no shame." Ryan's head hit the headrest and he tossed his glasses into the center console. "It sucks being oldest sometimes, you know?"
"Try being youngest," Jay muttered.
He changed gears and roared through the dead traffic signal that ringed the intersection. With so little traffic these days, the lights strung up over the road went unused. Few worked, and those blinked yellow.
After several minutes, Jay spoke again. "None of us believe her death was an accident, Ryan. If you're planning to find her murderer on the side, Zach and I should be involved."
"No." Ryan shut his eyes and slid a hand over the file tucked in his jacket as if by reassuring himself it was still there he could intuit who to blame. "We're not going to talk about this."
"Yes, we are."
"Jay," he said, but his brother was already plowing forward.
"You can't expect us to sit by while you fall out of burning buildings on some quest to avenge our mother's death." Jay's voice rose with each word until it reverberated in the compact space. "You can't do it on your own."
Ryan crossed his arms over his seatbelt and ensured the filters he'd put up at the station had all returned to normal. He'd made a mistake. He needed to be yelled at, and Jay needed to yell. Zach would be louder.
"Getting syndicate players off the street, stopping the killing, that's what we do now." Jay took in a calming breath and relaxed his grip on the wheel. "All three of us. We're a team. We're not your baby brothers who need a sitter. And today, Zach on comm, me pulling your ass out of there — We're a team. Day or night."
"We can't tackle this as Klepto." Ryan uncrossed his arms and braced himself against the dash as Jay took another sharp curve. Then he caught the smug look on his brother's face and realized with a curse that he'd said "we". "Why won't you let this go?"
Jay pulled into their private garage at McLelas Financial and parked. He turned in his seat and his gray-blue eyes pulsed like a zoom lens on a Nikon as they adjusted to the dimmer lighting. "Because you need to trust us, Ry."
"I do trust you."
"Then stop being an ass."
Ryan jerked a hand through his hair and sighed. Stubborn ran through McLelas veins like a virus. What was so bad about trying to protect them from the backlash of his mistakes? His fingers twitched as honey-brown strands and the scent of caramel staked prime real estate in his head, taunting memory and man alike.
He aimed a sharp afterthought at his spirit guide. Don't let her see you.
CHAPTER FOUR
That fool Dale hadn't mentioned his promise at the press conference. He stood and the kitchen chair crashed to the floor.
"Not smart, Lieutenant."
With his omission, Lieutenant Dale sealed the fate of Relek City's corrupted leadership and joined the list of pretenders. Another once-righteous man fallen to the sinful lure of the white-collar underground.
Everyone eventually caved.
His message wouldn't go unheeded. They needed to understand he would see the end of every pretender — syndicate plants and corrupt officials hiding behind the mask of title and privilege, each with a chokehold on the public's misplaced trust, harming his beloved city with every filthy breath — yes, every single pretender must be purged.
This mercy, his mercy, granted time for them to step down and repent. Ignorance was a pox, but his purpose wasn't to punish stupidity. Only corruption.
He pushed open the sliding door to his balcony and turned up the volume on the TV as he walked. The city looked dirty and hollow at night. A true representation of its character. At night, Relek City flourished with people who didn't hide from what they were — vandals, thieves, killers. Real, hardened criminals stalked the dingy alleys and clubs rife with the stench of illegal smokes. There was an element of truth he almost respected.
They made the night honest.
A table on the balcony held his instruments: Wires, bullets, gasoline. He ran a loving
"Try being youngest," Jay muttered.
He changed gears and roared through the dead traffic signal that ringed the intersection. With so little traffic these days, the lights strung up over the road went unused. Few worked, and those blinked yellow.
After several minutes, Jay spoke again. "None of us believe her death was an accident, Ryan. If you're planning to find her murderer on the side, Zach and I should be involved."
"No." Ryan shut his eyes and slid a hand over the file tucked in his jacket as if by reassuring himself it was still there he could intuit who to blame. "We're not going to talk about this."
"Yes, we are."
"Jay," he said, but his brother was already plowing forward.
"You can't expect us to sit by while you fall out of burning buildings on some quest to avenge our mother's death." Jay's voice rose with each word until it reverberated in the compact space. "You can't do it on your own."
Ryan crossed his arms over his seatbelt and ensured the filters he'd put up at the station had all returned to normal. He'd made a mistake. He needed to be yelled at, and Jay needed to yell. Zach would be louder.
"Getting syndicate players off the street, stopping the killing, that's what we do now." Jay took in a calming breath and relaxed his grip on the wheel. "All three of us. We're a team. We're not your baby brothers who need a sitter. And today, Zach on comm, me pulling your ass out of there — We're a team. Day or night."
"We can't tackle this as Klepto." Ryan uncrossed his arms and braced himself against the dash as Jay took another sharp curve. Then he caught the smug look on his brother's face and realized with a curse that he'd said "we". "Why won't you let this go?"
Jay pulled into their private garage at McLelas Financial and parked. He turned in his seat and his gray-blue eyes pulsed like a zoom lens on a Nikon as they adjusted to the dimmer lighting. "Because you need to trust us, Ry."
"I do trust you."
"Then stop being an ass."
Ryan jerked a hand through his hair and sighed. Stubborn ran through McLelas veins like a virus. What was so bad about trying to protect them from the backlash of his mistakes? His fingers twitched as honey-brown strands and the scent of caramel staked prime real estate in his head, taunting memory and man alike.
He aimed a sharp afterthought at his spirit guide. Don't let her see you.
CHAPTER FOUR
That fool Dale hadn't mentioned his promise at the press conference. He stood and the kitchen chair crashed to the floor.
"Not smart, Lieutenant."
With his omission, Lieutenant Dale sealed the fate of Relek City's corrupted leadership and joined the list of pretenders. Another once-righteous man fallen to the sinful lure of the white-collar underground.
Everyone eventually caved.
His message wouldn't go unheeded. They needed to understand he would see the end of every pretender — syndicate plants and corrupt officials hiding behind the mask of title and privilege, each with a chokehold on the public's misplaced trust, harming his beloved city with every filthy breath — yes, every single pretender must be purged.
This mercy, his mercy, granted time for them to step down and repent. Ignorance was a pox, but his purpose wasn't to punish stupidity. Only corruption.
He pushed open the sliding door to his balcony and turned up the volume on the TV as he walked. The city looked dirty and hollow at night. A true representation of its character. At night, Relek City flourished with people who didn't hide from what they were — vandals, thieves, killers. Real, hardened criminals stalked the dingy alleys and clubs rife with the stench of illegal smokes. There was an element of truth he almost respected.
They made the night honest.
A table on the balcony held his instruments: Wires, bullets, gasoline. He ran a loving
Similar Books
