Dead Man’s Deal. Jocelynn Drake
slip to make Bronx shake his head.
The chime for the front door sang through the lobby as someone walked in. “Saved by the bell,” I said, starting to push Trixie back.
“So it would seem,” she said with a glare before easing into a smile. “Stay. I’ll get it.”
I nodded and then watched her walk toward the front. Turning, I found Bronx relaxing on his stool, his back leaning against the counter behind him. He looked tired, both physically and maybe even a little emotionally. I opened my mouth, but he held up his hand, stopping me.
“Apologize again and I’ll hit you.”
“I can’t help it.”
“If you hadn’t done something, I would have and I’d be feeling worse if not dead right now.”
My eyes hardened on his face while my hands clenched the arms of the chair I was sitting in. “I’ll get you out of this.”
“You’ll get us both out,” Bronx corrected, his eyes drifting closed. “I’m not leaving you alone with Reave. Both or none at all.”
I nodded in a sharp, jerky motion as Trixie’s heels thudded across the floor toward me. I looked up and forced a smile on my face. She’d talk to Bronx after I left for the night and then again to me when we met up after her shift. There was no hiding the Reave business from her now, but I didn’t want to worry her while we were in the shop.
Trixie motioned toward the front with her head. “He’s asking for the owner.”
“Problem?”
“I don’t think so. Doesn’t seem angry. I don’t remember ever seeing him before, so I don’t think we’ve tattooed him.”
“Got it.” I pushed to my feet and gave her hand a quick squeeze as I stepped around her and walked to the lobby. I hadn’t heard any of her conversation with the customer because my attention had been on Bronx. I hadn’t heard his voice, but I wished I had.
Stepping behind the counter, I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach, forcing all the air out of my lungs. The blood drained from my face as I stared at the man. He was older than I remembered, but it had been more than ten years since I had last seen him. His blondish-brown hair was longer, brushing against his shoulders, but it was the same brown eyes.
“Shit! Robby?” I gasped when I found my voice.
The man’s brows snapped together as he stared warily at me. He even backed up a step. “Yeah, it’s Robert. Robert Grant,” he said slowly. He looked like he was about to bolt for the door, but he paused, squinting at me. “Ja—”
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, cutting him off. “Baby brother.”
“Holy fuck!” Robert shouted as I came around the counter. He pulled me into a rough hug, thumping hard on my back several times. I hugged him back, laughing. I hadn’t seen my older brother in a decade. What were the insane odds that he’d walk into my shop? I didn’t care. I had my brother back; didn’t matter if it was for an hour or for the rest of our lives.
Robert pulled away, holding me by the shoulders as he looked me over. We were about the same height. I was leaner in build, while Robert had become stockier, with a thick chest and neck. There was a small scar on his chin that hadn’t been there when I last saw him and more worry lines stretched around his eyes, but he was the same.
“You’ve changed,” he said, seeming to talk mostly to himself. I smiled, running one hand through my hair. When last he had seen me, it had been longer, stretching past my shoulders. And pale blond. “You dyed it?”
I shook my head, my smile changing to a cocky smirk. “Tattoo.”
“Then you’re not wearing contacts either?”
I shook my head again. Stepping from his grasp, I turned and pulled up my T-shirt to reveal the tiger tattoo that stretched across my back. It was my only tattoo and it had taken three months to complete. Woven throughout it were a series of potions that tweaked my appearance and the way people remembered me. It was as much for their protection as my own. “The tattoo permanently changed my hair and eye color to brown.”
“Must be easier than having to dye your hair once a month,” Robert joked as I pulled my T-shirt back into place. I turned to face him and he clapped me on the side of the head, pulling me close so he could press his forehead to mine. “Doesn’t matter. You’re still the same old Ja—”
Again, I had to stop him. “It’s Gage now.” I pulled back so I could see his smile fading and sadness enter his eyes. The Ivory Towers had come between us. He was trying so hard to bridge that gap, but it was crumbling under his feet. First, I no longer looked like the brother he had known, and now my name. There were other things, I had no doubt, but I wasn’t going to let him slip away. Grabbing one shoulder, I thumped him hard on the chest, right over his heart, with my fist. “I’m the same in here. They couldn’t change that. They didn’t take that away.”
“Yeah,” he said, then continued, his voice gaining strength. “Yeah! My brother. Gage?”
“Gage Powell,” I said with a smile as I released him.
He nodded. “Gage Powell. I guess it’ll do. I can’t believe this. How long have you been in Low Town?”
“Ten years.” I shrugged. “It’s where I ended up after leaving Mom and Dad’s. It seemed far enough away. Big enough to get lost in, small enough to avoid notice.”
Robert chuckled. “You think like Dad.”
“What do you mean?”
“They moved here eight years ago. They live up in Shadybrooke.”
I felt my knees start to give out. Somehow I stumbled backward, so that I ended up sitting on the bench that ran the length of the back wall rather than sitting on the floor. Shadybrooke was one of the suburban outskirts of Low Town near the north side of the city. Nice if you don’t mind bland and monotonous.
“Here? Why? They loved Vermont.”
Robert plopped down next to me on the bench and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. They’re here and they like Shadybrooke.” He then cocked his head to the side as he looked at me. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen them.”
“No, not since I left.” I shook my head, lost in a sad memory for a moment, when my brain checked in with a thought. “Wait! When did you last see them?”
Robert grimaced, looking down at the hardwood floor. “Been a few years.”
I bit my tongue hard to hold in the questions. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t like the answers and I didn’t want to start a fight within five minutes of seeing my brother for the first time in ten years. I’d save the fight for when I was sure there was going to be a later. “What about Meggie?” Inwardly, I prayed our younger sister was a safe topic.
Robert’s smile returned, softening his features. “She’s in Romania, teaching English and French.” His hands dropped into his lap, where he loosely threaded his fingers together.
“She didn’t go vampire, did she?” I asked hesitantly. Romania was heavy vampire territory.
“No!” he said with a laugh. “Well, not since I last heard from her, which was about six months ago, and she didn’t sound like she had any plans to. She’s teaching a couple night classes for the vamps.” His smile faded and a frown returned to his eyes. “Though it does sound like she’s fallen in with some Gypsies. In her last e-mail, she was bragging about getting good with her hands. I thought it was best not to ask too many questions.”
I chuckled, scratching the back of my head. Yeah, that was our mom’s influence on us. She always seemed to know when it was best to pry into our lives with questions to put us back on the straight and narrow and when to let us run wild. “How’d she end up in Romania?” When I