Forgotten Sins

Chapter 16

She drew the gun, steadying her feet on the ugly carpet. Should she point at one of them or between them? Between them.

The two men on the couch didn’t flinch. Or move. The brown-haired one who’d stood against the far wall at the bar raised an eyebrow. “Did you figure she had a gun?” He cocked his head to the side, twisting his lip as if in deep thought.

“Nope.” The man with black hair stretched out long legs. “She tossed her purse on the bed.”

Familiar. There was something so familiar about these two. She squinted her eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

The first man scratched his head, glancing at the other. “Well?”

With a short nod, the second man spoke. “I’m Matt and this is Nathan.” He tilted his head. “Shane’s brothers.”

Shane’s brothers. Shock washed through her, and she plastered on her foster care face. “Well. That explains the eye color.” Gray. Pure gray, just like Shane’s. “How did you find me?”

“We followed you to the bar from your work, and from the bar to here,” Matt said, his big body relaxing into the couch.

“No you didn’t. I checked behind me.”

He smiled. “I know. You did a good job, too. Almost lost us on Pine Street.”

Almost wasn’t good enough. No way could she take these two. They stretched well over six feet, packed hard, and thrummed with the same preternatural stillness as did Shane. They were as big as Shane. Probably just as dangerous. “So why follow me? Why not get your brother out of jail?”

“We will. Shane is safe right now. You’re not,” Nathan said, rubbing his chin.

She shifted her aim to him. “Is that a threat?”

Confusion wrinkled his nose. “Um, no. I’d never threaten someone so soft. Did it sound like a threat?” He lifted an eyebrow at his brother.

Matt shook his head. “I didn’t think so. I figured it for a statement of fact.”

Her shoulders straightened. “Listen, Laurel and Hardy. Knock it off. Aren’t you at least a little concerned I’ll shoot you?”

A grin tipped Matt’s lips. “Honey, you have the safety on.”

Goddamn it. Her thumb clicked the lever loose. “Not now, I don’t.”

His smile widened. “Shane was right. She is something.”

Pleasure rose unbidden. He’d talked about her to his brothers? In a good way? Then irritation spiraled through. “He never mentioned you. Not a single word.”

Nathan’s gray eyes softened. “He couldn’t, Josie. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust any of you.” Sad, but true. Not even Shane. Who were these people?

“Smart girl,” Matt said. “So, ah, do you mind telling us what the charges are against Shane? I know there was a BOLO out on him for kidnapping you, but the police canceled it earlier today.”

She ground her teeth. “I am pointing a gun at you.” How stupid were these guys? “Get out.” Home. She’d back her bags and go back home. If Shane stayed the hell away, she was safe. To get on with her life. Her long, boring, lonely life.

“Actually, you’re pointing the weapon at Nathan,” Matt said. “He’s been shot before. Go ahead.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Nathan muttered.

Their banter bordered on humorous, but a thick tension blanketed the room. Danger prickled through the air.

“Would you please leave?” Why was she asking them? She held the gun.

Matt’s eyes softened. “No. Shane apparently wants you safe. That means we keep you safe.”

“For how long? Until he leaves me again?” Her voice cracked.

“Ah, Josie.” Matt leaned forward, his gaze serious. “He had no choice. Jory was killed, and we had to move. Leaving you was the only way to keep you safe and do what he needed to do.”

Fire whipped through her. “Baloney. Sorry, Matt. The old ‘I hurt you to protect you’ line doesn’t work on me.” She shifted her aim to him. “How did Jory die?” The question held risk and she knew it.

They both stiffened. Already hard, their faces hardened even more. Matt held her gaze while Nathan dropped his to the floor. Pain thickened the air.

Matt cleared his throat. “We need to get Shane out. Will you help us or not?”

Okay. So they shared information as freely as Shane did. Not at all. “If I help you, you’ll leave? All of you?”

Matt winced. “Nate and I will leave. You’re on your own with Shane.”

“Shane will leave,” Nathan said.

Matt cut him a glance, “Nate—”

“Shane will leave.” Nathan’s jaw snapped shut. “I have one brother in the grave, and everyone close to us dies. Shane will leave. He’ll move on if I have to beat him senseless to do it.” He exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry, Josie. But you should cut your losses and move on. There’s no future with any of us.”

She’d already figured that out, but hearing the words delivered so coldly slid ice down her spine. Josie lowered the gun. Her hand ached, but she kept a hold of the weapon anyway. “How many brothers are there?”

Matt took her measure. “Four.”

Surprise flashed across Nathan’s face. Apparently Matt wasn’t usually so forthcoming. Nathan cleared his throat. “Four counting Jory.”

Three brothers still lived. A real family. “Shane might not remember you.”

The sofa wobbled when Matt pushed his bulk off. “I know. We have his medical records.” He stretched his neck. “Why was Shane arrested?”

She didn’t bother to ask how he’d gotten his hands on Shane’s medical records. “I went to stay with a friend, and two men tried to break into the house. Shane stopped them and knocked out my friend to, ah, take me.”

Nathan stretched to his feet. “Tom Marsh?”

These guys could obtain information now, couldn’t they? “Yes. Tom had a gun pointed at Shane, so Shane defended himself. Now Tom has pressed charges.”

Nathan grinned. “Listen to you defending your man.”

“It’s the truth.” She wrinkled her nose at him. So familiar. Must be the resemblance to Shane. Her man. Temporarily at least.

“So. Do I flash my badge?” Nathan yanked a wallet out of his back pocket to flip open the top.

Was that an FBI badge?

“No.” Matt reached into a case sitting next to the couch that had been hidden by his long legs. He drew out a wallet, which he tossed to his brother. “You’re Nathan Jones, attorney at law. Congrats.”

Josie cleared her throat. “The FBI badge would work better. He could take Shane into federal custody.”

Nathan eyed her. “I like how you think… and you really do look like an angel.”

She stiffened. The nickname. Shane had discussed her with his brother. What had he said? “Thanks.”

Matt shook his head. “The badge is authentic. I’d rather not have the connection between Nathan and Shane on the record. Not yet, anyway.”

“Why not?” Her hand cramped around the gun. She should put the weapon in her purse, but that seemed unwise. Just in case.

Matt shrugged. Standing, he seemed even taller than Shane, who stood to six foot three.

She faced Nathan. “You’re really in the FBI?”

“No.” Nathan grabbed a California driver’s license out of the wallet and studied the plastic.

“I don’t understand. Why do you have so many fake credentials?” Unease began to make her head pound. Who were these guys?

Nathan yanked a large handgun from the back of his waistband and tossed the weapon to Matt. “I shouldn’t be armed.”

Matt placed it on the scarred table holding the rickety television. “We can’t really explain. Shane trusts you, so we’re letting you know this much. But the less you know, the safer Shane is.” He turned to Nathan. “Good luck.”

Nathan nodded. “I brought a suit—it’s in the car.” With a wink at Josie, he dodged out the door.

Silence. Alone with Matt, Josie turned to take him in. “So, you’re Mattie.”

He crossed his arms over a broad chest. “That’s me.”

“Does Shane love me, or what?”

The smell of the interrogation room set neurons firing in Shane’s brain. Antiseptic. Fear. Blood. He rested his elbows on the hard metal of the bolted-down table, his hands handcuffed before him. In less than a minute, he could have them off.

The dingy green walls closed in on him, and he again counted the rate of buzzing from the fluorescent light above him. Two cameras were hidden in the ceiling, also emitting a low frequency.

Memories.

A room like this. A large man, buzz cut, dead eyes. Telling him if he lost again, he’d go to the other camp. Disappear like those other kids.

A training field. Hard packed and dusty. Boys, his age, fighting hand to hand. With knives.

Barracks. Beds for growing boys. His brother Matt teaching him how to block a side attack.

The door banged open, ripping Shane back to the present. Malloy stepped inside, followed by another man wearing a navy blue suit and bold power tie.

Malloy tilted his head. “Your lawyer is here, Major Dean.”

Shane lifted an eyebrow, keeping his face blank. His stomach clenched hard. Memories shot like spikes of glass through his brain. His brother wasn’t a lawyer. But his brother was there.

His brother brushed past the detective, taking a seat next to Shane. “Whatever my client said without counsel is irrelevant.”

Malloy snorted, chomping his gum. He reached down and unlocked the cuffs, twirling them in the air. “No worries, counselor. Your client hasn’t uttered one peep since we brought him in three hours ago.” The door clanged shut as he stomped out.

Shane turned toward the man. The past slammed hard into his gut. His brother. Breathing hurt suddenly. “Nathan.”

Nathan nodded. “Yes. Nathan Jones, your attorney.” He peered closer. “Major Dean, how’s the head?”

Memories rippled through Shane’s brain—so many, so fast. Triggered by his brother. He swayed. “Great.” Nathan teaching him to pick a lock. Times they’d spent together growing up, the time he helped Nathan in a knife fight. Blood spraying. For one second Shane wondered if he could trust Nathan. Instinct and memories comingled into a desperate yes. His brothers were the only people he could trust.“Memories filtering in fast.”

Nathan’s eyes lightened. “Good. Good to know.” He eyed the ceiling. “So. I checked at the desk, and you haven’t been formally processed yet.”

Shane nodded. That was good considering they’d have to steal his prints back if he had been. His skull pounded as the dam holding his life back released. “I assume it’s a matter of time?”

“No.” Nathan flipped open a small smartphone to read the screen. “My firm is in touch with the prosecuting attorney’s office. They don’t have a case, and you should be let go soon.”

“Think so?”

Nathan shut the phone. “Well, you did save Mr. Marsh and Mrs. Dean from two attackers. You were defending your spouse when you took the gun from Mr. Marsh and were forced to render him unconscious. Temporarily, of course.”

“Of course.” Flashbacks. Nathan had always been able to spin the bullshit with the best of them. Warmth settled beneath Shane’s rib cage that he remembered his brother. His life was coming back. “Where’s my wife?”

Nathan pushed back from the table, his hands tapping the arm of the chair. “I’m sorry. I have no knowledge of your wife.”

Shane counted the taps. Morse code. Josie was safe with Matt.

Matt?

Yeah, Matt. His oldest brother, the one who’d taught him to fight. Shane’s breath whooshed out, and he blinked against light-headedness. Tears tried to prick the backs of his eyes. He remembered. He wasn’t alone.

So he cleared his throat, trying to clear his head. “Yeah, well, I figure she’s about done with me. After this arrest and all.” He relaxed his shoulders and gave a small shrug. The woman had better not even think of being done with him. She was his life, and no way was he letting her go again.

Nathan narrowed his eyes, stopping his tapping. “Yes, well, that probably would be best. Considering the danger you’ve put her in.”

If Shane had a “screw you” smile, he gave it to his brother. “Speaking of such, any clue why danger is following me?”

“No, sorry.” Nathan had a pretty decent “screw you” smile as well. “Of course, I’m just your lawyer. You don’t tell me everything.” The door opened, and he cleared his throat, straightening when a tall woman in a sexy red cocktail dress clicked stilettos across the floor.

She sat across from them. “Gentlemen.” Her black hair had been swept away from pale skin smattered with freckles. “I’m Cynthia Miller, the prosecuting attorney. The chief of police dragged me out of one hell of a party.”

Nathan smoothed down his silk tie. “Nathan Jones here for Major Dean. I do apologize, Ms. Miller. Our client here, well, he should be let go. Or charged.” The smile Nathan flashed was all teeth and dare.

Malloy lumbered in, dropping his bulk into a chair next to the prosecutor. “I have a victim willing to press charges.”

Nathan tsked his tongue. “You have a spurned lover who was pissed-off my client saved the girl while Marsh ended up on his ass.” He cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, ma’am.”

Green eyes flashed. “I know what an ‘ass’ is, Mr. Jones.” Her tone made it perfectly clear she considered him one. She cleared her throat. “I assume the woman is willing to testify?”

Nathan sat forward. “She’s willing to testify Tom pulled a gun on Shane, who just defended himself. Then she went willingly with him.”

Cynthia narrowed her gaze on Shane. “Major?”

He cleared his throat. “The two men I took out meant harm. I didn’t kill them and merely trussed them up for the police.” He pinned Malloy with a hard glare. “Marsh pulled out a gun. Josie was too close to the barrel; I thought she might get hurt. I disarmed him, he struggled, and I knocked him out for a brief time. No damage, not even a bruise.”

Cynthia sighed. “There’s no case here, Detective.” She stood and glanced at an antique watch around a rather delicate wrist. “Let him go.”

“But—” Malloy pushed back from the table, his chair scraping across the hard concrete.

“But nothing.” She opened the door. “You want to take a decorated marine to trial for saving his wife from two attackers and a spurned boyfriend with a gun. If something else comes up, charge him. Right now, there’s nothing here to take to trial. Let him go.”

Malloy stood, his gaze hard on Shane. “Looks like you lucked out again, Dean.” He tapped files against his hand. “Leave town. For once, be a decent guy and let that little girl go. She’s better off without you.” His jaw hardened.

Shane straightened his shoulders and stood. “I’m never letting her go, Malloy.” He pivoted and followed his brother from the room.