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“You seem pretty sure about that.”
He tipped the bottle back and drank. “Because I am sure.”
“About what?” Jesse joined them.
“Salena,” Kyan said. “Dillon told me about Rourke’s arrest, so I called my old friend from high school—remember Billings?”
Jesse nodded.
“He started working for the state attorney’s office after law school. Anyway, the witness who filmed the priest through the window is unidentified only because the footage was sent to the PD anonymously from one of those proxy phone numbers.”
Jesse’s eyebrows rose. “Fuck.”
“Exactly. It was the same number.”
“You sure?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah. I compared it to the texts we got back in February.”
Chloe chose that inopportune moment to poke her head out the patio door. “They’re here.”
Kyan turned to him and murmured low, “We’ll talk more later. I’ve got a plan.”
Oh, yeah? Brendan couldn’t fucking wait to hear it.
They all mingled in Chloe’s enormous family room. It was easily the largest room in the house. Jesse’s flat screen about covered an entire wall. Taylor’s first guitar was mounted on another, along with a collage of framed gold records, album covers, and football jerseys. Photos of them all at the lake house. Charley’s. Their wedding. Their son.
This room told their story.
This house was a home.
A family lived here. Loved here.
Nothing at all like the dark devoid dwelling Brendan occupied next door. For a moment he imagined blonde hair spread upon worn black leather, pale skin pushed against midnight walls. Holding her from behind in the kitchen. Her warm body nestled beside him in his bed.
He’d never shared his bed with anyone.
Or his heart.
Or his home.
Not once.
“You look lost in thought, my friend.”
There wasn’t a thing anyone could get past Monica Peters, so Brendan wasn’t even going to try. She could read you like a book. Probably why she was one of the best shrinks in the city.
He waved at her wife, Danielle, holding their baby son on her lap across the room. She waved back. His arm wrapped about Monica’s shoulders, clasping her to his side. “You could tell, huh?” Brendan chuckled.
Monica chuckled in return. “How long have I known you?”
“Since college.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “So fourteen years, give or take.”
“Sounds about right.” Monica smiled, looking up at him. At six feet, she was the tallest woman he knew, but still, he towered over her. “Penny for your thoughts?”
They aren’t worth that much, but fuck it.
Brendan cleared his throat. “I can fuck a woman. Make her come.” He smirked and then paused. “I’m not sure if I know how to love one, though. Especially a certain one.”
