Last shot

Chapter 36

Ortiz got off a solid blow, and Kenny Shamrock's nose exploded in red mist. Chase whooped and raised the volume on the plasma as the Ultimate Fighting Championship surged into the fifth round. He sat in the embrace of a soft leather couch in the sunken TV pit, picking absentmindedly at his Gibson-natural finish, spruce top, mahogany sides, rosewood fingerboard, nickel frets, and abalone inlays. A bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue pinned down a magazine on the coffee table on which he propped his feet. His eyes and nostrils had gone pink around the rims, pronounced flares of color against his fair skin.

Dolan paced frenetically behind him in the game room proper, circling the pool table and knocking balls off one another. The spacious area, a converted drawing room on the second floor of the south wing, had been redone in the style of an architectural loft. Composed of a bar, a panel kitchen, a game area, and the conversation pit-cum-lounge, the sleek room joined the brothers' childhood bedroom suites.

Dean had waited until late in life to have children, and Dolan had been the recipient of four years of undivided domestic attention before Dean's long-suffering wife, Mary, had died giving birth to a second son. In a rare touch of sentimentality, Dean gave the baby her maiden name, Chaisson.

With relief Dean had recognized his second son's intensity and charisma and sought to cultivate them further. Chase was strong-willed, daring, at ease in his own body. Slamming doors. Skin lifted at the knuckles. Girls climbing through his window. Over the years Dean managed to keep Chase on course without reining him in. Riding the momentum of a strategically timed Kagan-endowed Business Department chair, Chase had entered USC. In the fall semester of his sophomore year, he'd switched his major from sociology to finance. Dean had overseen the transition, supplying a team of tutors, including a former adviser to the state treasury. Within months, Chase had hit his stride, as Dean always claimed he would. There'd been no slowing him since.

Though tonight was a hell of a shock for them all. After the grenade on the front walk had designated Ted Sands as proxy target, Dean had insisted-with little resistance-that Chase and Dolan move back behind the gates. Concentrating resources had been a mantra of the old man's since back when Beacon was still in the picture.

A plexi-coated bulletproof window (all the better to ease Dean's paranoia) looked out over the back pool. Dolan had undone its various locks and cracked it a few inches, hoping the breeze would evaporate his panic sweat. Honeysuckle had worked its way up the lattice outside, framing the window, the bobbing white flowers scenting the cool inrush of air.

"Did you know Ted Sands?" Dolan asked.

Chase strummed the first four notes of the Fifth with bored irony. "I remember him, sure. Nice guy. Good head on his shoulders." Chase finally turned around. "Oh, come on, that was funny." He whipped a coaster at Dolan, narrowly missing. "Have a drink or something. Christ. It's not good to stress this late at night, D. Especially after dinner. All you're doing is stewing in unused fatty acids."

"Not my predominant concern at the moment."

"Right. Your health pales as a priority next to the boogeyman." Chase feinted a few jabs, leaning with the defending champ though he'd watched the recorded fight at least ten times and knew that Ortiz would finish him with an armlock in the next round. "Listen. The Dean's having Perce beef up security. Jameson does it again, he'll get his nuts shot off." Abruptly, Chase turned off the TV and rose.

"Where you going?"

Chase brushed past him, sliding the window open farther and swinging a leg over the sill. "Girl." He waited for the patrolling guard to disappear around the corner below.

"Percy said-"

"Yeah, but Percy doesn't put out." Chase got a toehold in the sturdy lattice, then looked up and grinned. "Old times, huh?" His flexed arm pulled out of view, leaving Dolan to watch the honeysuckle buds shaking with his brother's continued momentum.