Edge of Midnight (McClouds & Friends #4)(24)

Sean was baffled. “What guy? Who are you talking about?”

“Dad.” Davy’s voice was barely audible. “Delivering all of Mom’s babies, up here, in the middle of nowhere. All alone. Shitty roads. No phone. Twins, too.” He shuddered. “Just imagine. Sweet holy Jesus.”

Sean made a noncommittal sound as he brushed dirt and grass off his filthy shirt. “Given the choice, I’d rather not imagine it at all.”

Davy mopped sweat off his forehead and stared at the dark mass of mountains, his face stark. “I’d rather have every bone in my body broken one by one than take on that kind of responsibility.”

Sean got up, stretching and rolling his neck around, searching for the sore spots to rub. “Remember two things. One, Dad was nuts. He thought he was protecting Mom from the evil establishment. Two, he was an arrogant prick. He thought he could handle anything.”

“He was wrong,” Davy said bleakly.

“Yeah, he was. But you aren’t nuts. You aren’t an arrogant prick, either. At least, not all the time. And furthermore, Margot can look out for herself. You think the whole world is on your shoulders. It’s not. OK?”

Davy nodded, struggling up onto his feet. “Yeah,” he muttered.

Sean reached over and touched Davy’s shoulder. His brother was hot as a coal, soaked with sweat, and still shaking, but that deadly lethal, thrumming electric charge was gone. “So?” Sean demanded.

Davy shot him a wary glance. “So what?”

“So can you breathe now?”

Davy’s head jerked, in a curt nod.

“Good.” Sean gave his brother a hard shove that made him stumble. “Then go home and f*ck your wife. Dickless *.”

Davy’s leg swept Sean’s feet out from under him, dumping him on his ass. “We’ll see how well you deal when your turn comes.”

He turned back before climbing into his truck, and gave Sean a steely, squint-eyed look. “If you get in trouble tonight, I’m going to rip off one of your arms and beat the shit out of you with it,” he warned.

Sean grinned. “I love you too, man,” he replied. “Drive carefully.”

He watched his brother’s taillights winding down the switch-backs that led up to the house. We’ll see how well you deal when your turn comes. The thought gave him a tug, around the center of his chest.

Right. Like he was ever going to found a dynasty. With who? A dance club f*ckbunny? Someone like Stacey or Kendra?

Besides, Davy and Con were always on his case about his short attention span. The way they talked, he’d be liable to forget his own kid in a basket on the top of the car and drive off onto the express-way. He ought to do his hypothetical kids a favor. Give fatherhood a wide miss.

His two brothers had the preservation of the species well under control. He should probably just go to the doctor and snippity snip himself right out of the gene pool. Make it a non-issue, forever.

For some reason, the idea depressed the living shit out of him.





Chapter 6



F rom: witchywoman Bware: hi is anybody out there Miles checked the message he’d sent out, in the dialog box in the chat room. No bites yet. He turned to his other computers. He was futzing around in several chat rooms, using different characters and e-mail idents. Nobody interesting had come by, but it was early yet. He still marveled that he could dick around in cyberspace and actually get paid for it. He was racking up the billable hours as a cyber-consultant in Con’s Geek Eater investigation, pimping his various fantasy personas in chat rooms where nerds and geeks hung out.

Mina, aka witchywoman Bware, was his most succesful lure so far. She got lots of attention. He was hoping for a hit from Mindmeld tonight. He’d been the only one who’d wheedled Mina into a private u2u room and asked about her childhood, under the guise of wanting to know her better. Miles had spoon fed him Mina’s hard luck story in a self-deprecating tone that he was proud of; junkie mom, deadbeat dad, raised by grandma, but Gran was dead, sniff sniff…going to college because of Gran’s inheritance…etc, etc. He might actually turn out to be good at this social engineering stuff. And Mindmeld, who had confessed that his name was Jared, seemed to have a hidden agenda.

Miles could smell it. Like a fart in a car.

He turned away from the monitors, with their soothing blue glow. It was oddly depressing, being in his basement lair again. The McCloud brothers had kicked his ass until he rented a place in Seattle, just a room over someone’s garage, but it was good to be independent. Still, it made no sense to rent another room in Endicott Falls for two months while his folks’ basement stood empty. He didn’t have money to burn.

The problem was, the place reminded him way too much of his longtime crush on she-who-must-not-be-named. He’d spent years in this hole, listening to tapes of her playing her sax. Watching video montages of her. Wanking off to wishful, erotic scenarios where Cindy had an epiphany from God, and started seeing him as something other than a convenient adjunct brain. An external hard drive she could program to do her coursework while she went out partying with other guys. And he shouldn’t even go there. God knows, enough guys had already been there before him. A path had been blazed, by God.

A flash on the screen. A response to his query. He shot across the room on the rattling swivel chair. Excellent. Mindmeld himself.