“Sure.” Garrett waved him in. “Always. What’s up?”
Coulter entered the private space, pulling the doorshut behind him as he went. He walked over to the two chairs facing his brother’s desk and picked the one he came to first.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Well that sounds ominous.” Garrett closed his laptop and settled back into his leather chair. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Great, actually.” At least he would be until his brother learned the truth. “So, uh . . . I have a confession to make. But before I do, I need you to remember I love you and pops more than anything in the world.”
Garrett’s spine stiffened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk before him. “Okay, now you’re starting to scare me. What’s going on, Colt? You aren’t sick, are you?”
“No,” he blurted, quickly shutting down that particular concern. “It’s just . . .”
Damn. This is a lot harder than I thought.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” His brother frowned. “You know I’m here for you, no matter what.”
“Yeah, you might want to hang onto that sentiment.” Coulter ran a hand over his jaw.Just tell him.“Okay, here it goes.” He looked his brother square in the eyes. “I’m not really a traveling marketing consultant.”
His brother’s dark brows dipped in the center. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ve been lying to you and Pops for a while now about what it is I really do for a living. The truth is, I’m a covert field agent for a specialized unit within the CIA.”
There. He’d done it. His brother knew the truth, and there was no going back.
Coulter watched his brother closely, waiting for the wrath he knew was about to come. But like Alex, Garrett’s first reaction was to throw his head back and laugh.
“The CIA?” The other man barked out an echoing chuckle. “Damn, brother. You really had me going for a second. I thought you were going to tell me you were dying or something.”
“Not today, anyway.” Colt gave his head a quick shake. Shifting his lower body to the side, he reached for the ID that was in his back pocket. “But I am with the CIA.”
He tossed the leather holder Garrett’s way. His brother caught it mid-air with one hand. Flipping it open, the man who’d been his best friend since the day he was born studied its contents with an operative’s eye.
All signs of humor vanished as the realization of the truth began to sink in. Coulter held his breath and waited.
Three . . . two . . . one . . .
“What the hell?” Garrett’s gaze flew to his. There was unmistakable confusion and hurt. “This looks pretty damn real, Colt.”
“Because it is.” He swallowed hard. “It’s why I’m hardly ever home.”
His brother looked back down at the ID in his hands, his expression growing harder with each second that passed. “You’re serious?” He looked back up. “No bullshit?”
Coulter held his brother’s gaze steady. “No bullshit.”
Garrett dropped the leather holder and sat back in his chair. Running a hand over his strong jaw, he spent a stretch saying nothing. All he did was stare.
Oh, yeah. He’s pissed.
“This whole time . . .” A muscle twitched at the side of his brother’s jaw. “All those stories about the places you’ve been and the things you’ve seen?—”
“To be fair, some of those were true.”
“Cut the shit, Colt. This is me, remember? I’m the guy who’s had your back since the day you were born.”
“I know.”
“Why the hell didn’t you say something before now?”
