My Brother's Keeper Read online

  unmade bed.

  “It’s before noon, man,” Micah mumbled as he ran his

  hand through his hair and fought back a yawn. “That’s

  always a bad time,” he informed them, refusing to be

  embarrassed by the state of his home or himself.

  “You’re the tennis pro at the club, are you not?” Walker

  asked him softly. “And you give some of their sailing lessons as well, is that right?”

  “It’s my day off,” Micah answered with a frown.

  “You don’t seem surprised to see us,” the man observed

  with a narrowing of his green eyes.

  “The club’s a tight place. Word’s gotten around about

  your investigation,” Micah responded with a narrowing of his own green eyes. “You’re causing a lot of undue grief, you

  know that?”

  “Yeah, Cain and Abel are breaking our hearts,” Walker

  muttered with a roll of his eyes. He looked around the one-

  room apartment with what Micah thought was undue

  interest. “Word is, you and the younger Bainbridge are very 68

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  close,” the man practically cooed with a condescending

  smirk as he looked back at Micah.

  “His last name is Satterwight,” Micah responded softly.

  He ignored the rest of what the detective was implying.

  He had been called every name under the sun for his sexual

  preferences and been given every sort of leer, knowing smirk, and disdainful grimace possible. Hell, he’d even tolerated the occasional physical bullying. This prick of a police detective was not going to make him hang his head in shame.

  Especially not where Addison was concerned.

  “Did Reggie Bainbridge know about you and his son?”

  Morgan asked in a much more neutral tone.

  Micah looked at the man, momentarily nonplussed by

  the question. “I don’t know.” He shrugged.

  “Word is, ol’ Reg didn’t like Addison’s taste in partners,”

  Walker offered.

  “What of it?” Micah asked in annoyance. “Lots of dads

  don’t like it when their sons like dick,” he responded acidly.

  Walker snorted in amusement.

  “My old man certainly didn’t. That’s why he knocked me

  around until I got bigger than he was,” Micah spat at him.

  Walker merely nodded his agreement as he turned and

  began to walk slowly around the apartment. Micah watched

  him warily, wondering again where Addison had gone. He

  hoped the man had taken what was left of the cocaine with

  him, at least. If Micah was going to get busted for

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  possession, he at least wanted the drugs to be his when it happened.

  “We’ve spoken to some of Mr. Satterwight’s previous…

  partners,” Morgan told Micah gently with an unreadable

  glance at Walker.

  “Look dude, whatever you tell me about Addison’s past

  is not going to shock me all that much,” Micah told the man in agitation. “I know he’s gotten around,” he said distractedly as he watched Walker.

  He didn’t like the man wandering unchecked through

  his place. He stopped at the end of Micah’s bed and looked

  down at the rumpled sheets thoughtfully. Micah shifted

  uncomfortably and tore his eyes away from the wandering

  detective to look back at his partner.

  “You may be surprised to hear that Addison’s father

  made visits to some of those partners,” Morgan continued,

  undeterred.

  Micah blinked at him in surprise. He could only imagine

  the terror it would cause someone Addison was fucking, to

  open his door to find Reggie Bainbridge standing there. The man had been scary even when he was smiling.

  Micah didn’t comment. He felt as if they were trying to

  corner him, and he told himself to start giving simple yes

  and no answers. The less he said, the less chance he could

  hurt Addison. He’d been right; the cops were looking at him.

  What he apparently hadn’t been right about was the motive.

  Past lovers didn’t have anything to do with inheritance.

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  “Some of them claim Reggie Bainbridge threatened them

  or offered to pay them off if they would leave his son alone,”

  the detective continued neutrally.

  Micah huffed and crossed his arms over his bare chest.

  The hard muscles of his tanned arms jumped as he tensed.

  “That sounds like him. And?” he asked in irritation.

  “Did Reginald Bainbridge come to you at any point in

  your relationship with Addison?” Walker asked from the

  other side of the room.

  “No,” Micah answered immediately through gritted

  teeth.

  “You sure about that, Mr. Parrish?” Morgan asked

  softly. “Life could get very interesting if you’re lying to us.”

  “I think you’d better leave. Now,” Micah said to him

  coldly as he stepped aside, held his hand out, and gestured to the door.

  “One more question, if you will,” Walker murmured as

  he strolled back toward them nonchalantly.

  Micah bit the inside of his cheek to make sure he didn’t

  mouth off to the man.

  Walker inclined his head and looked Micah over with

  obvious disdain. “Does Satterwight pay you to use you like

  he does?” he asked curiously.

  Micah’s jaw clenched, but he refused to rise to the bait.

  “We take turns,” he finally said to the man with a defiant

  sneer.

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  Walker grinned and chuckled darkly as he brushed past

  Micah and headed for the door.

  ADDISON stood at the courtesy desk, dressed impeccably—

  as he always was during daylight hours—and looking

  perfectly sober and normal. Brayden didn’t know how he

  managed to party all night long and still look like he did the next day. There were never any dark circles under his eyes, never any hard lines around his mouth, never even any

  bloodshot eyes.

  Brayden could take Nyquil and wake up twelve hours

  later looking like he’d just been steamrollered.

  He stalked up to Addison and leaned over the desk to

  glare at him as Addison wrote in a logbook.

  Addison glanced up when he sensed that someone was

  standing in front of him. He did a double-take and jumped

  slightly when he found Brayden’s face so close to his.

  “What?” he exclaimed in surprise. “Jesus,” he huffed as

  he looked around and rolled his eyes. “Christ, man. What,

  you forgot to turn off the stealth mode?” he grumbled.

  The hostess who stood beside him was covering her

  mouth and trying not to giggle or look at them.

  “Where have you been?” Brayden demanded angrily.

  “Brayden, it’s eight o’clock in the morning,” Addison

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  in his logbook. His voice was low and rough, as if he might have a cold coming on or a sore throat.

  Brayden forced himself to not think about what his kid

  brother might have done to his throat to make it that way.

  Knowing Addison like he did,
the possibilities were literally endless.

  “Technically,” Addison continued with a wave of his

  hand, “I won’t be here for another hour, okay? Go give

  someone else an ulcer ’til then,” he suggested dismissively.

  “Julie,” Brayden snapped at the hostess.

  The girl looked up at him with wide eyes and then

  nodded before scurrying away and leaving them alone to

  fight.

  Addison watched her go with a frown and looked back at

  Brayden in consternation. He reached under the counter and

  extracted a muffin he had apparently placed there earlier—

  his breakfast, being saved for later. He handed it to Brayden with a raised eyebrow. “Bran?” he offered sarcastically.

  “The cops have been all over the fucking place,” Brayden

  snarled without responding to the proffered muffin. “I’m

  closing the club for the week,” he declared as Addison’s eyes widened in alarm. “We’ll have some sort of refurbishing work done,” Brayden went on with a wave of his hand at the foyer around them, glancing over his shoulder with a slightly wild look in his normally calm eyes.

  “Jesus, Brayden,” Addison murmured in concern as he

  seemingly looked at his brother in a new light. “You’re

  panicking,” he observed in amused shock.

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  “Yes!” Brayden hissed unashamedly as he glanced

  around them nervously then lowered his head to glare at

  Addison.

  “Well, stop,” Addison urged softly. “You’re freaking me

  out, man,” he muttered as he closed the logbook and looked

  over Brayden’s shoulder at the front entrance. Brayden

  turned to look at the front door to see Micah Parrish

  standing there and motioning for Addison to come unlock

  the door. The club wouldn’t open for nearly another hour.

  “Ugh,” Brayden huffed as Addison went to let the man

  in. He rested his forehead against the cool wood of the front desk in a rare display of frustration and listened to them

  greet each other. He was careful not to move his forehead

  from the greeter’s desk or indicate that he could hear. It

  wasn’t exactly the lovey-dovey greeting he had expected.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” Micah hissed as soon

  as the doors opened. He stepped inside and pulled them

  closed again with a loud clang.

  Brayden straightened up and turned to look at them

  with a frown.

  “What?” Addison responded in confusion. He was

  looking at Micah critically and backing away from him

  slightly, like a man in a museum, backing away from a large painting in order to get the entire picture. “You look like hell,” he observed as he looked Micah up and down.

  Micah returned the look in exasperation.

  “What?” Addison asked again, his voice entirely

  innocent.

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  “Where the hell did you disappear off to?” Micah asked

  in agitation.

  “I have the early shift today. I had to go home and get

  clothes that didn’t smell like smoke,” Addison explained. “I left a note,” he added defensively as he reached out and

  brushed at Micah’s shoulder.

  Micah watched his hands as Addison brushed and

  tugged at his shirt, straightening it out, and then he pulled at his polo and brushed at the front of it like it might have been habit for Addison to help him spiff up. He seemed to

  realize what he was doing and he slapped Addison’s hands

  away with a frustrated growl.

  Brayden was hard-pressed not to laugh at them.

  “The cops were at my place this morning,” Micah told

  Addison in a quiet voice that still managed to carry to

  Brayden in the empty foyer of the club.

  “What?” Addison responded angrily, his innocent

  teasing suddenly forgotten. “Why? What did they want?”

  “They were asking about you and your dad and….”

  Micah answered in a worried voice, trailing off with a shake of his head.

  “Me and my dad and what?” Addison demanded. “The

  money?” he guessed heatedly. “They want to know how

  much I inherited?”

  “No,” Micah answered regretfully. “They were asking

  about your… past partners,” he said with obvious distaste.

  “Wanted to know how your dad felt about it all.”

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  “Fuck,” Addison spat.

  Brayden sighed heavily. So that was the angle the

  investigators were taking. He had so hoped they would go

  the money route. It would have been easier to deal with.

  “What did you tell them?” he demanded of Micah.

  Micah and Addison both turned to stare at him as if

  they had forgotten he was there. Micah glanced at Addison

  uneasily and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for Addison’s permission to respond.

  Addison nodded at him and looked away, rubbing his

  mouth with his fingertips.

  “Come to my office,” Brayden growled at them both.

  “The fucking cops are working together on this; we may as

  well be too,” he snarled as he turned and headed for the door to one of the various hidden stairwells of the club.

  The winding stairwell led directly to Brayden’s office.

  The entrance was hidden in the paneling of the foyer

  downstairs, and the exit was hidden behind a section of the hexagonal bookshelves in the office wall. It had been added to the original plan of the club by Brayden and Addison’s

  great-grandfather during construction of the building, but he had never actually put it into use. Not that anyone knew of, anyway. It had remained forgotten and unused ever since

  the club was built, until Brayden and Addison had found it

  on one of their midnight forays into the club as children.

  Brayden stalked around the office as Addison and Micah

  slipped through the door behind him. It was obvious from

  Micah’s expression that he hadn’t even suspected the

  stairwell was there. Brayden knew rumors swirled through

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  the staff about the hidden passages and rooms in the club,

  but obviously none of the rumors were taken at face value by many of them.

  “Tell me everything,” Brayden demanded of the two men

  as soon as he was certain they couldn’t be overheard. He

  had seen that the duct problem was fixed days ago.

  “Tell you what?” Addison asked with a huff. “There’s

  nothing to tell, Brayden!”

  “Were you followed last night?” Brayden asked

  knowingly. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing… out of the ordinary,” Addison muttered with

  a glance at Micah. “And I don’t know if we were followed,” he spat sarcastically. “I missed How to Spot a Tail day when I was at Camp Superspy.”

  Brayden shook his head angrily, but he couldn’t manage

  to respond with anything other than a spitting sound.

  “Sonny, they were asking about your dad and how he

  felt about your… preferences, was how they put it,” Micah

  murmured as he began to pace. “They wanted to know about

  him and how he’d treated you, how he’d treated your past

  lovers, and they asked if he’d ever thr
eatened me to stay

  away from you,” he supplied worriedly. “It sounded like they were looking for motive.”

  “They’ve already got motive!” Addison shouted in

  agitation as Brayden stared at Micah. “They’ve got about

  twenty million motives!” Addison continued, oblivious to both Micah’s discomfort and Brayden’s annoyance.

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  “They have to know that inheritance wouldn’t stand up

  in court,” Brayden argued quietly as he found his calm once more and began trying to think rationally. “We both have

  money and Father was never stingy in that respect. Your

  boy’s right; they’re probably looking for something more

  concrete.”

  “My boy?” Addison echoed incredulously, momentarily

  sidetracked as he looked at Brayden oddly.

  Brayden shrugged helplessly and gestured at Micah.

  “Look, whatever,” Micah interjected with a wave of his

  hand. “The point is, they’re really digging, Sonny. You’ve got to start taking this more seriously,” he insisted.

  “I’m calling John,” Brayden announced with a shake of

  his head. He headed for the desk and the telephone.

  “You’re calling our lawyer?” Addison asked with a sneer.

  “Yeah, Brayden, that won’t just scream ‘we killed our daddy’

  to the cops. We need a better plan than what screaming ‘I

  want my lawyer’ entails.”

  “Fuck you,” Brayden responded matter-of-factly as he

  picked up the phone and dialed. “I’m calling John,” he

  repeated as the phone rang at the other end.

  Addison was at his side in a heartbeat. He placed his

  finger on the receiver gently and looked up at Brayden

  expressionlessly. Brayden turned on him in outrage.

  Addison shook his head and held Brayden’s gaze

  unerringly. “Don’t panic,” his younger brother whispered to him seriously.

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  Brayden stopped short and simply stared at him.

  “Trust me,” Addison urged in the same soft, collected

  whisper.

  Brayden met his eyes for a brief moment of indecision

  before nodding and slowly setting the phone back in its

  cradle.

  “MR. Grace?” Detective Ray Morgan called as he and Sam