Busted

He jerked Travis forward.

The pain that split through Trey’s side had him stumbling back, letting go of his brother’s shirt. Travis staggered, his hand flying out as he fought for his balance. Trey caught him, steadied him.

“You son of a bitch,” he said, guiding Travis over to the bed. “Don’t give me this shit that you’ve just had a rough few weeks at work. And I don’t want to hear that you’ve been sick, either.”

Mentally, he kicked his own ass for forgetting, because he knew something had been wrong. He knew . . . and his anger, his frustration had just made him lose sight of that.

Travis didn’t say anything as Trey helped him onto the bed, his face hard as stone, and when Trey straightened, his twin’s eyes were unreadable. He didn’t even look at Trey for long before he jerked his eyes away, staring at some point on the wall.

Trey clenched his jaw, fighting for control. It wasn’t coming. He breathed in through his nose, blew it out. Tried it again, but nothing was clearing the fog from his head. There was still a dull throb of pain in his side, and he glanced at his brother, eyes instinctively going to the same area on Travis.

For the first few seconds, he wasn’t even sure what he was staring at.

He figured it out about the same time Travis realized there was a problem.

Travis went to twist away at the same time Trey shot out a hand, catching the hem of his brother’s faded gray T-shirt. “It’s nothing—” Travis tried to say.

“Shut the fuck up or I’m going to put you flat on your ass,” Trey warned. “And right now, I think we both know I can.”

*   *   *

Actually, that wasn’t true. Travis stared into his twin’s eyes, debated on whether or not to just get the hell out of there, leave Norfolk for a while, disappear, but that wasn’t the answer.

No, Trey couldn’t put him on his ass.

But in his condition, he’d have to hurt his twin.

The one thing he could never do.

Swearing, he smacked Trey’s hands away. “Let me up. I’ll show you, as long as you keep your mouth shut.”

Trey looked like he wanted to argue—no. He did want to argue.

“You keep it quiet,” Travis warned. “I’m not in trouble. There’s nothing wrong. But I know how this is going to look and I don’t need everybody freaking out.”

Trey’s eyes narrowed. “If you think I’m not aware of the fact that you’ve been up to some weird shit, then you’re not giving me much credit. Show me what the hell is wrong. Then we’ll discuss it.”

It was the best he was going to get. He’d managed to tear stitches open and he was bleeding—thanks to the hard-ass a few feet away. He forgot sometimes—they looked so much alike and shared a bond nobody could understand, and yet, they were so completely different. Except . . . not. Trey, in his own way, was every bit the same stubborn bastard Travis was.

And Travis had made the serious mistake of forgetting that.

Look where it had put him.

He needed to get the wound redressed and bandaged and he needed one of those lousy painkillers, too. With a grimace, he caught the shirt and worked it up.

Trey’s low hiss had him closing his eyes.

It was a damn good thing he was getting out.

He’d never be able to keep this up now, and his brother wouldn’t let it rest until he had answers.

Holding the shirt with its spotty blood stain, he looked at Trey and waited.

For the longest time, Trey just stared. Then he turned away. “I guess this is one of those things you’re not going to explain to me, isn’t it?”

Travis knew better than to say anything.

Trey just nodded. “Okay. Let’s try this again.”

Exhausted already, Travis glared at his twin’s back even as he tried to figure what he could say. The answer was next to nothing. It would piss Trey off, too, but Travis didn’t know how he could explain the bullet hole in his side. It didn’t look so much like a bullet hole now, of course, and even if it did, it wasn’t like his brother had a lot of experience with that—

“Ressa’s cousin is in jail. She’s had some trouble with the cops, too. I don’t think I even know half of what’s going on. Now . . . you want to tell me how you already know about it?”

Trey turned as he spoke and the question caught Travis off guard so he wasn’t able to hide his reaction in time.

And his twin saw it on his face.

He didn’t even have to say anything. They’d never been able to lie to each other, not worth shit. So instead of trying, he just lifted his shoulder—the one not on his injured side—but it still had that awful pain lurching through him.

“Just how do you know, Travis? Is that something a forensic accountant is typically going to do? Go digging around in the background of a girl his brother dates?”

Travis shrugged again.

“Nice answer. Let’s try this one—does the typical forensic accountant even now where to start to go digging about that? You didn’t even know I was dating anybody—hell, not all that long ago, I wasn’t dating anybody.”

“You’ve been together since I got here,” Travis said softly. And he could have known within a couple hours of that vague warning. She’d all but challenged him, and because he’d known it would eat at him until he knew, he’d looked. He’d spent the past few days brooding over it, too. Brooding, debating . . . thinking. And he’d come to the exact same conclusion he suspected his brother would.

Now he didn’t have the kind of feelings for Ressa that Trey did, but if he was in Trey’s shoes?

He wouldn’t give a damn.

He’d seen what it was like—with his parents, with Zach and Abby—and before he’d lost her, with Trey and Aliesha. Trey knew what it felt like to have those kind of feelings.

“What does it matter anyway?” he asked. “It’s not like it’s going to change anything for you. You’re already gone over on her. Anybody with eyes can see that.”

“No.” The ice in Trey’s eyes didn’t fade. “It doesn’t change anything.”

Then he blew out a breath and leaned back against the wall. “Complicate things? Well, yeah, that’s probably going to happen, but . . . no. It doesn’t change what I feel.” He slanted a look at his twin. “And not the issue. I just want to know how you know. And why you bothered to even go looking—and how the fuck you even knew to look . . . son of a bitch.”

Trey turned away and shoved a hand through his hair.

Travis felt the tension knot inside him, while in the back of his mind, something buzzed—no. Clicked. A piece of a puzzle falling into place, a sensation he knew all too well. But he wasn’t the one who’d figured something out. Lowering his gaze, he stared at the bloody bandage with its ever growing stain of red.

“You knew something that day, didn’t you?” Trey murmured, turning back to look at him. “She acted . . . off. Like something was bugging her off and on half the day—it was you, wasn’t it?”

Aw, shit. “Look, Trey—”

“Answer me!” The shout rang through the house, catching both of them off guard.

But Trey didn’t back down, he came across the floor, fury in every line of his body. “How in the hell did you even know to dig up anything about her? You didn’t even know her name until that day—or you shouldn’t have.”

“I didn’t.” Travis could say that much, honestly. “I didn’t . . .”

He stopped, fumbling for anything he could say. He’d told too many lies, given too many half truths. Even the lies of omission—did it even matter that he was doing his job? Trying to . . . trying to what?

That small voice nagged at him, more and more. The one that had made him realize he was done.

Beyond done.

And he couldn’t lie here. Not to Trey, not anymore. “Look, I didn’t know anything about Ressa until you introduced me to her.”

He’d thought about digging into her background, yeah. But he hadn’t. And now he could tell his brother the truth. Looking Trey dead in the eye, he gave his twin what precious little honesty he could these days. “I wouldn’t have gone digging around for any information but she . . .”