6
For a brief periodin ancient Persia, they deemed it legal to commit fratricide for the greater good of the Ottoman Empire.
Zeke Blackwell reflected on this fact as he paced the FBI’s conference room, waiting for his brother, Ash, to show his pretty face.
He glanced at his watch.
8:59 a.m.
The moment felt too reminiscent of two weeks ago, when he’d sat alone in a fancy restaurant, waiting for Ash to arrive so they could finally clear the rotten air between them—and catching his first glimpse of a redheaded woman who would gift him with the best birthday ever.
He shook his head, refusing to go there while standing in enemy territory. He didn’t know why the hell Ash had summoned him to Asheville or why he’d fucking complied, but if his big brother didn’t appear in the next thirty seconds, his reasons would remain a mystery.
Once again, he took in the eighty-plus-inch display attached to the far wall with the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s logo emblazoned on the screen.
Fidelity-Bravery-Integrity
“Fidelity, my ass.” Even after three years, Ash's defection to the FBI still rankled.
Ash had led the family business for several years after their father had passed away—until he hadn’t. One day, everything slogged along like normal and the next day, his brother announced he was deserting the family business to become a G-man. The only person who hadn’t appeared surprised by the news was Grams.
Whether from her keen, almost eerie intuition, or because Ash had confided in her, he didn’t know, but something inside Zeke had shattered that day. Something he had yet to reclaim in the years since Ash left.
How could he have not known that the brother he damn near worshiped wanted to work for the feds? Wanted out of the family business?
He’d known his brother wasn’t passionate about repo work—who the hell was? But hating it enough to leave? He hadn’t seen that coming.
In hindsight, Ash’s refusal to implement any of Zeke’s ideas to enhance the company made sense. Ash hadn’t wanted to get in any deeper. Or maybe he’d gone into lame duck mode and didn’t care enough to try.
Why hadn’t Ash confided in him? Prepared him for the inevitable disappointment, rather than dumping a ton load of shit on him at the last minute?
Every childhood memory he possessed included Ash. Zeke recalled the time when a neighbor boy had come up behind him and swiped his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream cone. While he’d wailed his frustration, Ash had taken off after the thief and retrieved his cone.
Without the ice cream.
Like any ungrateful little brother, he’d stamped his feet and blamed Ash for the loss.
In retaliation, his brother had eaten the waffle cone while laughing at Zeke’s new tantrum. Which made him want to end his big brother.
The meeting room door opened, and Ash stepped inside, carrying a thick file folder. He eyed Zeke’s jeans and T-shirt with a frown.
“Glad to see you dressed for the occasion,” Ash said with a shake of his head. “As usual.”
“I hit my dress-up quota for the year a couple of weeks ago. Too bad you didn’t stick around to enjoy—”
A woman with her hair pulled back in a flawless ponytail, wearing business attire similar to Ash’s, entered behind his brother. Zeke blinked in rapid succession before his gaze banked down to her shoes. This pair of black shoes had a shinier finish and a tiny silver buckle on top, but still sensible.
Liv.
Where irritation sat heavy in his chest seconds ago, something more powerful, lighter, took its place. Of its own volition, his face pulled into a grin. He hadn’t thought he’d ever see her again. But here she was, standing in front of him.
Staring at him with neither surprise nor joy nor recognition.
Something clunked in his torso. He thought it might have been his heart falling, but he was too preoccupied willing Liv to acknowledge him.
He got nothing from her. Absolutely nothing. His smile faded. Vaporized as if it had never been.
Irritation returned. And maybe a keg of hurt.