“How are things going with the investigation?” Chayton asked his brother. They sat at a small table in Air Dog, just the two of them. It hadn’t opened for the day yet. Chayton nursed a beer, shooting darts from the chair and missing every shot.
Garret lifted his head to watch another dart bounce off the board. Chayton was obviously angry at Garret’s behavior last night. After the game of pool, he’d danced with Reagan. When her body had been up against his like that, the last thing on his mind was being friends. Being an investigator. Being a *** federal agent trained to defeat the worst of the bad guys but unable to do so.
“Not well.” He lowered his gaze, closing his eyes to avoid the pounding in his head.
“Yeah, that’s obvious.”
“You think this is easy?” Garret met his brother’s glare. It’d taken every last ounce of self-control he possessed to keep his hands off Reagan last night, which is why he resorted to whiskey and pretense.
“If you’d stop treating her like she has a crush on you and doesn’t even know it, it may go a little easier.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, you dance one dance with her, then flirt with every other woman in the room. As if that will keep her at arm’s length. You don’t think she noticed? You think she’s pining over you? You treat her like she’s the one who wants you when it’s written all over your face the opposite is true.”
“Whatever.”
Chayton rose to snatch the darts from the floor, returned to his seat, and threw again. “She’s Ray’s niece, and you’ll hurt her.”
Garret snickered. “I don’t think I could hurt her. She’s pretty headstrong, if you didn’t notice.”
“That doesn’t mean she can’t be hurt. Ray was like family, that makes her family. Have a little respect.”
“Okay, well I can’t tell her what I’m doing, now can I?”
Chayton shrugged. “I couldn’t say, seeing as how I don’t know what you’re doing. Playing some stupid game is all I see.”
Garret stole a dart from Chayton’s stash. He flung it with all the force he’d like to fling at his current situation. Even hung-over, he’d spent the day working. Looking into Reagan’s past and making phone calls. He would have liked to have spent the day skiing and snowboarding and any other outdoor activity that didn’t involve murder or jewels or unsuspecting women.
The dart hit the bull’s-eye. He rested his hands behind his head, tilted the chair on its hind legs, and looked Chayton square in the eye. “I’m watching out for her or watching her, I don’t know yet. I don’t know if she’s still involved with Kyle or if she’s running from him. It’s up to me to find out. I have a job to do, and I’m doing it.”
Chayton returned his glare, a battle the two were familiar with and one neither of them would lose. Garret knew how his brother felt about his vocation. He blamed the entire judicial system for their father’s death.
“Looks to me like you’re not doing your job,” Chayton said, interrupting his pity train. “Or at least, you’re doing a piss-poor job.”
Fear, remorse, and anguish thrashed through Garret in a surge of heat and agitation. His heartbeat quickened, his breathing short and scattered as if struggling to find a way out of a stuffy building. Dust. He tasted dust and metal and gunpowder, recalling memories he’d rather forget.
Garret jumped up, the chair crashing to the floor. Chayton didn’t flinch, only sipped from the bottle he carelessly kept between two fingers. “What would you have me do?” Garret asked. “I did a background check on her and Naomi.”
“Good for you. What did you learn?”
“Naomi is from California.”
“She told me that much.”
“She’s a fashion designer.”
“Know that, too. And I’m not even getting paid to find out these things. Why don’t you leave the investigation to me?”