Chasing Shadows (7 page)

"No, you never did.  So just finish the job and leave me alone.  I know what I'm doing."  Jay turned toward the suitcases.

Westin's gaze drifted from his younger brother to laser in on KC.  "No.  I won't, I can't.  You had dreams, Jay.  Are you giving up everything because of her?"  He acted as if KC wasn't even there, as if she were nothing.  "You can't.   Don't toss away your life on account of some girl—"

Jay whirled, raised the poker.  Before KC could intervene, Chase swept Jay's legs out from under him and twisted the poker from his hand in a blitzkrieg strike.  Jay lay on the floor, catching his breath.  KC ran to his side, helped him to his feet, keeping her body between him and his brother's gun.

"Don't you talk about her like that!" Jay said.  

KC flinched at the emotion in his voice.  Damn it, she'd tried hard to keep the kid from falling for her.  No time to think of that now, she had to stop the two brothers from killing each other.  

"Jay's old enough to make his own decisions," she said, giving her voice a touch of pouty whine, "and you can't stop us."  

She reached for Jay's hand, pulled him close, where she could keep him out of the line of fire if his crazy brother went off again.  "No one can.  So why don't you just go back where you came from?  We don't need you."

"Better yet, you stay—we'll go."  Jay's hand squeezed hers.  He pulled KC with him as he marched toward the door and reached for his bags.  "I can bunk at Neil's."

"Wait, Jay.  I didn't come here to fight.  Stay.  It's Christmas Eve, I'll only be here for a day or two—"

KC glanced over her shoulder at Chase.  The poker hung forgotten from his hand, and he looked like a kid who'd found a lump of coal in his stocking.  She felt Jay hesitate.  Nothing in the report on Chase Westin mentioned any violence toward his brother.  But who knew how a stint in Leavenworth could change a man?  The guy was built, his biceps bulged beneath his flannel shirt.  He'd been holding back, could have easily pummeled Jay into the ground if he'd wanted.

No matter how screwed up Jay's brother was, KC couldn't bring herself to tear them apart on their last night together.  She only hoped she wasn't making a big mistake.

"Stay—talk, fight, whatever.  After tomorrow you'll have the rest of your life," she reminded Jay.  He frowned, then nodded.  She felt Chase's eyes on them and so stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on Jay's lips.  To her surprise, Jay's arms pulled her close, and he prolonged the embrace.

The kid wasn't acting.  KC hoped he realized she was.  She kept her eyes on his, saw Jay's snap open as she pulled back.  His face flushed with embarrassment, and he released her.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

KC smiled, placed a finger to his lips.  "Don't be.  I'll see you tomorrow."

She took one last look at the tall former Marine with his scruffy jeans and flannel shirt and too-long, tousled hair.  Chase Westin stared at her with hunger in his eyes.  She met his gaze, watched in surprise as he broke first, spinning away on his heel.

One thing for sure, KC thought as her footsteps crunched through the snow, Chase Westin was nothing like his little brother.  Chase Westin was trouble.

CHAPTER 8

Chase moved toward the Barcalounger at the same time Jay did.  He stopped short.  It wasn't his house anymore.  

He side-stepped to the couch instead.  Jay slouched in the recliner, his eyes never leaving Chase's face, as if he were frightened of his own brother.  Or like Chase was a stranger, unpredictable and therefore dangerous.

How had he allowed it to come to this?  He'd purposely stayed as far from Jay as possible—to protect him, he'd thought.  But did he have to lose Jay in order to keep him safe?  What could he do now to fix it?  Short of telling Jay the truth.

"What's going on?" he asked Jay, nodding at the door KC had just gone through, shiny handcuffs dancing after her, purple hair gleaming in the porch light.  "She's not your type."  

No, but judging by the heat raging through his veins and the tightness gathering beneath his waistband, KC was exactly Chase's type.  The memory of that fierce glare as she made ready to bash his brains in, her chest heaving, the leather vest tightening over those oh-so-sweet breasts...

Chase grimaced and forced his attention back to his brother.  Jay's type of girl was much more apple pie and sweater sets.  Someone like Mom.  Not a leather and chains punker.  

"As if you had any idea what my type is," Jay said.  "As if you even cared."

"I care about you screwing up the rest of your life.  Not for a girl like her, Jay."

"Shut up!  You don't know anything about KC."

"I know her type."  On one level, in that dark realm of fantasy that underscored every man's encounters with the opposite sex, Chase wished he had the opportunity to get to know KC better.  He hoped Jay hadn't noticed Chase's more visceral reaction to his girlfriend.  Girl?  Hell, KC exuded more sex appeal than women twice her age.  

"She's trouble," he said, his words echoing his thoughts.  "Where'd she come from?"

"She and her father moved here from Philly last month.  She got into some problems there."

"Figures.  I'm guessing that she doesn't exactly fit in around here either."

Jay was silent, got to his feet and began pacing.  Chase watched him.  The kid had always taken his growth spurts early, but now the gawky awkwardness of youth had faded.  He could see why a girl like KC would turn to his little brother as her champion.  And Jay, poor sap, was one of those kids driven to always do the right thing.  Just like their father, famous for his lost causes and crusades.

Chase was nothing like their father.  He wasn't patient, philosophical, easy tempered or brilliant.  He was just a guy doing a job, trying hard not to make the same mistakes twice.

"Cut her loose," he told his brother.

Jay whirled on him, and Chase braced himself for another fistfight.  Damn, the kid was stubborn.  Figured he'd take after Chase in that department. 

"Why did you come home?" Jay asked.  "Every time you do, something bad happens—" he stopped himself before he said more, but Chase caught the bitterness beneath the words.

He couldn't blame the kid.  After last year Christmas would never be the same, nothing would.

Chase remembered how excited he'd been coming home after spending fourteen months in Afghanistan.  He'd waited outside the Altoona train station, amazed the transport gods had actually gotten him home as promised, on time for the holiday.  He brought presents for everyone: an antique copy of the Koran for Dad, an embroidered scarf for Mom, and a Pashtun dagger for Jay.

He'd been so happy, more excited by Christmas than since he was a kid.  Right until the moment the State Police arrived to tell him that there had been an accident.  A fatal accident.

"I didn't come here to fight with you," he told Jay.  "But I won't stand by and watch you throw away your future."  

"I'm not, can't you see?  I'm trying so hard to do the right thing, help a friend in trouble.  I thought you'd be proud of me for stepping up like a man."  Jay's voice sounded raspy as if he were close to tears.

"Trouble?  Yeah, I'll bet.  Is she even in school?  I'm guessing she's a drop out.  How old is she, anyway?"

"She's older than she looks."

"I'm just hoping she's older than she
acts
."  But Jay was right, KC did seem older.  Physically, and, once you got past the body art and Hollywood hype fashion, mentally.  He remembered the way she had defended Jay, like a mother lion…Oh hell.  Why hadn't he seen it before? The girl was pregnant, that explained a lot.  Damn her, she was only using Jay.  "So KC's in trouble, and you're trying to do the right thing.  Are you even sure the baby's yours?"

 Jay jerked his head up as if Chase had hit him.  "Why do you always assume the worst about people?  Why can't you trust me to know what I'm doing?"

"Maybe because you're a kid who's getting ready to throw his whole life away!"  Chase rocked onto his feet, squared off against Jay.  "You're the smartest person I know, but damn it, Jay you're such a sap.  Just like Dad.  Always tilting at windmills.  Wasting his life away in this shithole of a town."

"As opposed to you?  Wasting your life away—where, Chase?  Doing what?  Or is the reason why you didn't call or write or anything was because you were back in jail?"

The look of disgust on Jay's face cut Chase to the quick.  He was half tempted to tell Jay the truth—anything to erase that expression and replace it with the adoring gaze of the little boy who used to follow Chase everywhere.  He opened his mouth, closed it again.  The safest thing for Jay was to keep living the lie.

Chase ground his jaws together.  It might be the safest thing, but it sure as hell wasn't the easiest.  

"I wasn't in jail.  I was working," he said, staring at the floor and shifting his feet.

"Working?  Where?"

Chase didn't meet his brother's gaze.  "For Bruno Gianotti.  For his moving company, driving his vans."

To his surprise, Jay straightened and the color drained from his face.  "You work for Mr. Gianotti?"

"Sure." Chase shrugged.  "He came to me when I got out.  Took pity on me 'cause of me and Nicky being friends, offered me a job.  You know Mr. Gianotti, nobody says no to him."

"Right," Jay echoed in a distant voice.  "Nobody says no to Mr. Gianotti."  He backed into the hallway.  "Well, good for you, I guess.  I'm still leaving tomorrow.  The house is yours after that." 

The slam of Jay's bedroom door rattled the windows.  Chase stared after his brother.  Teenagers—how did any of them survive?  

Why had Jay gotten so uptight when he'd mentioned working for Bruno?  Did he know what Bruno's business really was?  It was an open secret in a town where Bruno Gianotti controlled the cops, the town council, and the purse strings.

He slid into the recliner, his gaze fixed on the empty hallway.  Could Jay's leaving have something to do with Bruno?  Maybe he'd been wrong about Jay's girlfriend, KC?

The image of her face, the way she'd stood ready to protect Jay, her look of fierce determination flashed through his mind.  As did the memory of the very visceral response he'd had both times he laid eyes on her.  Even knowing what he did now, even seeing her kiss Jay, he couldn't stop imagining the brush of her lips against his, those full, lush lips, swollen and hot with desire.

He pounded his fist against his thigh.  What kind of pervert fantasized about his kid brother's girl?  A flush of shame spread over him. Jeezit, he had to get out of this racket, he was beginning to think like Bruno and his goons.

KC was using Jay, he was certain.  That girl was trouble.

Tough enough that Jay had to grow up early and fast, if KC was pregnant, there was no way Chase was going to let him take on the burdens of parenthood at such a young age.  Especially not when there was an excellent chance the baby wasn't even his.  

Chase hadn't been the best brother to Jay. He should have figured out a way to watch over him, take better care of him.  Now there was no telling if Chase would be around past the meeting with the Crusade tomorrow.  There was only tonight.  Chase had to make the best use of the little time he had left.  Do everything he could to stop Jay from ruining the rest of his life.

He grabbed his coat and went out the back way.  KC and her family were new in town—one stop at the Stop n Go to fill up with gas and catch up with Shannon behind the counter and he'd find out where she lived.  As well as everything else there was to know about her.

Curled up in her favorite overstuffed chair beside the TV, KC huddled with her laptop and tuned out Peter Billingsley's pleas for a Daisy Brand, Red-Ryder BB gun.  She'd spent most of the evening trying to get more information on Jay's troublesome big brother.  

And trying to erase the memory of Chase Westin's intense blue eyes.  KC rarely noticed eyes in men, not in the "window to the soul" sense anyway.  When she looked into a person's eyes it was to judge their veracity by watching for the muscular contractions that gave away even the most accomplished liars.  No romance there, just an undercover operative trying to stay alive.

Why couldn't she get Chase Westin out of her mind?  She wasn't in the market for any kind of entanglements.  She had a job to do here.  

Who was she kidding?  KC wasn't in the market for romance even when she was off the job.  Not anymore.  

True romance involved too much blood, sweat, and tears.  The image of Manny's casket being lowered into a dark hole in the ground filled her mind.  Especially tears.  And pain, don't forget the pain.

KC wanted love, wanted it all, but she wanted it for a lifetime—everything a man could give her.  More than stolen moments between assignments during an illicit affair they had to keep secret because of the rules.  Manny had been her training officer, her supervisor—the Bureau would have fired them both if anyone ever found out about their relationship.  

KC sighed, remembering her grandfather, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of her grandmother.  That was what she wanted: a love to last forever, the real deal.

She forced her attention back to the laptop and Chase Westin's military career.  Sure as hell wasn't going to get that kind of love from a disgraced former Marine, no matter how mesmerizing his eyes were.  Dishonorable discharge after being caught with a load of automatic weapons and almost killing the MP who stopped him.  What a way to end what was up to then a decent career with several commendations, including a silver star.  

Once upon a time, Chase Westin was a bonafide hero.  Where had things gone so wrong?  Eleven months ago, Westin sustained injuries that forced him to leave the rough and tumble life of Recon.  Spent ten weeks in a hospital, another month in rehab, then fought the medical board for the next two months, trying to get reinstated back into Recon.  The doctors had refused all his requests, recommending a medical discharge or permanent desk duty.

A slap in the face for a guy who'd pounded as many miles in the service of his country as Westin had.  But he was only twenty-eight, still had a lot of career options besides resorting to armed robbery, weapons trafficking and attempted murder.