Sean’s stomach sank. It was an ambush. He was so screwed.
The guys flicked each other glances that made him feel about six years old. Sean’s having one of his freak-outs. Quick, get the trank gun.
The one person in the world who had known him better than Con and Davy knew him had died fifteen years ago, to the day. He’d have calculated it to the second, if he could, but time of death had been impossible to determine. Kev’s body had been charred beyond recognition, after taking that swan dive into Hagen’s Canyon. He’d plowed through the guardrail, fallen for a few timeless seconds, then a rending crash, a hot whump as the pickup exploded—and that was it.
The blunt, chopped-off finality of it still baffled him.
There had been no skid marks leading up to the ragged hole in the guardrail. He’d searched and searched. Kev hadn’t tried to brake.
Sean saw Kev’s falling pickup reflected in Davy and Connor’s eyes too. He looked away fast. Couldn’t bear it, couldn’t share it. He had no comfort to offer, and he was too raw to accept any from them.
He just wanted to hide, alone. In a culvert somewhere.
It was easier to look Seth and Miles in the face than his brothers. He directed his glare there. “Who invited you guys to this freak show?”
Miles shrugged, his face worried. Seth’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “I had a brother once. I don’t need an invitation.”
Ouch. True enough. Seth’s younger brother had died too. Very badly, and only a couple of years ago. His loss was fresher than Sean’s.
Great. Another thing to feel like shit about. Thanks, guys.
Sean’s gaze slid away, leaving him with no place at all to rest it except for Seth’s black Chevy. “How’d you guys find me? X-Ray Specs?”
“We monitored you this time,” Con said. “From a safe distance. Bailing you out of jail for a drunk and disorderly is embarrassing.”
“So don’t bother, next time,” Sean suggested. “Leave me to rot.” He fished his cell out of his pocket. A transmitter inside sucked off the phone’s battery. Usually, it gave him the warm fuzzies that his family cared enough to plant spyware on him. Aw, how cute, and all that.
Connor, Davy, and Seth had all had freaky wild adventures that had convinced them that beacons were a great idea for the whole family.
Most of the time, he agreed. Maybe if Kev had carried one on his person, Sean might have found him in time to stop him from—
No. Don’t go there, he told himself. Just don’t.
Impotent fury welled up inside him. He hurled the thing over a chain-link fence. It exploded against asphalt with a tinkling smash.
“That was stupid and wasteful,” was Davy’s dour observation.
Sean kept on walking. His brothers, Miles, and Seth kept pace behind him. Like dogs hanging onto a bone. The only way to get rid of them would be to beat them into unconsciousness, but each of the three older men was more or less a match for him. Even Miles wasn’t half bad these days, with all the training he’d been putting in at the dojo. The four of them together…nah. Pain sucked. He’d pass.
“He was our brother too,” Davy said quietly.
Sean sucked in a sharp breath. “I had no intention of inflicting my tantrum on anyone. Still don’t. I love you guys, but kindly fuck off.”
There was a brief pause. “Nope,” Connor said simply.
“Don’t bother asking again,” Davy said.
There was a brief pause. “Uh, ditto,” Seth added belatedly.
Sean sagged down onto a low stone wall that bordered a flower bed, and rested his hot face against his hands. “Where am I?”
“Auburn,” Davy replied. “We followed you around last night.”
“I’ll get the truck,” Seth said. “You guys keep an eye on him.”
Sean grunted his disgust. Like they expected him to start twitching and frothing.
“Whose house did you just come out of?” Connor asked.
He shrugged. “Couple of girls,” he mumbled. “A blonde, a brunette. Nice bodies. Met them at the Hole, I think.”
“You filthy slut.” Davy’s voice had a superior note, which bugged the shit out of Sean.
“Don’t judge me,” he growled. “You’ve got the love of your life in your bed every night. So do Connor and Seth. So fuck you all, OK? The rest of us assholes have to get through the night somehow.”
“Poor lovelorn baby,” Davy said. Miles made a choked, snorting sound. Connor covered his mouth and looked away. The Avalanche pulled up. Davy and Connor seized his elbows.
Sean wrenched out of their grip and got to his feet unassisted. “May I ask what is the point of busting my balls today?”
“You may ask, if you like, but we don’t need a point,” Davy replied. “We bust your balls out of sheer habit. Mouthy little punk.”
Hardly little. He was as tall as either of his brothers, and bulkier than Connor, but he didn’t have the energy to argue. He heaved himself into the back of the Avalanche. Connor got in on one side, Miles on the other, squishing him into immobility. Seth put the vehicle in gear.
“You free to take on some work?” he asked. “You don’t look busy.”
Sean stifled a groan. He sometimes did freelance bodyguarding for SafeGuard, Inc., the security company that Seth and Davy had recently founded. Usually they called him when they had explosives to deal with.
Today, the idea bored him into a state approaching rigor mortis.
“What, a bodyguarding gig nobody else wants? I’m not in the mood to ego-fluff some executive asshole, or carry shopping bags for some fat cat’s trophy wife. Take me off your list. Permanently.”
“It’s not a bodyguarding gig,” Connor said. “And it’s not for SafeGuard. It’s for me. I’m working on a weird case. Real flesh-creeper. The Cave called me in to consult. Thought you might be interested.”
And Connor’s consulting gigs for various law enforcement agencies were always fascinating, in a gruesome sort of way.
He caved almost instantly. “What’s so creepy about it?”
“We’ve got a predator who likes math and science geeks.”
“Huh.” Sean blinked. “Wow. Weird.”
“Yeah. Six cases in four months. College age, males and females both. They turn up dead, ostensibly an OD outside dance clubs, but nobody remembers seeing them inside. All gifted in math, computers, engineering. All with the same unexplained cerebral damage. None of them have family. Someone’s picking them out real carefully.”
Sean considered it. “Evidence of sexual violence?”
“In the girls there’s evidence of recent sexual activity, but this prick’s careful not to leave any DNA. He doesn’t like to fuck the boys, evidently. I’ve already got Miles on it. I could use your help, too.”
Sean had his private misgivings about “the Cave,” the covert FBI task force that his brother used to belong to. Mostly because they’d practically gotten Connor slaughtered, on more than one occasion.
“What makes you think I could help?” he growled.
“Don’t be an asshole,” Con said. “You’re useful, when you’re not bouncing off the walls. And you could, ah, use a distraction.”