Nope. The tux fitting for his sister’s wedding had escaped his mind the moment she’d mentioned it the month before. “I was planning to go today,” he muttered, grabbing his notebook and pen from his shirt pocket and writing Joseph’s on an empty page.
“No, you weren’t. You forgot,” Kate said and he could almost hear her pout. The youngest child of four and the only daughter, Kate had been spoiled from the time she’d poked her screaming head out, and somehow she’d managed to find a fiancé who continued to spoil her. He liked Cooper well enough, but a fellow cop would have been the last person he’d have wanted for his sister. Unfortunately, they’d met at the station when Kate had stopped in for lunch eight months before. Cooper had been signing some paperwork and the two had hit it off, much to Chase’s dismay. They were getting married the following week.
After only eight months—it seemed too fast to him.
He didn’t believe it was possible to know anyone well enough to get married after eight months. Of course his baby sister didn’t want to hear his opinion, so he’d kept his mouth shut. To Kate, at least. To Cooper, he’d threatened life and limb should he ever hurt her. And it was the only reason he’d agreed to train the man once he’d graduated from the academy. This way he could keep an eye on him and keep his ass safe.
Something he hadn’t managed to do for his last partner...
“Fine, I forgot. But the wedding is still a week away.” What was the big deal? He’d go try on a tux later that day. Hemming a pair of pants couldn’t possibly take that long.
“Yes, but we leave for Maui in two days.”
Great, no more avoiding that discussion. He still hadn’t told his sister that his plan was to take the red-eye flight the night before the wedding then leave right after the reception dinner. Three days away from his job with the Los Angeles Police Department was more than enough. “About that—”
“Chase, don’t even say it.”
“Kate, you know it’s hard for me to get time off.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Kate...” He suppressed a yawn. The twelve-hour night shift had been tough, but not as tough as this conversation with his sister. Was there a way to block stressful calls from coming in this early? If not, someone should definitely create an app for that.
“It’s my wedding, Chase. And you’re giving me away, remember?”
As the oldest, he’d taken over for both parents when his mother and father died in a car explosion years earlier. Alan Hartley had been an undercover cop working a long-term case in drug exports. An informant had leaked his identity to the cartel leader, just days before the bust that would have put the criminal behind bars for a long time. Unfortunately, his parents had lost their lives and the investigation had been for nothing. Chase had dropped out of college and enrolled in the police force.
Setting his bag next to his desk, he collapsed into the chair and eyed the stack of paperwork in his inbox tray. He rubbed his forehead and rested his head in his hand. “Look, Adam isn’t flying in until the day before.” If his youngest brother could get away with it, why couldn’t he?
“Adam is a pro NFL player with a game schedule and a contract he needs to worry about.”
Right, and he was just responsible for civilian safety. “I’ll be there for the ceremony.”
“No, you know what, forget it—if taking time off work for your sister’s wedding is too hard for you, I’ll ask Eric to give me away instead.”
His sister was one of the best wedding planners in Los Angeles. Weddings were her life and she believed them to be one of the most important days in her clients’ lives. Trying to tell her to relax about her own would only be met with an argument he was too exhausted for. “You won’t ask Eric because—”
At the dial tone, he knew she was continuing her temper tantrum in her home across town.
He had seven minutes until she called back, because despite her threat, there was no way she would leave something that important in the hands of their carefree, laid-back younger brother.
He scanned the work on his desk. He needed a shower to wake himself up before tackling the pile of paperwork. In the locker room he tossed his vest, gun holster and boots into his locker, and removed his shirt and pants.
In the mirror he examined a gash above his left eyebrow from an untimely encounter with a knife as he’d broken up a bar fight the evening before. He’d accepted a tetanus shot at the hospital but refused stitches... In hindsight, maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Shampoo in the deep wound was going to hurt like a son of a bitch.
He turned on the shower and let the steam from the hot water fill the room as he removed his boxer briefs. Then, climbing in, he assessed the rest of the damage—bruising on his rib cage and another small flesh wound on his upper thigh.
Assholes high on crack and who knew what else. They’d spent the night in a drunk tank, but Chase had been unable to charge them for possession, finding only a small bag of marijuana on the youngest kid, who—as luck would have it—actually had a prescription for medicinal use. Today they would go free. And no doubt they’d mess up worse the next time and the next time, until finally landing in a state penitentiary, which would ultimately serve to make them better criminals.
As the water poured down his back, he leaned an arm against the shower wall and rested his head against it. He’d take another knife fight at that moment over a battle with his sister. He knew she’d get her way—Kate always did.
She knew it, too. That was why she was calling back two minutes earlier than he’d predicted. Turning off the shower taps, he reached for a towel and his ringing cell phone. “I’ll change my flights,” he said with a sigh.
“I know.”
“NO, HE CAN’T have the boat,” Hayley said into her cell phone, cradled between her shoulder and ear as she stuffed her bursting-at-the-seams suitcase under the seat in front of her. The early-morning flight to Maui was full and there was never enough room under these seats.
“Why not? He paid for it,” Mark Phillips, the opposing attorney on her latest divorce case, said.
“Because my client is getting the lake house.” She paused. “What’s the point of having the boat when he’s getting the summer home in Phoenix?” Were they seriously fighting over this? Mark had to know how stupid his client’s request sounded. Clearly, it was just another tactic to piss off his soon-to-be ex-wife.
The flight attendant approached, indicating that she end the call.
She nodded.
“He says he wants to sell it,” Mark was saying.
“No, forget it. He’s not getting it.” Even if the early morning and lack of coffee wasn’t making her cranky, the opposing attorney’s request was one she refused to waver on. Her client’s husband had cleaned out their savings to support his gambling hobby. She wasn’t giving him anything else to sell to support his addiction. He was lucky his wife wasn’t planning on airing his other addictions in court, as well.
“What about the fishing gear? Mrs. Leslie admitted she doesn’t fish.”
“Maybe she’ll develop a sudden interest.”
The flight attendant stopped by her row and gave Hayley the evil eye.
“Bye, Mark. See you in court next week.” Her tone was final. “Sorry, done,” she told the flight attendant, turning the phone off and dropping it into her purse. It would be the last time she answered it for days, and the thought nearly brought on an anxiety attack. Marvin’s