No, scratch that. More thananything, he wanted to take Nolan back to his place and do everything with him he’d been fantasizing about every day for hundreds upon hundreds of days.
Instead, he stepped in and hooked an arm around Nolan’s neck, pulling the object of his fantasies in for a hot, bruising kiss that set his veins fizzing and got him instantly hard. When Nolan fisted his shirt, Dallas broke away and gasped for breath, hardly able to believe this was happening.
Unable to keep himself from toying with the ends of Nolan’s soft hair, Dallas stared down into his blazing brown eyes. “Please be real,” he begged, his voice hoarse.
And then, ignoring Nolan’s outstretched hand, he turned and walked away.
KML Braun’s offices were located in the rural outskirts of Lucerne on a tree-lined highway sparsely populated with industrial and commercial spaces. At eleven o’clock, Jason slouched in the shade of a sycamore tree next to the loading docks of an L-shaped complex of dark blue buildings. The mirrored windows on this side had a view of the parking lot, a car dealer across the street, and the soft green foothills in the background.
He adjusted his ball cap—he’d ditched the wig—and tried not to fidget in the blue coveralls he wore as he pretended to smoke a cigarette. So far, no one had paid him any attention, but that wouldn’t last forever.
His mind was split between the plan to ambush his brother, and Emma, who sat at a metal picnic table with a half-eaten sandwich from the building’s restaurant, staring at a cell phone, a burning cigarette pinched between two fingers of her scrolling hand. She wore the blond wig, a gray pinstripe dress with black flats, and a small black purse with a thin strap that cut diagonally between her breasts. Other than the wig, she’d bought the entire outfit at a thrift store on their way over. With her legs crossed, one foot bouncing, and the curled posture she’d adopted, she looked like any bored office worker on an early lunch break.
Jason’s phone vibrated with a message from Todd, who was watching through binoculars from across the street. He’d spotted Byron heading out of the building. Later than expected, but the man had a pretty demanding nicotine habit. It had only been a matter of time. Byron had tried every possible method to quit, but to his everlasting chagrin, he apparently had the gene that left him forever hooked after trying a single cigarette in high school.
It was one thing of Byron’s that had never made Jason envious.
An unpleasant fluttery feeling filled his chest as he caught movement on the sidewalk from the corner of his eye and his brother’s impatient voice floated on the breeze. Keeping his head down, Jason hunched his shoulders and tried to look shorter and dumpier and fascinated by his phone.
“Just get it done,” Byron snapped, impatient as ever, mumbling to himself as he slid the phone into the front pocket of his expensive slacks and removed a metal cigarette case from the other. The scowl on his face could be as much for whoever had been on the phone as for the fact that he was forced to mingle with the general population to get his fix.
When he got within ten yards of a tall, skinny cigarette butt receptacle, he lit up and took a deep drag, exhaling on a long sigh. At the table, he brushed the bench with his hand to check for dirt, and sat across from Emma at the opposite end, setting his phone and cigarettes on the table.
Moving quickly, Jason slid in across from him. “Hey, Byron.”
His brother’s eyes widened as recognition dawned. “Jason?” His body tensed and he sat up straight, schooling his features to give away nothing. “What are you doing here? I thought you were sick.”
He watched for his brother’s tells, hard won through years of observation. Contrary to popular belief, there were no universal signs of lying, but if you knew someone well enough, and paid close attention, you might learn their unique giveaways. “I have some questions for you.”
Byron glanced at Emma, who had dropped all pretense of ignoring them. “Not here.”
“It’s fine,” Jason said. “She’s with me.”
His brother’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. Was that a flicker of recognition? He shook his head and glared at Jason. “So you weren’t sick, you were just up late fucking your latest groupie. Very professional, brother.”
Anger filled Jason’s chest like steam in a pressure cooker. Byron didn’t just know which buttons to push, he had an entire control panel of them at his disposal. It didn’t help that his accusation wasn’t completely off the mark.
Don’t let him get to you.“Why did you have me follow Viktor Schulz this week?”
Byron pulled his chin back and gave him an affronted look. “We already discussed this when I hired your team.”
“Humor me,” Jason said.
“Because we suspected him of leaking information about our contract negotiations to a competitor. We were hoping you’d catch him in the act and help us identify whoever he was meeting.”
“Is that also why you had him killed?”
“What—” He reached for his things and attempted to stand, but Jason snagged his arm and held him in place. Byron sputtered. “What the fuck has gotten into you?” He tugged against Jason’s grip, but didn’t fight too hard. He could no longer outmatch his younger brother physically.
“Did you have Viktor killed?” Jason asked, enunciating each word carefully, the hard edge of his voice betraying his ire.
“Are you high?” Byron appeared legitimately bewildered by the accusation. “Why would I do that?”
Jason barely contained his sigh of relief. “What about Kerry Martin? Did you or someone else working for Warner have her taken out?”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Byron made an impatient noise. “The woman committed suicide. She left a note and everything. Please don’t tell me you’re buying into the wild accusations by grieving parents who are in denial. I thought you were smarter than that.”
Emma scooted closer, set her phone on the table next to Byron’s, and tapped the screen. An American woman’s voice filled the air. “I’m not giving up the baby.”
