Burden (10 page)

“Thank God.”

He glanced up just as the man from the station and the one from the coffee shop called Keegan over to them. They spoke to each other for a few moments, and then each of them turned in Brennan’s direction. The looks on their faces did nothing to settle the anxiety in Brennan’s stomach. In fact, they increased it. Keegan’s jaw worked hard, the muscles bunching as he ground his teeth together.

The man from the station gestured to another officer, put a hand on Keegan’s shoulder as if to keep him from leaving, and spoke to the coffee-shop guy.

Things would be so much easier if he could remember any of their fucking names.

Keegan’s gaze never left Brennan’s. He nodded to whatever the station man said to him—what did the two bars mean? Captain? Jesus. Stupid brain. Then the two shook hands, and Keegan headed his way with coffee-shop man trailing behind.

“You okay, Bren?” Keegan cupped the back of Brennan’s neck, and Brennan found himself leaning into the touch.

“Yes. What was it?” Although he knew. The man in the bomb suit had followed the dog in.

“Yes, what was it? Did I bring a bomb into Brenny’s home? I’ll never forgive myself.” Aunt Caroline fussed her hands in front of her and danced from foot to foot.

Keegan smiled. “It is a bomb, and it’s already being taken care of. You brought it in, but you had no idea what it was, and it wouldn’t have gone off without opening it.”

“Oh, Brenny. You could have been so hurt. Again. And it would have been all my fault.”

“S-stop it, Aunt Caroline.” Brennan took both her hands in his and squeezed.

“You’ve been through so much. I can’t imagine burdening you any more.”

“Which is why I’m taking him with me.” Keegan’s gaze never left Brennan’s, but something in both his eyes and his voice made Brennan’s anxiety somersault inside his stomach. “We need to talk about what else was in that box.”

Chapter Eleven

“Why haven’t we heard anything?”

He rolled his eyes and popped the kinks out of his neck with a quick jerk of his head to both sides. “Gee, I don’t know. I guess he didn’t fucking open your little present yet. Or maybe this time
you
fucked up and didn’t set the goddamn thing right.” Of course they’d set the thing right; he’d just added his own little touch. He was done being a pawn in their game.

“I’d watch what you say to me.”

The soft, lethal tone didn’t faze him at all.

“Why? Why the fuck are we doing this? We should walk in, pop him between the eyes and be the fuck done with it. Why the games? The covert shit? If he knows so goddamn much, let’s get this over with and go on with our fucking lives.” He had to keep them thinking he was still playing their side.

“He knows everything.” The softness was gone, replaced by an angry snap. He swore if he’d been standing in front of them, he’d have taken a fist to the face.

“Great. Then I’ll finish this tonight. No more games.” Had to stay in character.

“If you leave one shred of evidence behind, there’s not one of us who will back you.”

“You never have.” He disconnected the call and threw the phone on the seat beside him. Enough bullshit. This asshole didn’t know him from Adam. He could walk right up to the man’s face, put a bullet in his head and walk out with no one the wiser. Except now, of course, he had to deal with his new friend too. Sort of put a kink in things, which was why he had neglected to tell them everything. Not that he cared. He’d neglected to tell them a lot of things lately. They’d have thrown a conniption and sent in reinforcements. He didn’t need reinforcements, and they didn’t need to know all the details.

He may have missed yesterday, his mistake. Oops. He wouldn’t make another one. Because he was switching sides. They’d made a huge mistake threatening him. He wouldn’t be anyone’s bitch.

No worries. He lit a cigarette and watched as a man, covered head to toe in a bomb suit, flipped his helmet off and stripped out of his gear, stashing each piece in the trunk of a car.

Why hadn’t the group heard from him yet? Because their package had never been opened. Not in the way they meant it to anyway. Stupid idiots. They were dealing with a cop. You don’t send a fucking clichéd bomb in a brown-paper-wrapped box and expect anyone with any sort of intelligence to willingly open it in today’s world.

At least he’d hope to shit the cop was smart enough to know not to open the fucking box. It was time to play the game his way. He had a feeling things were about to go downhill for the group.

He was looking forward to watching them fall apart.

Keegan spent the mostly silent and far-out-of-the-way ride back to his place alternating between searching for a tail and contemplating the turn of events and how to approach Brennan with the information he’d been given. Brennan hadn’t said much of anything since collecting a few things from his apartment to get him through the next couple of days and then securing the Bobs with his aunt. She, in turn, had given Keegan a strict warning, complete with threatening dismemberment of his manly parts, that he had better keep her nephew safe.

“This isn’t about you, is it?”

The question startled Keegan. He jerked his gaze from the road to give Brennan a quick once-over. The other man didn’t turn from watching out his window. So much for wondering how to tell him.

“No.”

“I guess the b-burden of m-my past is catching up with m-me.”

Keegan tightened his grip on the steering wheel until the leather creaked beneath his fingers. “I hardly call going over a cliff a burden.”

Brennan snorted and finally faced forward. “You haven’t lived m-my life the last year.”

“Touché. What I mean is, how is your accident a burden to anyone other than you who’s had to live with the consequences?”

“If it wasn’t an ac-accident—”

“Then someone deliberately ran you off a mountainside,” Keegan finished for him. The mere thought made his stomach turn. What did Brennan know that would cause someone to want him dead? And why all of a sudden, after a full year had gone by, were they coming after him again? “Why?” he repeated himself, this time out loud.

“For the same r-reason they are trying now.”

“But why now? It’s been a long time. It’s not like you’re hiding and it took this long to find you. You’ve been out in the open all along.”

“I d-don’t know. If I d-did, I w-wouldn’t be in this m-mess, would I? I can’t even remember m-my social s-security n-number, let alone w-what happened that n-night.”

“First of all, slow down.” He took hold of Brennan’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “You’re all worked up, and it’s making you stutter more.” He smiled when Brennan’s face reddened. “No one’s ever called you on it before?”

“Only Michael.”

Keegan took the turn off the main road onto the street leading into his subdivision. “Yeah, well, under the circumstances, I’ll make it my job to.” He navigated between the parked cars lining his street and wondered, not for the first time, why all of the driveways were empty. That’s what driveways were for. Parking. So why did not one of his neighbors use theirs?

He pulled into his garage, shut off the engine and sat staring at the wall in front of him, enjoying the way Brennan’s thumb caressing his felt.

Keegan sighed. “There was a bomb in the box.”

Brennan faced him and nodded. “You said as m-much.”

“The wires had been cut.”

“What?” Brennan spun his startled face to Keegan’s, his eyes wide with questions.

Keegan separated their hands and put his palm on Brennan’s cheek. “The wires had been cut. It never would have gone off.”

“So w-why send it? What’s a bomb with no boom?”

“I don’t know. But there was something else. Papers. Newspaper clippings. Articles.”

Brennan’s face scrunched up, and his eyebrows came together. “P-packing material?”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“Because every single one of them had to do with your accident.”

The surprised gasp Brennan let out cut Keegan like a knife. He was a shithead for not waiting until they were at least inside in a more comfortable place before springing this on him.

Keegan used his thumb to trace Brennan’s bottom lip, trying to distract him. He did a hell of a job distracting himself in the process. The plump pink tissue making up Brennan’s mouth called to him, begged to be kissed. But there were things they needed to talk about, so he didn’t give in.

Much.

He reached blindly for the garage-door opener and pressed the button, closing them into darkness, and then slowly leaned forward and took Brennan’s mouth with his. He’d come to crave the taste of the other man, couldn’t get enough of him. Couldn’t wait to see him stretched out, naked on his bed, legs spread, cock hard and his hole lubed and ready.

For the first time since reacting to the box back in his apartment, Brennan relaxed. His shoulders slumped, and Keegan felt the release of breath he’d been holding. One set of Brennan’s fingers tangled in Keegan’s hair while the other twisted a knot in Keegan’s shirt at his waist.

Their tongues danced, rubbing together, and their lips melded, sealing the world out.

And if he didn’t put a stop to this, they were going to end up fucking in the car in his garage like teenagers trying not to get caught.

Breathing hard, Keegan broke the kiss. He put his forehead on Brennan’s. It was a position he was fast coming to love because it put them eye to eye and nose to nose, their breaths intermingling like they were drowning in each other’s souls.

“Jesus, you’re addicting.” He licked his lips, savoring the flavor of Brennan on his skin.

Brennan snorted. “Just call me crack.”

“I can get you anything you want, you know. Crack, dope, meth, acid—”

“Dammit, Tonya, I need a name. Nothing else. Come on. You know what’s going on and you know who’s running it.”

Tonya swallowed, and for the first time showed true fear. She turned away from him, her hands shaking and her foot jerking back and forth in a frantic rhythm. Finally she looked at him. “They’ll kill me.”

“I can keep you safe. I can get you out of here, out of this life, but you’ve got to help me nail them.”

Her eyes swam with desperation and despair. A second later she leaped from the booth, her gaze swinging everywhere but to him, and she whispered, “I need a ride.”

“Goddammit, Brennan.” Both of Keegan’s hands were holding Brennan’s head when his eyes refocused. “What the fuck? I
hate
when you do that.”

“I’ll try and stop.” Brennan’s voice cracked as if he’d been sleeping for a while.

“Jesus. Fuck.” Keegan sucked in a breath. His jaw bunched as he ground his teeth.

Brennan swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“God. Don’t be sorry. Come on. Let’s get you inside. Get some food in you, and we’ll talk.”

The only thing Brennan could do was follow Keegan into his house. The kitchen was surprisingly contemporary with stainless-steel appliances, a pot rack above the island and glass cabinets.

A half-filled coffeepot sat in the corner near the fridge and an empty glass near the sink. They’d walked through a mudroom complete with a pile of laundry in front of the washer. Those were the only things that said the house was lived in. The place was spotless.

Keegan dropped the box on the island and stalked over to the fridge. Brennan shook his head. He hadn’t even seen Keegan pick the box up. He put his bag of clothes next to the doorway that led to an equally clean living room and smiled.

“Do you actually live here?”

“Yes. But I haven’t been here much lately because I was undercover for a while, so I’ve had a friend keeping the place up for me.” His gaze traveled the kitchen. “She does a good job.”

“Mmm…”
She?

“Yes, she. A neighbor,” Keegan said, apparently reading Brennan’s mind. “Kinda thought you knew I was gay.”

Brennan nearly choked on his own spit. He spun around to find Keegan thumbing through a pile of coupons.

“Pizza?”

“Sounds good. Ham. And…that…stuff…” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “Spicy. B-brown.”

One of Keegan’s eyebrows rose. “Pepperoni?”

“Yeah.” He hung his head.
Jesus, Brennan, fucking pepperoni. How hard is that?

“Got it.” Keegan ordered their pizza and some wings, and Brennan was thankful the man hadn’t acted weird when Brennan couldn’t even recall a pizza topping.

“Beer?” Keegan hung the phone in its cradle and opened the fridge. When he bent over, Brennan’s mouth went dry. The man had a world-class ass. “Beer?”

“What? Oh, no. I-I… Not with my m-meds.”

“Right. Sorry. Coke?”

“Sure.” Brennan took the can when Keegan handed it to him.

“The pizza’ll be here in thirty minutes or so. Why don’t we look at these clippings and decide what to do next?”

Brennan hesitated in reaching for the box that had been meant to blow his head off. “You weren’t the target yesterday, were you?”

Keegan grabbed the box and then took Brennan’s hand, the touch alone lending him a strength he hadn’t been aware was missing. They walked to the couch where Keegan urged him to sit and then plopped down next to him. Their thighs touched from knee to hip, and their shoulders bumped.

With a flick of his wrist, Keegan flipped the top off the box. Nestled inside was the device, and surrounding it, several newspaper clippings. With a sigh, Brennan plucked one out and eyed the picture of himself. The article detailed the crash, an IA detective over the side of the mountain pulled from the wreckage alive, severe head trauma, no evidence it was anything other than an accident.

The woman next to him screamed as the car went airborne.

He jerked the next one out.
IA Detective Brennan McGuire Involved in a One-Car Accident, Life Hanging in the Balance
.

“What’s going on, Brennan?”

The third said the same.

“Fuck. Hold on, Tonya.”

And the fourth and the fifth and the sixth.

The scrunch of metal grated on his ears, and the jarring impact threw him forward into the steering wheel. Tonya shoved her arms forward to grab the dash. “We’re gonna die!”