Audition (North Security 4)

I only turn my head to prove myself right. And then my heart tumbles out of my chest and falls with a muffled thud to the ground. The swing sticks to my legs, molten rubber. I tear myself away from it in a flash of pain. My bare feet land in the tall, scratchy grass. Three hard blinks and he’s still there. “Caleb.”

He stands in the center of the yard.

Twenty feet from here, in the kitchen, he protected me from our father at the height of his anger and drunkenness. In this light, in this place, it’s shocking how much Caleb looks like him. My stomach does a sick turn.

My brother has become the man he fought and killed as a child. How could I have missed it? My heartbeat sounds a warning. It’s not relief I feel after all. It’s fear. I have always known that Caleb was dangerous in the abstract.

Now it couldn’t be more real.

I want to back away. The urge makes my feet ache, but I can’t show him any weakness. I know it at the most base level. “I thought you were in trouble,” I blurt out, saying anything to break the silence. “Josh told me—” Shit. “I—”

Caleb shifts his weight, making himself look bigger. He’s still several feet away, but he manages to loom over me. He looks so much like our father that I feel faint. “You have a crush on him?” he growls, mouth twisting.

I suppress the urge to run. “No. Of course not.” I shake my head a little, like this is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. Well, that part’s true enough. What I feel for Josh can’t be described using a word like crush. It’s more like an obsession.

“That fucker rolled over on me. Almost.” He looks up at the stars. There’s no moon to illuminate his face tonight, only the ambient light from the city around us. “He ratted out my shipment. Cost me a lot of money, but I’m not rotting in a jail cell.” Caleb spits into the grass. “I suppose that’s reason enough for me not to kill him.”

If my brother knew how Josh had touched me, he would want to kill him. And he’d do it. That much I know. Caleb isn’t much for holding back.

“Fucker,” Caleb says. “How are you doing? Anybody mess with you while I was gone?”

Nobody did, but I can’t gather the words to speak. I’m not rotting in a jail cell. Caleb is standing here, in the backyard of Mamere’s house. Which means that Josh did what I asked, even though he said he wouldn’t. My heart squeezes.

“No,” I manage. “Nobody messed with me.”

But someone did save my brother. The gratitude that flows from my broken heart is potent enough to drown me. It’s laced with a regret so strong it brings tears to my eyes. Was it wrong to ask Josh to save him?

Should I have wanted him to be spared?

I don’t know whether my loyalty lies with my father or with Caleb—or whether they’re even that different, in the end. I don’t know whether I owe more to my brother or to a stranger with green eyes. What does loyalty mean in a world of betrayal?

“Good.” Caleb checks his watch. “I’ve got business. You keep your eyes open.” He disappears around the side of the house before I have a chance to answer. My murderous traitor of a brother. He’s safe now—because of me.

I dig my knuckles into my chest hard enough to leave a mark. What have I done? What have I do

ne? The look on Josh’s face when I begged for Caleb’s life told me that the true scope of his crimes was unforgivable.

Beyond redemption.

If my brother is beyond redemption, then maybe I am, too.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Martha Graham created and choreographed one of her most famous works, Heretic, in one night. One of her students remembered the creation this way: “It was a pleading figure against a hostile group—terse, brief, stark; I think no other dance quite represented her personal statement with such power.”

Josh, present time

There are two faces on my computer monitor. Liam is older than me, only by a year. He has green eyes, exactly like our father. Elijah is three years younger than me, but the shadows haunting his dark green eyes make him look wiser than both of the other North brothers. Elijah’s filling us in on his latest mission in Colombia, where an extraction has gone smoothly—baring a few fatalities from the cartel.

“Good work,” Liam says, his expression stoic. “The general has been on my ass about this Russia deal, and we need you back in the mix.”

Liam founded the company on his network in the security business and ironclad reputation. He’s the one in charge of managing the CEOs, the military brass, the celebutantes who hire the company. I’m the operations man. I keep tabs on which team goes where. I’m in charge of hiring and training. At least I was… until two weeks ago, when I walked off our base in the Hill Country of Texas to fly to Louisiana.

“Copy that,” Elijah says, ignoring the fact that he hasn’t had a day off in about three years running. He prefers action, the more dangerous the better. He’s basically been on a suicide mission since he left the army. His green eyes meet mine. “Unless you need any help with that dancer.”

Liam doesn’t move a muscle, but I feel his curiosity in the pixels. I never told my brothers about my history with Bethany, but they aren’t fucking stupid. They know I’ve kept a house in New Orleans. Not hard to speculate it’s because of a woman.

“It’s under control,” I say, my voice light.