where I was going! We discussed it! At great length!”
“You fucked me over! We had a deal! You were supposed to drop into the bookstore, discreetly check her out, and then call me!” Bruno roared. “But you turned off your fucking phone!”
Kev felt a twinge of guilt. He had promised that, to get Bruno off his back. And the second he’d seen those angel eyes, he’d forgotten everything. Nothing existed but Edie. He tried not to smile, but Bruno was quick at reading faces, even a deadpan scarred mask like his own.
“What’s so fucking funny?” his brother snarled. “Did you talk to her? Where did you go? What happened to you? You did something dumb, didn’t you? I can tell. I can smell it on you.”
“Jesus, Bruno. Calm down.”
Bruno opened his mouth, and then stopped. “You’re smiling,” he said. “What’s up with that? Are you on some new type of pain pill?”
Kev shook his head. Bruno stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.
“Wait. You saw that girl, didn’t you? You approached her. You talked to her. You promised you wouldn’t. You goddamn lying dog!”
Kev had never told Bruno about his little angel. Now didn’t seem an opportune time to explain that he and Edie had already met.
He shrugged off his coat. “Leave me alone. I’m tired.”
Bruno’s eyes lit up. “Oh, my God. You got laid, didn’t you? You didn’t just talk to Edie Parrish, you dirty bastard. You nailed her!”
Kev flinched. What had happened between himself and Edie could not be reduced to that crude phrase. “Don’t speak about her that way.”
But Bruno was capering and crowing like the twelve-year-old that he truly was. “I can’t believe it! So why didn’t you bring her back here?”
“I tried,” Kev snapped. “She’s busy tonight. A Helix banquet to honor the big cheese dad who’s retiring. I’ve got a date with her after.”
Bruno blew out a breath, like a stallion. “You’re making me dizzy. You meet Edie Parrish, dance the horizontal tango with her, get the shit pounded out of you by her daddy’s security, and now, you’re taking her out on a date? All in a day’s work for Kevlar, the mystery man.”
“I told you not to talk about her that way,” Kev repeated. “And they didn’t pound me. I pounded them.”
“Whoa!” Bruno blinked. “So, ah, how was it? How is she?”
He frowned at his brother. “That’s private,” he muttered.
Bruno waggled his eyebrows. “Lest my filthy mind skulk too near your shining goddess? Soiling her with my nasty—mmhph!”
He pinned Bruno to the wall. His brother struggled, clutching at Kev’s hand, which was clamped over his throat. “I meant it,” Kev said, his voice steely. “Be respectful, or I’ll beat you to a bloody pulp.”
Bruno made a theatrical gagging sound, but an uncontrollable grin was carving out the very dimples Edie had so admired. “You’ve got a lot of energy today,” his brother croaked out, looking impressed.
“You have no idea,” Kev held Bruno clamped to the wall for a moment, and decided to keep Edie’s brothers bombshell to himself for now. No need to get Bruno into a jealous snit until Kev knew more.
He let Bruno drop. His brother rubbed his throat, his face thoughtful. “It occurs to me that you’re probably the one guy on the planet who might be a halfway decent boyfriend for this Parrish chick.”
Kev was startled, the Fade Shadowseeker books flashing through his mind. He crouched to gather them up. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you genuinely do not give a fuck about the money.”
Kev laid the books on his desk, and frowned, genuinely puzzled. “What does money have to do with anything?”
Bruno rolled his eyes. “Hello? Helix heiress? Multiple billions? Never crossed your mind? Of course not. That’s Kevlar for you.”
Kev shook his head. “She lives in a two room, fourth floor walk-up on NE Helmut with a broken knob lock, Bruno. She’s not rich.”
“You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?” Bruno shook his head. “You are one crazy-ass son of a bitch.”
“I’m not crazy,” Kev said, irritated. “I just think it’s irrelevant.”
“Hah. God help me, but I don’t think I could do it,” Bruno said.
“Could what?”
“Look at an heiress of billions without seeing the money first,” Bruno said baldly. “Ching ching. I’m not proud of it, but there it is.”
Kev shrugged. “You’ve never seen Edie Parrish,” he said softly.
Bruno looked charmed. “Aw. That’s just sweet, bro. Check you out, man. You’re in a class all your own. You get the gold star.”
“Could we cut out the bullshit?” Kev asked plaintively. “You have to help me out. Since you’re trespassing, make yourself useful.”
“Useful how?”
“With the date,” Kev said. “You’re the ladies’ man. Where do I take her? Is there a place in town that’s good after midnight?”
“What kind of place?” Bruno’s eyes narrowed.
“All I know is that she’ll be in a floor-length, eight-thousand-dollar evening gown, so it has to be nice. Mellow. Good music, candlelight? A table someplace in the back where we can talk, hold hands?”
“Hold hands? The man wants to hold hands?” Bruno went bug-eyed. “Fuck me,” he breathed. “You are in love.”
Kev decided he didn’t want to discuss that emotionally loaded issue with Bruno. “Don’t know. Never been in love. Got any food?”
Bruno’s eyes widened even more. “What’s this about food?”
“For months, you’ve been bringing food here, and trying to shove it into my face. You mean to say you didn’t bring some today?”
Bruno bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, punched a code into his cell, and waited, humming. “Yeah? Take-out order. One beef taco, one chorizo sausage quesadilla, an order of steak fajitas, an order of enchiladas, four chicken tamales, extra guac, sour cream, and extra spicy fresh salsa.” His eyes flicked thoughtfully over Kev’s body. “No beans,” he said. “Not tonight. But put in a quadruple order of fresh tortilla chips, and a six-pack of Corona. And a lime. Got it? Great.” He rattled off his card number and the address, and broke the connection.
Kev was taken aback. “Holy shit, Bruno. That’s a lot of food.”
“You need to tank up, both after sex and before it,” Bruno said knowledgeably. “And I’ll help you eat it. Getting a clueless slob like you ready for a hot date is going to give me an appetite.”
“But I don’t want to wait for food delivery,” Kev complained. “I want to get going, find a parking place near the hotel. In case she gets bored, or wants to leave early. I don’t want to risk missing her.”
Bruno’s eyes swept over him contemptuously. “In that? You’re looking to escort a woman in an eight-thousand-dollar evening gown in those rags? Those jeans look like you slept in them. And what’s on the shirt? Blood stains? Dude. Gross. Your blood, or the other guy’s?”
Kev peered at the front of his sweater. There were brownish smears on his chest. Physical violence was hard on a guy’s wardrobe.
“It’s the other guy’s blood,” he said. “And get out of my face. We can’t all be George Clooney.”
Bruno rolled his eyes. “Get into the fucking shower,” he directed. “I’ll pick out your clothes. Just wash your hair. I’ll gel it myself. Shave, too. Looks weird when the beard starts coming in only on one side of your jaw, and you look weird enough as it is. Put on the aftershave I gave you. Chicks love the stuff. You haven’t even broken the seal.”
“Stop snooping in my cabinets, punk,” Kev grumbled as he headed for the bathroom.
He had to laugh at himself as he got ready. Primping for his date like some crushed out teenage boy. Not that he had any memory of being one of those, but he could imagine it. Sex on the brain. Young, dumb, and full of come. Shaking inside, with terrified joy.
He hadn’t known sex like that existed. He’d never dreamed how deep it could cut. How hot it could burn. He was wide open to her now.
She could slide those slender, cool fingers in between his ribs, grab his heart, and squeeze it out of existence. And he didn’t care. He’d found his angel. She was his. Or more precisely, he was hers.
And he was cooked.