“No.”
“If I had a brother like you, I don’t think I’d bring my skinny little boyfriends home to roast marshmallows by your bonfire either.”
A glimmer of something like amusement flits across his face, but he quickly goes back to the scary mask.
He grunts. “Especially the kinds of assholes she dates.”
“Okay, so this is important information to note if I’m going to help you with this investigation. Little sis dates assholes.”
He nods. We’ve left the shore and are heading into the heart of the city. I love Salem, with its aged houses and history. As we leave the shore, we draw closer to the historical parts of Salem—the Witch House, other museums, and the House of the Seven Gables.
“Skylar wrote to me when I was stationed in Europe and didn’t travel much. Didn’t like coming home, didn’t prioritize it.”
Why didn’t he like coming home? My radar pings again, adding to my growing list of things I need to find out about Cain Master.
“Well, I know how that goes,” I say softly, almost to myself. I do. Some of us would give anything to never come home again. “You and Skylar. How close are you?”
“Pretty close. She wrote to me constantly when she was a kid and I was deployed. Slowed when she got older, but I still have those letters.”
I nod.
“Right. When I got back… she lived at my place for a time. She got tired of finding my mom passed out on the couch or her flavor of the week in her bedroom. I was beyond done with it. She stayed here a few months. She needed some structure, guidance. I gave her that.”
Yeah, I bet he’s good at giving people structure and…guidance. I stifle a shiver.
I note how he chooses his words carefully but doesn’t sugarcoat a thing, a master at precision in his speech.
“She wanted to date.” He spits out the words like they’re distasteful. “She was old enough to. Let’s just say we didn’t see eye to eye when it came to who she chose to date.”
I nod. “Let me piece this together, then. She’s raised by a mom who let her do whatever she wanted. Doesn’t get what she needs. You went off and enlisted which gave you the structure and accountability you needed. She had none of that, so when you came back, you did your best to provide that for her.” He nods. “She wasn’t too fond of your rules and expectations, but she was maybe grateful for a roof over her head and a large, scary big brother who’d keep her safe.”
He draws in his breath with practiced patience and gives me a look I can only classify as a warning. “Yeah.”
“So she rebelled. On the one hand, wanted your protection and everything you could offer, but on the other, didn’t like being treated like a child and wanted you to damn well know that.”
“Right.”
“So at the first chance she got, when her friends got an apartment, she took off. Maybe checked in with you from time to time but didn’t do much more than that.”
“Very good, Miss Price.”
“I got the basics then.”
“Enough chitchat. That more or less brings you up to speed. Two boyfriends ago, she dated a guy who told me, I shit you not, that he was leaving that night to go become a vampire. And the next one after that came wearing a fucking cape and black boots. In July.” Something tells me he wouldn’t forgive black boots and a cape even in the dead of winter.
“We do live in Salem.”
He huffs out a breath.
“And… let me guess… she didn’t bring anyone else to see you after that?”
He grunts like a caveman. I’d pay good money to hear what he said to those two boyfriends.
“Cape. Boots. Salem. Is your sister involved in anything with witchcraft? Wiccan?”
His back goes so rigid, I could trace a straight line from the top of his spine to his seat. “Yeah.”
But he doesn’t offer any other details.
“How so?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is she actually Wiccan?”
I watch his reaction. He looks like he wants to wince, but he catches himself. Instead, his fingers tighten on the wheel, his knuckles white. He does not like that his sister’s involved with the crowd she is, not one little bit.
“Involved in witchcraft?” He makes a face like he just ate a rotten apple. “She’s got friends that do it, but…”
Aww. Is the big bad alpha too scared to admit his sister’s involved in something outside his control?
“Are you in denial about her involvement, Cain?”
His eyes narrow on the road ahead of him, but he still manages to give me a brief sidelong look. “Be careful, Miss Price.”
Something in me thrills at the warning he gives me, my skin prickling with heat. His voice has dropped, and is it my imagination, or has the inside of this car just heated up about twenty degrees?