“We need to talk to Striker,” Stonewall said, returning, interrupting Quasar’s heated thoughts.
Annoyed, he glanced up at Stonewall. “Why?”
“He’s about to make some crazy decisions about Margo Connelly.”
Frustrated, Quasar ran his fingers through his hair. “And you know this, how?”
“Because I do. He’s crazy about her and is fighting it.”
“Not my business, and neither is it yours,” Quasar said, standing back up and pulling his shirt down past his pants zipper.
“It will be our business if we’re the ones who have to put up with his crappy-ass mood.”
Well, hell, Quasar figured Stonewall was right about that. “Okay, so, what’s the game plan?”
As Stonewall began talking, Quasar glanced over to where Randi Fuller had been standing. Dammit, she was gone. He anxiously glanced around the crime scene but didn’t see her anywhere.
He sucked in a deep breath of disappointment and as he drew the oxygen through his lungs, he wondered if, somehow, someway, he would ever see the beautiful psychic investigator again.
Three months later
WHY IS THE NIGHT I saw Dr. Randi Fuller still so vividly clear in my mind?
That irritating question nagged the hell out of Quasar while at his home in Charlottesville, Virginia. Getting more annoyed with himself every passing minute, he grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and a slice of leftover pizza from the microwave. The very idea that any woman could linger on his mind for this long was preposterous. Especially when it was a woman he’d seen only one time.
But damn, she’d been beautiful, and he would admit to being awestruck and mesmerized. So much, in fact, he hadn’t been able to stop looking at her that night. She’d caught him staring and had boldly stared back. He’d seen the same interest mirrored in her eyes he was certain shone in his. A part of him wondered if she’d read his thoughts. After all, she was a psychic.
Deep down he knew that her paranormal abilities had nothing to do with why she’d been stuck in his mind for three solid months. For a reason he couldn’t explain, he’d felt this strange connection between them. One that had him still thinking of her three months later. As far as he was concerned, nothing about his obsession with Dr. Fuller made sense. He dated women. He bedded women. What he didn’t do was get fixated on one.
His phone rang and he recognized the tone. It was a call from his father. Normally he’d have let it go, but he decided to answer it. Maybe if his mind was full of anger at someone, it would keep his thoughts of Dr. Randi Fuller at bay. He’d never known a time when a phone conversation with Louis Patterson didn’t end in shouting.
He looked at the clock. Usually his father didn’t call past dinnertime. There was only one way to find out the reason for this abnormality. “Is there a reason for your call, Louis?” He had stopped referring to his father as Dad years ago. As far as Quasar was concerned, the man didn’t deserve the title when he’d unashamedly picked one son over the other countless times. And unsurprisingly, his father hadn’t made a fuss about the change.
“Yes, I wouldn’t be contacting you if there wasn’t. Doyle has decided to run for public office.”
Quasar’s stomach clenched at the thought of his older brother. Doyle was and always had been his father’s golden child. “Any reason you thought I needed to know?”
“Forever the smart-ass, aren’t you, Quasar?”
Quasar managed a tight smile while thinking, Yes, if it riles you, then it’s worth it. “Why do you think I need to know Doyle has decided to get his hands dirty in politics?” He figured his old man didn’t like that question, especially the reference to dirty hands.
His father ignored the comment altogether. “The media knows about you. They might want to talk to you. Get an interview.”
Quasar chuckled. “Oh, I get it. And you’re afraid I’ll tell them something. Like the truth.”
Once again there was silence on the other end of the call. Quasar liked it whenever he could render the great, all-powerful Louis Patterson speechless. It was always this way between them. He was determined never to be controlled again, and his father was intent on controlling him like old times.
The old man finally recovered and said, “When are you going to forget about that and let it go, Quasar? You know I couldn’t let Doyle go to jail.”
But you could let me go and waste three years of my life behind bars for a crime I didn’t commit. Quasar knew there was no reason to get into an argument with his father about it. The man had wanted to protect Doyle, and Quasar had been the sacrificial lamb.
As far as Quasar was concerned, the only good thing that had come out of those three years in prison was meeting a man who’d proved that not all fathers were assholes. That there were some who loved their sons...no matter how many they had. That man was Sheppard Granger. Like Quasar, Sheppard had been jailed for a crime he hadn’t committed.
Shep, as the other inmates called him, was a lot older than most of the prisoners and served time for murdering his wife. It didn’t take long for anyone who hung around Shep to know he was a natural-born leader—a positive one. He gained the respect of many and was highly admired.
Before being sent to prison, Shep was the CEO of a major corporation, Granger Aeronautics. While in prison he became a father figure to the younger inmates, their mentor, confidant and role model. Instead of acting resentful for being locked up for a crime he didn’t commit, Shep used his time in prison to implement Toastmasters, Leaders of Tomorrow, GED exams and college programs. Shep was the reason Quasar had walked out of prison a different man. A man who would no longer allow his father to intimidate him. While growing up, nothing he did pleased his father. Louis always made him feel inadequate, as if he would never measure up...like that time he’d become captain of the swim team and the team came in second place in its first competition. Instead of giving him accolades for even making it to the finals, Louis had verbally lashed out at him for not winning.
Prison had also introduced several other men into Quasar’s life. Some who were better brothers than Doyle had ever been. The first two who immediately came to mind were Striker and Stonewall.
“Quasar?” His father’s voice annoyingly intruded on his thoughts.
“I heard you. Doyle is getting into politics.”
“You gonna keep your mouth shut and not bring shame on the family’s name?”
“Don’t count on it.” Not giving his father time to respond, he clicked off the phone.
He laughed, imagining the look on his father’s face. Not too many people would have the courage to hang up on Louis Patterson and laugh about it. Oh, well.
Quasar was about to settle down in front of the television with his beer and pizza and see what was happening on the sports channel when his cell phone rang again. It wasn’t his father calling back but Roland Summers, his boss at Summers Security Firm.
Not long after being released from prison, he, Stonewall and Striker had signed on to work for Roland’s security firm. Since the three of them hadn’t known a thing about security work, Roland, an ex-con himself, understood the importance of them having steady and productive employment and had gotten them into one of the top tactical training schools in the country. In addition, Roland had hooked them up for a full year with a former Secret Service agent by the name of Grayson Prescoli.