Frisk Me(51)

That damned silent inquisition.

Shit. Luc caved.

“It’s like a movie reel,” Luc said, arms still crossed over his chest, fingers clenching his arms. “Except I never see the beginning. I never see the part where we get to the house of the suspected perp and sit outside, awaiting orders. I never relive those agonizing moments where we sit with our thumbs up our ass outside that house waiting to see if the lead is good.”

Anthony pauses in his chewing, looking like he wants to interrupt but instead nods at Luc to continue.

Luc runs a hand over his neck. “I never see any of the early stuff. It’s like my subconscious wants to utter the ultimate f*ck you by dropping me into the dream right at the moment that the front door opens and there’s a Goddamn thirty-nine barrel pointed at Jensen. Two pops, and…”

Luc paused. This was the hard part. No, one of the hard parts.

“I see Jensen’s face. The walk, the front door, even the gun, they’re all kind of a quick blur, like they’re just details, and then the dream sequence hits slo-mo when I turn and watch Jensen go down. His eyes…”

Anthony sets his pasta aside unfinished, and Luc knew he’d just killed his brother’s appetite. Mike Jensen had been Luc’s partner, but he’d been Anthony’s friend too.

“What else?” Anthony asks, breaking his silence.

Luc stared down at his bare feet. “The girl. I see her every time, lying there, still. That’s the only part of the dream that deviates from memory…the way it actually went down; when I first saw her body, I knew she was dead, but didn’t know just how recently.”

Luc tensed his jaw, once, twice, before continuing. “But in the dream, I know. In the dream I’ve got the shitty benefit of hindsight, and I know that she’s been dead only minutes. Dead because Jonas Black saw our f*cking car parked out front like a couple of rookies and panicked.”

Anthony’s gaze was steady. “Black was going to kill her anyway, Luca. You know that. He killed three other girls before that, without any cop intervention.”

“I could have saved her. I f*cking knew it was him, and I sat there waiting for orders.”

“Luc—”

“I knew it was him!” His shout echoed, and both men glanced toward Anthony’s bedroom door, but it stayed shut. His sleepover buddy was apparently a deep sleeper.

Luc took a deep breath. Calmed himself. “I knew it was him in my gut, Anth. I knew it. But I was too scared of getting reprimanded for disobeying orders.”

Anthony shook his head. “Your captain tells you to hold off, you hold off.”

“Is that what you would have done?”

It wasn’t a casual question. It was a challenge, and Luc could tell from the narrowing of his brother’s eyes that Anthony knew it.

“Following orders is the job.”

It wasn’t a straight answer. Luc wasn’t sure he wanted a straight answer, although he was afraid he already knew.

Anthony would have gone in there without permission if his cop instinct was buzzing.

If Anthony had been called to the scene instead of Luc, Jensen and Shayna would still be alive.

But even chewed up as he was over the nightmare, Luc knew that going down the path of hypothetic wasn’t healthy. It wouldn’t happen. Except…

It had been Luc who had been called to the scene.

It had been Luc’s partner who had gotten shot.

It had been Luc who had to touch the angry marks on Shayna’s neck to check for a pulse that wasn’t there.

“Hey,” Anthony said, his voice gentler than its usual gruff bark. “Whatever you’re thinking…stop.”

Luc met his brother’s eyes, and then with every burst of willpower did what the cop therapist had suggested he try whenever the memories threatened to take over.

He took a deep breath. Counted to three. Another breath. Three again.

One…

Two…

Very slowly the pressure in his chest started to ease. He gave his brother a nod. I’m okay.

Then he reached for Anthony’s discarded leftovers, not bothering to get a fresh fork, because…brothers.

“Guess I should be thankful the paparazzi and tourists weren’t around for that part of my career, huh?” Luc asked with a wan smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Luc stopped chewing and narrowed his eyes on Anthony’s face. His brother had suddenly stopped making eye contact and was making a big deal out of washing his water glass.

Not having Anthony’s power of silent inquisition, he went for the regular, verbal kind. “What’s up?”

“Huh?”

Luc speared the last remaining piece of penne and studied his brother. “Don’t huh me. You got all weird when I mentioned the media.”

Luc’s fork dropped loudly to the counter as he stood up straighter. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t tell Ava Sims about Shayna Taylor.”

“No!” His brother looked uncharacteristically expressive, and the expression was pissed. “Fuck you.”

Luc relaxed only slightly. “Nonna? Did she tell Ava?”

“Christ, Luca…We’re your family. We’re here to protect you, not throw your most painful memories out to a hot reporter.”

“Then why’d you go weird?”