Falling for the Brother

“Of course not.” Bruce leaned back, his ankle over his knee. “It’s the timing. Based on the timing you described, he must have arrived just after I left. And if he had some bone to pick with Gram, which would be indicated by the broken arm and the bruises on her face that you told me about, he’d have waited until he knew she was alone. He’s not dumb enough to mess with me.”

Bruce was a good cop, too. His theory had merit.

“You have the feeling he’d mess with anyone?” he asked. He was after a character assessment. More than background checks could give him. But it wouldn’t be as much as he’d get as soon as he had a warrant to question the guy.

“You never can tell.” Bruce’s remark was fair. The personal sting Mason felt was likely his own doing.

“Our business makes that clear, doesn’t it?” he returned.

Bruce nodded. Mason wished he was in Santa Raquel, at the bar with Harper.

She’d sent in their samples. So had he.

Behind Bruce’s back.

Just like the sex they’d had.

“Beyond those few dinners, you’re not aware of any association between the two?”

Jutting out his chin, Bruce shook his head.

“How long ago was the last dinner?”

“A month. Maybe two.”

“Any special occasion?”

Bruce shook his head again. “It was a Sunday,” he said. “I remember because Gram made a roast.”

“Which she only does on Sundays,” Mason finished, feeling a moment of normalcy.

“Every Sunday,” Bruce added, with a grin.

His little brother didn’t blame Mason for investigating him. He would’ve done the same himself. He’d said so.

Mason was tempted to ask Bruce to meet him for a beer later. To test the brother waters again. Five years was a long time. Maybe Miriam’s injuries were enough to bring them together. Harper had thought so…that first day…

“You talk to Harper?” Bruce’s question came as Mason wrestled with a beer request that wouldn’t quite come out.

A loaded question.

“Look, I figured you would. You’d have to if you’re any kind of investigator and I know you’re one of the best.”

“Briefly,” he said, his gaze steady. Bruce was completely correct. Mason had contacted Harper because he’d had no choice.

Bruce’s expression held no malice. He didn’t ask what Harper had said to him. Didn’t seem the least bit worried about it.

And had no cause to be. She’d never, for one second, considered that Bruce might be guilty of abusing Gram.

Neither had she made any move on Mason.

“You talking to her again?” This time his brother’s glance was somewhat guarded. Mason would’ve been concerned if it hadn’t been.

And he was prepared. The question was one he’d planned for.

“I will if I need to,” he said. “If not, then no.”

If something else presented itself, requiring him to bring in a witness a second time, he had the right to do so. The obligation to do so.

“Do you anticipate needing to?”

As a witness to an investigation Bruce was out of line now. And he knew it. But he needed more—and deserved it, too.

“You’re her daughter’s father and she’s loyal to you.” The words were difficult for him, but true. “Harper and I have no personal business, nor has there been any indication that either of us would allow there to be.” They wouldn’t allow it. He had no doubt of that. Wanting…now that was a different matter, but Mason had learned years ago that, as the song said, you couldn’t always get what you wanted.

In fact, more often than not, you couldn’t. From the time Bruce was born, Mason’s growing up had consisted of not getting what he wanted. Made him a better person.

A stronger, more reliable, decent man.

“So… Gram’s really okay?” Bruce asked him, eye to eye. Brother to brother.

He nodded. Wanted to ask about Grace, but didn’t. Not yet. Not until he got the two women together. Saw for himself how they were without Bruce in the picture.

Not until he had some time to process this first meeting.

He’d opened the door with his brother. Grace could wait for another talk.