“That’ll work.”
“I’ll phone Bran, ask him to meet us there.”
“Say two o’clock?”
“I’ll see you then.” Chase hung up and punched in Bran’s contact number. His brother picked up on the second ring. “Reese wants to see us. He says it’s important. Can you be at my place at two?”
“Sure, no problem. I talked to him this morning, but he didn’t say anything about it. Any idea what’s going on?”
“Not a clue.”
“I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”
“I’m not a fan of surprises,” Chase said. “I’ll see you there.” He hung up the phone. Reese was separated from his wife, Sandra, and living in an apartment. Getting back together didn’t look good. Maybe Reese was going to tell them he was getting a divorce—which wouldn’t come as much of a surprise.
But from the tone of his brother’s voice, Chase didn’t think so. After the months Reese and Sandra had been apart, a phone call would have been enough.
By the time he grabbed his jacket off the coatrack in the corner and headed out the door, he’d come up with half a dozen different scenarios. Trouble with the family-owned company, a financial problem of some kind. A lawsuit. People were sue-crazy these days. He didn’t want to think Reese might have some kind of illness.
Chase had no idea what the hell was going on.
A little before two, he parked the Dodge in its spot in the underground garage next to the Benz and took the elevator up to the seventeenth floor. Bran was standing in the hall in front of the door, using his key to get in.
“Hey, bro,” Bran called out, turning the knob and stepping into the foyer. Chase followed him inside.
“You come up with any ideas?” Bran asked. “Nothing makes sense.”
“We’re about to find out. You want a beer or something?”
“I could use one. I got a bad feeling about this.”
It wasn’t like Reese to call a family meeting. Hell, it wasn’t like any of them. They all got together on holidays or whenever they felt the urge, but the last time there had been an official meeting was when their mother got cancer. The memory made Chase’s stomach burn.
They headed down the hall to the study, the place Chase spent most of his time. He walked over to the wet bar, opened the undercounter fridge and pulled out a couple of Lone Stars. Twisting off the cap, he handed one to Bran, opened another one and took a long swallow.
Reese’s voice came from the doorway. “I could use one of those myself.” His middle brother looked a lot like their grandfather, with Sam Devlin’s black hair and blue eyes. Reese’s good looks had been part of his problem in high school, too handsome, too many women and too much money, always a recipe for trouble.
“You might want to sit down for this,” Reese said to both brothers, accepting the beer Chase handed him.
Bran didn’t budge. Worry tightened his features. “Just tell us you aren’t sick.”
Reese’s head came up. “No. God, no. It’s nothing like that. I’m sorry. I should have told you that right off.”
Chase locked eyes with Bran, and both of them breathed a sigh of relief.
“This is family business,” Reese continued. “Something that happened in the past that you both need to know about.”
At least they weren’t going to lose another member of their family. Crossing the room, the men sat down on the brown leather sofa and chairs around the dark wood coffee table. A gas fireplace was built into the wall not far away, but it wasn’t burning.
Chase took a drink of beer. Bran did the same. A little fortification. “Okay, we’re listening.”
“This is something Dad told me when he was in the hospital, the day before he died.” Since Bass had mostly raised him, Reese had been closest to their father.
“Dad wanted someone to know. He made me promise I’d never tell anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. With everything that’s going on, I think it’s time you knew the truth.”
Bran set his beer down sharply on the coffee table. “What the hell is it, Reese?”
“Michael Winston is our brother.”
