Keith, without a greeting or second glance, went directly into their mother’s room.
Cam’s gaze followed his younger brother until the older one in front of him spoke. “He’s angry.”
“He’s been angry for two decades.”
“Because of what we did.”
Grim-faced, Bobby tilted his head toward the other end of the hallway. They were halfway down the hall before Cam asked, “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be home sleeping.”
“Sat up talking with Keith, then gave him a lift here.”
“Don’t you have to be at work in the morning?”
Bobby waggled his dark brows as he ducked into one of the lounges. “Benefits of being the boss.” He ran his own private security company, an ironic yet appropriate gig for a former B&E guy. “Besides, you’re the one who looks like he needs sleep.”
“Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“Because it’s true,” Bobby said as he poured coffee for them both. “How are you, really?”
“Tired,” he admitted, eagerly taking the cup, and Bobby smiled wider. “The case?—”
“Don’t want to hear about the case.” He pulled out a chair at one of the lounge tables, and Cam claimed the other across from him.
“You’re angry too.”
“No,” Bobby said, surprising Cam. “I understand why she asked and why you have to look. You’re doing us both a favor.”
“But Keith . . .”
“He’d be just as angry if you were here looking over his shoulder.” He took a long swallow, then leaned back in his chair. “I meant, how are you doing? After that case last spring? With work? With San Francisco? You haven’t really mentioned to anyone how life’s going for you out there.”
“I’m not the one we need to be worrying about right now.”
Bobby laid a coffee-warmed hand on his forearm. “I’m not worried. I just want to know and to not think about our mom’s condition for five minutes.”
There was a reason he and Bobby were closest. They thought so much alike, for better or worse. “The case was hard. I can’t go into details.”
“Understood. But you made it through okay?”
“Yeah, I have a good partner and good friends. They kept me grounded through it.” The heist case had been rough, having to dig into his old life to save another, and there’d been more than a few close calls. Worth it, though. “I was able to help someone else’s sister too.”
“That’s good, that’s good.”
“I haven’t broken our promise, Bobby.” After Erin’s disappearance, they’d promised each other never to slip back into the life. It had been hard for Cam on that case to ignore the adrenaline rush each time he cracked a safe, coming right up on his red line multiple times, but he’d stayed on the right side of it by remembering the promise he’d made to Bobby and the people counting on him.
“I know that,” Bobby said with a nod. “How’s San Francisco?”
“Fucking expensive.” Cam groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. “And fucking swarming with Giants and Warriors fans. Though get this. Nic, the former special forces prosecutor”—he lowered his voice because God forbid anyone hear the blasphemy he was about to utter—“is a fucking Kings fan.”
Now it was Bobby’s turn to groan loudly.
Cam laughed. “He’s also determined to rename Bird, Joe.”
“And this guy’s still a friend?”
More than, but Cam still wasn’t ready to have that conversation, not while they were all so tense. “He also brews a wicked good beer,” he said, sticking to a safer topic.
“Hmm, good man to have around, then.” Bobby searched his face, a little too knowing, and Cam stood, heading back to the coffeepot. “Anyone special in San Fran?” Bobby asked.
