Burden (3 page)

So not the time for attraction.

Chapter Three

Keegan had a hard time keeping it together. Someone taking a potshot at him had really thrown him for a loop. It shouldn’t have since it certainly wasn’t the first time it had happened, but for whatever reason, his normal tough-guy, cop persona was escaping him.

He hated to think it was because of the swirl of sexual attraction in the pit of his stomach. Brennan’s liquid, cobalt-blue eyes and mussed-up, short blond hair were having an effect on him. Regardless of whether Brennan was IA or not, Keegan shouldn’t be feeling any sympathy for him until he knew for a fact he hadn’t been involved in the shooting.

Then why was he leaning toward Brennan’s innocence?

“What is your n-name?” There was a slight tremor in Brennan’s voice, which, again, tugged at Keegan’s conscience.

And who could blame the man for being nervous?

Fuck. Since when had he ever felt the need to be hospitable to a suspect?

Time to get back in his comfort zone. No slack.

“Keegan. That’s Tim. Did you get a good look at the shooter? I mean obviously you saw him, or you wouldn’t have been able to knock me out of the way. Hell, you said I was going to get shot, so I know you either saw him or you knew he was there. Did you have second thoughts?”

The man’s eyes widened for a split second, and then he glanced away again. Brennan refusing to meet his gaze was starting to piss Keegan off.

Partly because he liked looking at those blue, fathomless eyes and partly because he didn’t want Brennan to be scared of him—which made absolutely no sense. But it did make him wonder what Brennan had been like as a detective for Internal Affairs. This same quietness, or had he been the opposite?

“I saw him,” Brennan finally said. “B-black pants, black…” He gestured over his shoulders and arms.

“Shirt?” It killed Keegan to think what this was doing to Brennan’s obviously off-balanced, new way of life.
Goddamn it! Suspect, Keegan. You don’t know he’s innocent yet.

Brennan shook his head in apparent frustration.

“Jacket?”

“Yes.” The word came out so excitedly Keegan was surprised Brennan didn’t pump his fist in the air.

And why did Brennan’s small triumph relieve him?

“What else?”

“Hood.”

“Did you see his face?” Keegan couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. If Brennan could identify the man, then Keegan would know whether it had anything to do with the case he’d just wrapped. While he thought he’d put all the key bad guys away, there was always the possibility one of them had put a hit out on him.

“Maybe. Mostly I saw the gun.”

“But you’ll go through the mug shots?”

Brennan turned toward Michael for what seemed like reassurance, and Keegan had the urge to punch the doctor. The strong jerk of jealousy threw Keegan. He’d never been jealous with any of his sexual partners—not that Brennan would ever be one. He squashed the desire to shove Michael St. John from the room so they might actually get something done, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t inspire Brennan to trust him.

A few seconds passed then Brennan finally faced him again. “Yes.”

“How long will this take?” Michael flipped his wrist over to see his watch.

“No telling. You got somewhere to be, go.” Keegan was nearly to the point of showing him out by the neck anyway.

“Brennan?” Michael’s tone was soft. Gentle.

Fuck. It almost hurt Keegan’s chest to think of Brennan being so dependent on this doctor that he couldn’t even be left alone in a police station without needing support.

Brennan nodded once, but Keegan noticed he swallowed as if nervous, which irked him all the more. He was in his least intimidating state right now when he could be playing the ultimate dickhead. Come to think of it…Tim was being pretty damn stoic too. Unusual for him, as well. Maybe they were both leaning in the same direction.

Thank fuck Tim was a happily married heterosexual man with a baby on the way. Keegan would really abhor having to kill his best friend.

Christ almighty. There you go again, Keg. The man is not sex material.

“Fine. Gentlemen, I do have a meeting to make. I trust you’ll make sure Brennan gets home?” Except the way Michael said it made it sound like he had very little faith in either of them helping Brennan find his way out of the station, let alone home.

“I’ll walk you out.” Tim shifted from where he was holding the wall up and let St. John precede him from the room.

“Do you go anywhere without him?” Keegan couldn’t help asking Brennan the snarky comment. Another jealous moment.

“I w-went to the coffee shop without him, didn’t I?”

“Sorry. That was uncalled for.” Keegan slapped his thighs and then rubbed his palms up and down them. “Let’s just get this over with.” He stood and waited for Brennan to do the same, though he did it with a weary reluctance. “I don’t bite,” Keegan finally snapped. No matter how the guy was involved, he was sick and tired of Brennan being scared of him.

Those beautiful blue eyes turned full force on him. “I do.”

Keegan let out a breath and laughed at the lightened mood. The thick tension literally lifted from his shoulders. Well, there was at least a clue toward which team Brennan batted for.

“This way. I guess you know all about going through mug shots.”

The sadness returned full force. Brennan licked his lips, an action Keegan felt all the way to his groin.

“I don’t remember much from that life.”

“Damn. Nothing?” Keegan couldn’t imagine giving up his life as a cop.

Brennan shrugged. “My old partner comes by a couple times a m-month. He fills me in.”

“Still. It’s got to be hard.” He led them down the hall to another room with a desk. Normally they’d do this sort of thing in a different area, but there’d be lots of other people around, and he had a sneaking suspicion Brennan would be more comfortable alone.

“Don’t you guys hate IA?”

“Hate’s a pretty strong word. Besides, I’m guessing with the situation, you’re not really IA anymore, are you?” Keegan smiled at him and wondered if he was having the same problem in keeping his hands to himself. Keegan was ready to throw him up against the wall and kiss the shit out of him. The hell of it was, Keegan could be totally wrong in his assumptions and Brennan wasn’t even gay at all. If he were at home, he’d go take a cold shower.

“No. Not anymore.”

“So, this is all from a car accident?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” Keegan opened the door and followed Brennan into the room. He looked around and sized the area up before pulling the chair out and sliding into it.

“Not sure. Went over the m-mountainside. Woke up a hundred yards away from the burnt-out car.”

“You were thrown?”

“I guess.”

“Were you alone?”

“No.” And that one word was final.

Keegan knew enough to back off. He had to admit, Brennan had piqued his interest. He’d get more out of him later. Hell, he could just look up the report.

“I had a feeling you’d bring him here.” Tim came in laden with mug-shot books and set them on the desk with a thump. “Some of these are in the computer, but these are the ones that haven’t been entered yet.”

Brennan nodded. “’Kay.”

“Just do your best.” Tim grabbed Keegan’s arm and flicked his head toward the hall. “Word with you?”

Out in the hall, Tim put his hands on his hips. “You’ve already moved him from suspect to witness, haven’t you?”

Keegan couldn’t deny it. “Yes.”

“Don’t let him fuck you up, man. First and foremost is finding out who wants to put a bullet in your head.”

“I think I can keep my hormones in check, Dad.”

“Good. Remember, I need you around for Horace because I sure as shit have no clue what I’m doing.”

“And you think I do?”

“It’ll be a learning experience for us both. Besides, friends don’t let friends fuck witnesses.”

“You just don’t want me doing IA. Besides, the guy doesn’t appear to be gay, so I’ll try to keep my pants zipped,” Keegan lied.

“Thank you.” Tim took him in a bear hug reminiscent of that morning before all hell had broken loose and slapped him on the back. “Call me if he finds anything.”

Brennan gazed at the overwhelming stack of photos in front of him and wanted to bolt. He was getting a lesson all around. First as a suspect, practically arrested—not quite, but he had a feeling Keegan would have done so if he were anything less than the honest cop he seemed to be. He’d known a few guys who would have shot first, asked later. Then he’d been put in an interrogation room and questioned. And now they were treating him as a witness, looking for a suspect he wasn’t sure he could identify anyway. Not that his testimony would be reliable, as fried as his brain was.

He dragged a hand over his face and then opened the first tome of photo after photo. This was like finding a needle in a haystack. A low throb started at his right temple. Not unusual in the least. He was getting used to the headaches. The real bangers were getting fewer and farther between, thank God. In the beginning he’d sometimes been crippled for days at a time with post-concussion migraines.

His gaze skipped over the African-American men, as the gunman had most definitely been Caucasian. That eliminated about half the mug shots. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do since he couldn’t recall much of the man’s face other than he’d been looking toward them. His eyes had been dark, but then he’d had a hood up so the eyes could have been brown or dark blue.

Brennan sat back and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The pain at his temple was really starting to kick in as well as the wavy lines that usually came before a big headache.

He tried looking at the faces again, but they sort of blended together.

“Anything yet?”

Brennan jumped at the voice right behind him. He couldn’t imagine having made a very good cop if he didn’t even hear someone approaching him from behind.

“No.”

“Hey. You okay? You look a little pale.” It was kind of funny how the officer, Keegan—was he supposed to call him by name?—suddenly seemed worried about him when earlier he’d seemed more than willing to pull out a little bit of police brutality.

“Headache.”

“I guess getting your head slammed on the concrete didn’t help, huh?”

“No.”

“Were you always quiet, or is this something new?” Keegan yanked a chair around and sat the way he had in the interrogation room, straddling the back so he faced Brennan.

Brennan hated being the center of attention, which was often where he found himself since he’d come to in the hospital. The feeling of being under a microscope made him squirm.

“I can’t help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Keegan laced his arms over the back and put his chin down on his stacked hands.

“I d-didn’t see him.”

“Maybe your subconscious did. You’ll never know unless you try. But, I can see that this whole day has taken a toll on you, so time to go home. We can always try again tomorrow.” Keegan stood, his powerful thighs just a foot or so away from Brennan. Close enough he could reach out and touch.

Brennan curled his fingers into fists and tucked them against his stomach. A cold dread spread through him. Getting home from The Drip was one thing—he was almost used to that—but getting home from the police station was something completely different since he didn’t know where he was. He was totally unfamiliar with the route. Plus, it meant calling a cab or finding a bus stop and dealing with money amounts he wasn’t used to. The whole idea made him ill.

“Whoa. What’s wrong? You just went from pale to green.” Keegan stepped back as if he was afraid of getting barfed on.

“Um…” Fuck. A fine sheen of sweat beaded on his upper lip. He was going to have to ask the man for help. Like a fucking child. “C-could you call m-me a cab?”

“Hell no.” Keegan’s eyes narrowed. “I like my neck the way it is, Bren. I have a feeling if I left you to your own devices, Michael St. John would have a vise around my throat. The man’s a tad overprotective.”

“He’s helping me.”

Keegan huffed out a breath as he turned away, and Brennan could almost smell the frustration written all over the other man’s body.

“No cabs or buses. I’ll take you home.”

“Fine.” Brennan stood and stretched the kinks from his spine. Every muscle protested. There’d been a time he’d worked out religiously. Nowadays his body betrayed him. Rounds and rounds of physical therapy had given him back his mobility, but getting back into fighting shape was taking much longer than he’d ever thought it would.

“Where do you live?” Keegan had gone from sympathetic to gruff.

Shit.

Shit.

“Hello?”

“S-s-s…” Brennan closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. He was supposed to breathe, right? Breathe through the panic and get himself back on track. He could do this, damn it.

Fuck. Nothing. Not a clue where he lived. He could picture his aunt’s stately house, with the garage in the back and the apartment above, where he currently resided—mostly so his aunt could keep an eye on him, he was sure. There were oak trees lining the driveway and pretty pink and purple tulips in the window boxes.

“Brennan.” Keegan’s hands settled on Brennan’s shoulders, thumbs rubbing each side of his neck. “Calm down. Relax.”

He felt like a goddamned fool. A man utterly incapable of remembering his own goddamned address.

“I can find it.” Keegan’s voice soothed Brennan’s nerves. “I can get it out of the system, no big deal.”

If you ever get overwhelmed, lost, confused, whatever, all your information’s in your wallet, Brennan. I’m putting it right here.
Michael had stuffed a piece of paper in Brennan’s wallet months ago.

“N-no. I have it.” Brennan removed himself from Keegan’s hold and wondered why he missed the touch. He reached for his wallet and plucked the paper from its pocket. Instead of looking like a bigger fool and trying to unfold the thing with his shaky hands, he simply handed the paper to Keegan, who opened it and nodded.