“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Josh nodded to the hall. “You alone?”
Gabe’s gaze slid to Josh’s Glock. “Yeah, bro, I’m alone. A’ight?” Still dodging eye contact, he messed with his black Nike hat. “We cool?”
Answering for him, Bree’s already-exasperated glare turned to daggers.
Josh let up on his hold but not on the questions. “Where you been?”
“Lying low.” Gabe adjusted his T-shirt on his way to the couch in the living room, Bree right behind. He fixed his attention on her. “I heard what went down at the house today. You weren’t answering your phone. I was worried.”
She patted her pockets for her cell. “Sorry. I must not get reception in the hospital. I—”
“The hospital?” His gaze bounced over her in search of injuries.
“I’m fine.” Clyde hopped up into her lap, circled twice, and curled against her stomach. Bree kept her chin down while rubbing his ear between her fingers. “The police insisted I get checked out, but I just have some scrapes. It’s nothing.”
Bonnie wedged her way into Bree’s lap, too, and nuzzled against Clyde.
“Did you see Dad?”
Head still lowered, Bree picked at the edge of a bandage on her arm. “No.”
The single word dragged the conversation into the no-trespassing zone it always led to. Other than the constant purring coming from the two lovebugs giving each other baths, the room fell silent.
Gabe spun the worn skateboard he had propped between his knees, still clinging to the air of adolescence Josh had hoped he would’ve grown out of by now. In a solid black T-shirt to match his hat, mesh shorts halfway down his drawers, and a pair of Nike crew socks, he glanced from one angle of the room to the next.
“You haven’t been to the deli.” When Bree shifted, both cats jetted to the floor. “You quit your job or something?”
Gabe sat forward. “You been keeping tabs on me?”
The offensive stare the cats darted at Bree had nothing on the look she flashed at her brother. “When the Sanchez Crew’s out for us, and I can’t get a hold of you? Yeah, you better believe I’m trying to track you down.”
Gabe slouched. “I’m not a kid.”
“Then stop acting like one,” Josh piped in.
“What do you know about it?”
“I know you’re not leveling with us. Why are you acting like we’re the enemy here?”
“Are you seriously trying to flip that on me right now? This isn’t an interrogation room, bro.”
A tendon on Josh’s neck flexed. “Then be straight with me before it turns into one.”
“Josh . . .”
Ignoring Bree’s warning, he kept pressing. “Do you even care there’s a hit on your sister?”
“That ain’t gonna happen.”
“You know something I don’t?”
Gabe twisted his hat to the side and back again, jaw tight. “I know I ain’t gonna let anyone hurt her.”
Bree shot to the edge of the cushion. “Don’t even think about it, Gabe. Let the NYPD do their jobs.”
Like she should be doing?
As if hearing his thoughts, she conveniently avoided his loaded expression. Stubbornness ran in their family. If he were honest, he’d admit it extended to his as well, along with reacting before thinking. That’d already gotten him into enough trouble earlier.
Yet somehow, he hadn’t lost his chance at winning Bree back. He sensed it at the hospital, then here before Gabe came. Which meant he had to be smart about this. Forget every other reason, he needed to crack this case for Bree to prove he could give her the life she yearned for. He was running out of time.
Silence wormed into the room like a breeding ground for the awkward tension already festering.
Josh eyed the skateboard Gabe shuffled from hand to hand for the fifth time since sitting down. Nervous tics meant one thing. Gabe knew something. Question was, how to get him to talk. Would he lower his defenses with Bree? One way to find out.
Josh rose. “I’m gonna get that coffee started.”
“Oh, right.” Bree pushed up from the couch. “Sorry.”
“I got it.”
In the kitchen, he rummaged through the cabinets and got the teakettle going. While filling a travel mug with ice cubes, he kept his ears attuned to any clues from the conversation happening in the other room.
“If you haven’t been to see Dad, why should I?”
“You know why, Gabe.”
“And you know going there won’t exactly keep me off the radar. If they have eyes on our house, what makes you think they aren’t staking out his hospital room?”
“He has uniforms posted at his door.”
Gabe scoffed. “You act like that’s supposed to mean somethin’.”
Josh didn’t need to see Bree’s face to feel the strain in her pause. “What’s going on with you? If you’re scared, we can—”
“Can what? You don’t get it. Just ’cause you’ve been around their turf don’t mean you know them or what they’re capable of.”
“And you do?”
Another heavy pause. “I know enough.”
And had better start talking. Now. Josh strode into the living room.
Gabe must’ve read his face. “I don’t got nothing to tell.”
“Thought we were supposed to be cool.”
Gabe flipped his hat off, worked his fingers through his hair, and tugged the hat back on.
C’mon, bro. Do the right thing.
Gabe rubbed his ankle under his sock, face tight as though repressing pain. Josh stared at the Nike emblem. Daniels’s crack about Gabe’s room came to mind, but something else about it gnawed at him.
Clutching his board again, Gabe scooted forward and adjusted the chain along the back of his neck. If his movement got any edgier, it’d slice through the thick silence waiting for his response.
Mixed emotions chased the exhaustion weighing down Bree’s usual posture. He needed a way to help her relax. Couldn’t Gabe see what this was doing to her?
A knock at the door jutted into the teakettle’s whistle. Bree startled, sending the cat duo at her feet scampering toward the bedroom. She hustled to turn off the burner while Josh gestured for Gabe to stay put. Glock drawn, he edged along the wall.
Another knock. “D’Angelo, your shift’s over. Answer the door.”
Daniels. Securing his gun, Josh checked the peephole and opened the door halfway. He gripped the trim with one hand and rested the other on the knob. “You’ve put in more hours than me. I’ll work a double. Take the night off.”
His partner peered behind him toward Gabe and Bree, then nodded to the hallway. Josh followed, leaving the door cracked open.
“You need to go home.”
“Why?”
“Get some rest, D’Angelo. You’re not doing Bree any favors running on empty.”
Josh studied her. “What aren’t you saying?”
“Bryant paid Sarge a visit today.”
Perfect. “What’s he threatening to do now? Sick IAB on me?”
“Don’t even joke about Internal Affairs. That’s not funny.”
He twisted Dad’s ring to the right and left. “Like it’d fly. Bryant’s just blowing off steam.”
“It’s more than steam, Josh.” She fiddled with her watch—her telltale sign she was uncomfortable.
“Daniels.”
“Sarge is gonna place you on modified assignment.” Compassion coated the message but couldn’t alleviate the sting. It pummeled anyway, like a round to the chest.
The door creaked behind him, followed by Bree’s concerned voice. “Everything okay?”
Far from it.
He swore under his breath. Sarge couldn’t bench him. Not from this assignment. Not when Bree was just starting to . . .
“Josh?” A gentle touch brushed his shoulder.
With a deep inhale that wouldn’t change anything, he turned to face the girl he’d wanted to protect from t
he day he first met her. The same girl he was letting down.
Again.
Chapter Twelve
Stirred
In Daniels’s passenger seat, Bree faced the morning sunlight filtering through the clouds. Seemed strange for a street that’d been wrecked with chaos yesterday to feel so peaceful now.
She glanced at her cell. Still no new messages. She didn’t blame Gabe for bouncing after Daniels had shown up at the apartment yesterday, but did he have to shut Bree out too?
At least she wasn’t completely alone. She repositioned her violin case beside her feet. “Thanks for letting me swing by here. I’m sorry you have to chauffeur me around today.”
Daniels nodded in her direction. “All part of the job.”
A job Bree should be grateful Daniels was filling instead of Josh. She’d told him to get a different assignment. Had wanted to avoid the connection they had and the feelings he awakened. But now that she’d gotten her wish, she had no choice but to admit she was the world’s worst liar—especially to herself.
Bree unbuckled her seat belt when they stopped in front of Nikki’s house, one lot down from Bree’s parents’. Thankfully, the gunshots had only struck their primary target. But that didn’t mean her neighbors walked away without impact. She had to make sure Nikki and Sebastian were okay.
Daniels met her around the bumper while scouring the street. “Stay close.”
“Understood.”
Before Bree could set her violin aside, Nikki caught her up in the kind of hug girlfriends rely on. “You all right?”
She had been a moment ago. Her friend’s concern and affection rooted a lump in her throat. “Fine.”
“Good.” Nikki popped her in the arm. “Then get outta here. You’s crazy if you think the Sanchez Crew is gonna let up. I know you’ve been away from the streets for a while, but dang, chica. Thought you was one of the smart ones. What are you doin’ coming back here today?”
If Bree didn’t know her so well, that intimidating mom-look would have her reaching for the car door handle. A grin slipped through.
“I ain’t playin’, girl. This is serious.”
“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just . . .”
Nikki crossed her arms, hoop earrings dangling against her cocked chin. “What?”
“Does your Mama-bear routine ever intimidate Bosco?”
Nikki gave in to a smile. “Shoot, what you talkin’ ’bout? That fool thinks it’s sexy.”
Bree laughed. “Of course he does.” Her husband had always been head over heels in love with her. Onlookers might think he worked so much because he’d rather be there than at home, but Bree knew better. Providing for his family was the best way he knew how to love them.
Darn knot in her throat.
A city garbage truck braked six houses ahead of them and extended its metal claw toward a can at the curb. It’d be nice if her unruly emotions were as easy to dispose of.
Bree ran a fingernail over the top seam along her violin case.
“Security blanket?”
Bree looked up. “Huh?”
Nikki nodded at the case. “Sebastian carries his deck of cards with him everywhere, like it’s a safety zone for him. Or at least, an escape route.”
Lowering the case to her side, Bree scrolled through a mental Rolodex of comebacks to prove her wrong but ended up shaking her head instead. “I swung by the hospital this morning to play for Mrs. D’Angelo.”
“You did, did you?”
“Kill the singsong voice, Nik. Josh wasn’t even there, and his mom was still asleep, so I didn’t get to see her either.”
“But you went. On your own.” She tossed an arm across Bree’s shoulders. “As in, because you wanted to.”
Bree dug her elbow into Nikki’s side. “Don’t try to make this into something it’s not.”
“You mean, like the truth?”
No point in lying. An onslaught of sobriety stole all chances of evading it anyway.
Bree angled out from under Nikki’s arm. “Things are bad with his mom, aren’t they? That’s why he’s so set on making detective?” If she made associate concertmaster, maybe she could help with some of the in-home care expenses. He shouldn’t have to fight this alone.
“Or he has something to prove.” Nikki raised a shoulder. “How many cops you know stay on the beat for more than a year? Two, at most?”
Daniels glared, but Nikki didn’t backpedal. “You tell me it ain’t true, then maybe you can keep staring at me like that.”
Bree cringed. If they started fighting, what was she going to do? Wedge her violin between them?
The trash truck clanked its claw around the next closest garbage can. Crying from inside Nikki’s house sent a blended look of exhaustion and frustration across her face. “Great. Sebastian was just starting to calm down.”
Bree followed her to the porch, Daniels taking up the rear.
“He hasn’t come out of his room since the shooting. Keeps his hands over his ears, like he’s afraid he’ll hear gunshots again if he lets go. Now, every little noise sets him off.”
No mistaking the heartache in her voice, the helplessness. It burrowed straight through Bree’s rib cage in a failing search for the right thing to say.
“Give me a minute. Make yourself at home.”
While Nikki disappeared down the hall to Sebastian’s bedroom, Bree and Daniels sat opposite each other in the compact living room. Nikki and Bosco had redecorated her parents’ place and made it their own, but it still carried the feel Bree had grown up with.
She laid her case on the cushion and glanced at a corner bookshelf with pictures from early high school when they swore they were cool enough to start a band. They were going to change the city through music. Take over the streets and drive out all the gangs.
Until reality drove out daydreams instead.
“I can’t believe she still has those,” she said more to herself.
Daniels strolled toward a group photo. “Is that—?”
“Josh. All 130 pounds of him.” She chuckled at the image.
“He played the drums even then, huh?”
“Just be lucky you didn’t know him when he was first learning.”
“Copy that.” For the first time since Bree’d met her, Daniels laughed. “Who’s the girl with the guitar?”
“Our friend Cassidy, the lyric writer of the group.”
“Ah. And let me guess, D’Angelo was going to be the manager.”
“Good call.”
“You don’t ride with someone for three years without getting to know them—better than you ever wanted to.” The humor in her voice ruled out any intention of trying to take a jab, but Bree still had to wrestle the arrow out of her ribs.
Daniels and Josh were close. They had to be. Long hours, late nights, physical dangers heightening their emotional connection. She’d be naive to think that kind of bond didn’t eventually form heart ties, even with boundaries in place.
Bree traced the case’s top bracket. If she could lock the thought away, she would. Truth was, she had no right to be jealous. No right to have tossed and turned all night, playing back these few days with Josh as if that’d make them last.
Nikki was right. She’d let herself be drawn in again. Let herself feel. Ache.
A wail tunneled down the hall in an echo of her own turmoil.
“Worth a try, right?” Daniels said, apparently continuing a conversation Bree had missed while lost in thought.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Your violin. My sister swears by music therapy.” She nodded from the case down the hall in a visible effort to connect the dots Bree was missing.
“You want me to play for Sebastian?”
“Just try it from right there. See what happens.”
With slight uncertainty, Bree withdrew her violin, tightened the bow, and drew it across the rosin. The least she could do was pray the music might help in some way.
The longer she played, the f
urther she lost herself in the feel of the strings and the resonance of the vibrato. One with the song, her heart mingled with the tempo until the waves inside her fully subsided. What she’d give to stay right here.
She left her arm in the air after the last note and simply breathed.
When she finally opened her eyes, she almost jumped at the sight of Sebastian sitting directly in front of her on the carpet. Legs tucked under each other, hands in his lap, he held the same fascination she always had with an instrument that’d felt more like a friend all her life.
As soon as Bree lowered her arms, Sebastian flung his hands back over his ears. She looked from Daniels to Nikki, standing in the doorway, and back to Sebastian. “Do you want me to keep playing?”
He inched one hand from his ear to the bow and gently steered it to the strings.
Daniels flashed her a what-did-I-tell-you look.
Smiling in concession, Bree began another song.
One bar in, Sebastian slowly uncovered his ears again. His eyes followed the bow’s fluid stride, forming yet another kind of heart tie Bree knew was impossible to deny. Seeing his face—the joy, intrigue—lit something inside her she couldn’t place. Something that stirred tears dangerously close to the surface.
A ringtone from across the room intercepted her reaction and drew her attention to Daniels standing up to take the call. Bree didn’t need to see the screen to know it was Josh. Her demeanor had already made that clear. Along with the fact that something else was wrong.
What now?
Beside the window, she nodded to Bree and mouthed, “Time to go.”
Bree still had an hour before her rehearsal, but she didn’t argue. What if Nikki was right about it being a mistake to come here? She wanted to be a good friend, not put them in danger. She clamped down the brackets on her case and hedged back the thought of dragging people she loved through anything else.
Two steps forward, and Sebastian’s wary stare stole her focus. She wouldn’t let her wayward emotions rob him of the peace he’d just gained. Tucking it all away, she gave his hair a gentle rub. “I’ll come play again soon,” she whispered. “Till then, I have the next best thing.” She gave him a clandestine wink before handing Nikki a copy of the latest Hilary Hahn album.
Still Falling (Home In You #0) Page 7