Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(132)

"No. I was with her until around five a.m. Then I sneaked outside."

"Why the hell did you do that?" Sean demanded.

"I was afraid of her mother," Connor admitted. "You saw that Jag. Can you blame me? I came back in around eight for breakfast."

Sean stared out the window, scowling. "Can't she just say you were with her? What does it matter, if you're innocent anyway?"

"I'm sure she would, if I asked her to," Connor said softly. "But it wouldn't be right. I don't want anything with her that's built on lies."

Sean slammed his cup down onto the counter. Scalding coffee splashed over his hand. He lunged for the sink and ran cold water over it. "Built on lies, my ass! Brainless, self-righteous idiot!"

Connor winced and covered his ears. "Please don't break anything else," he pleaded. "My head hurts. I can't stand the noise."

"You've got to shake this thing off of you, goddammit! And you've got to get that girl, too. And do you know why?"

Connor sank back into his chair, resigned. Evidently today's histrionics weren't over yet. "OK. Tell me why, Sean."

"Because you deserve it. You're a righteous dude. You're like… noble or something. With your code of honor. Your marching orders. That's why Davy and I tease you about the hero complex. It's a soft spot that can't be shielded. It leaves you wide open."

Connor sighed. "That is such a crock—"

"You're a good guy, Con," Sean trampled over his protests. "More so than Davy or me. More than anyone I know, except for maybe Jesse, and look what happened to him. You can't bend, you can't cut bait and run. You can't compromise. It's like, you don't even know how."

Connor stared down into his coffee and tried not to think about Jesse. He felt bad enough already. "Dad was like that," he pointed out. "He didn't know how to bend. So he broke."

Silence fell. The dour ghost of Eamon's memory weighed upon them. Eamon had been a good and honorable man, but he had been profoundly disillusioned by the violent insults that life had dealt him. Grief and anger had chipped away at his sanity until it was totally gone.

"You're not like Dad, Con." Sean's voice vibrated with suppressed emotion. "You're stronger than Dad was. And you're kinder, too."

Connor took a gulp of his coffee and groped around for a change of subject. The coffee itself was always a handy culprit. "Christ, Sean, how did you make this stuff so strong? It's corroding my gut."

"That's the scotch, bozo, not my coffee. Let's coat it with some food," Sean said. "Go shower while I make you some lunch."

"Don't coddle me," Connor snapped. "I can take care of my—"

"Take a shower, and put on one of my shirts. None of your limp, faded crap. You want the world to think you're sane and well-balanced? Start by shaving and combing your hair."

When Connor came back down to the kitchen, he was freshly shaven and dressed in a crisp denim shirt he'd found in Sean's closet. His brother ran a critical eye over him, and nodded. "You'll do."

Connor grunted and sat down. They honored a tacit agreement not to tear open any more raw, unspeakable topics, and since there was nothing to talk about except madness, murder, love, heartbreak, and God only knew what else, they concentrated on chewing and swallowing Sean's grilled ham and cheese sandwiches in silence.

Sean shrugged on his leather jacket afterwards. "I cooked, so you do the dishes," he announced. "I'm going to go track down Davy. We have to start turning over some rocks about that murder rap."

"Stay out of it," Connor snapped, as he followed him out to the car.

Sean dug for his keys. "Yeah, sure. As if. You should find Erin, now that you've shaved. Talk to her. Lay on that old McCloud charm."

"Charm, my ass. I sprout hair on the back of my hands whenever I get near her. Besides, she's busy with the filthy rich art fiend who wants to drape her in jewels and take her to Paris."

Sean's jaw sagged in dismay. "What? And you just let her go? Where do you keep your brains, Con? In a box under your bed?"

"She wouldn't let me go with her," Connor snarled. "Get it through your thick skull! She doesn't want me, so I can't follow her around. It's against the rules. It's called stalking. Crazy guys stalk women. I'm making a big effort not to act crazy right now. Do you follow me?"

Sean looked pained. "Yeah, but letting her go see a guy who's waving tickets to Paris? Jesus, Con. That calls for desperate measures."

"Don't get me started," he growled. "I've been going over it all night. At least she's not alone, for all the good that does. Tonia would probably cheer Mueller on. Hell, she'd probably propose a threesome."

"Tonia Vasquez, you mean? Erin's bodacious nurse friend?"

Connor stared at him, startled. "How do you know about Tonia the bodacious nurse? I never told you about her."

"I met her this morning when I dropped off Miles. She was talking to Erin's mom. Beautiful tits. I recognized her, you know."

"From where?"

"From the clinic." Sean gave him a funny look, as if it should be obvious. "She was a nurse there when you were in your coma. You know I never forget a face. Or a chest, for that matter."