Never Die Alone

“Sounds like a plan,” Ed agreed.

But Prescott was having none of it. “No way. He’s ‘slept it off’ too many times, and the problem never goes away; it just gets bigger.”

“I told you, I’m not a problem,” Ed demanded.

“Yeah, right, Dad.” Prescott walked to the fireplace, sat down on the hearth, and clasped his hands together, letting them drop between his knees. His breath came out in a groan as he tried to rein in his anger. “This is the end. I can’t have you showing up at my place, three sheets to the wind. Lena was still going ballistic when we left. Freaking out about the kids and their grandpa and all kinds of crap.” He set an angry scowl on his father. “This is it, Dad. As far as I’m concerned, treatment is your only option. If you don’t go with that, you stay the hell out of my life. And my wife’s life and my kids’ lives. That’s it.”

“And you?” Ed asked, twisting his neck to look at his younger son.

Jase couldn’t back down. “I have to be with Pres on this one, Dad.” His voice was a little less stern than Prescott’s. “You need help. End of story.”

“That’s right.” Prescott stood. “So you crash here tonight and sleep it off.” With a glance at Jase for confirmation, he added, “We’ll sort all this out in the morning.”

“Nothin’ to sort out,” Ed insisted.

But as Jase walked Prescott to the door, the old man was already stretching out on the couch.

“This isn’t over,” Pres said as he stepped outside. “Not by a long shot. I will not have him coming to my home and disrupting my family. And don’t give me any guff about him being family, too. This is not okay, Jase. And let’s face it, you and I, we have enough problems. I think I told you I ran into Bria

“Yeah, I think you even suggested I look her up.”

“Well, that was a mistake. A weak moment. Crap, what was I thinking? That it was over?” He met his brother’s eyes. “It’ll never be over,” he added grimly, and Jase felt a river of cold guilt run through his soul. “The smartest thing to do is to avoid her.”

His brother was right, of course. But . . . “Too late for that. I might have a business thing going with her.”

“Damn!” Prescott let out a long breath. “Just remember that she’s a complication we don’t need. Especially now that Dad’s here. He’s a loose ca

“Great,” Jase said under his breath. “Perfect.”

He locked the door behind his brother and walked back into the living room, stopping at a cupboard to pull out an old blanket and pillow. Dropping both onto the couch where his father was already snoring, he said, “Come on, Dad. Here ya go,” and tucked his old man in for the night, even pulling off Ed’s dusty cowboy boots, remnants of a more vital life lived long ago.

“Thanks, son,” the old man said without opening his eyes.

Jase clicked off the lights and heard, “I knew you was the one to keep. Seen it in your eyes.”

What? Jase turned and was about to say something when he heard Ed sawing logs again, his snoring ripping through the apartment. Whatever the old man had muttered, it was probably all muddled anyway. Nothing but the rantings of a wasted drunk. But still, it bothered him.

As Jase lay on his bed, hands stacked under his head, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered about the secrets the old man kept. There was the big one, of course, the one that bound the Bridges men together forever, but were there others?

Of course.

Everyone had secrets; he had only to look inward, at his own skeletons, to know how dark and vile they could be.

So what were Ed Bridges’s secrets?

I knew you was the one to keep.

Meaning what?

CHAPTER 22

Bria

“Morning,” she whispered groggily as she reached for the phone. Of course, it was Tanisha. “Hold on a sec,” she said to the cat. “I’m sure there’s some major drama that needs to be straightened out.” She yanked the phone from its charger and placed it against her ear. The digital readout on her clock read 7:15. Her first client of the day, the only one this morning, was scheduled for nine. Plenty of time to get ready.

But she could have used a little more sleep.

“Hello?” she said.

“Morning. Sorry to call so early.”

“It’s later than the last time.” As St. Ives hopped off the bed, Bria

“Have you heard from Enrique?”

St. Ives trotted through the open doorway to the sun-dappled garden. Shadows shifted across the flagstones and a squirrel in a high branch scolded.

“Enrique?” Bria

“He called me last night and you know he’s got a temper.”

That much was true. “And he called you, why?” Slowly the cobwebs in her mind were disappearing. She made her way to the kitchen.

“He was really upset about Selma’s daughters. Well, everyone was, I think, except maybe Desmond or Milo. Geez, those guys are made of stone. And if Roger had been there, he’d be the same. Trust me, that guy’s a piece of work. But then they all are, aren’t they? Men!”

Even in her blurry state, Bria

“So you were talking about Enrique?” In the kitchen, Bria

“Yeah, yeah, I’m tellin’ you, this really got to him, y’ know. Probably because of not ever really knowing what happened to Juan. The disappearance thing really bothers him.”

“I think it’s getting to all of us.”

“Good point. I know that’s what my dream was all about the night before. Anyway,” Tanisha continued as Bria

“With guns drawn, I suppose.”

“He’s into that.”

Several of the group were. Desmond had admitted he possessed a concealed weapons permit, Roger was big into the NRA, and Milo dressed in camouflage from head to toe. They all were quiet types, who listened more than shared, and Bria

“Give me a sec,” she said to Tanisha, then pushed the button on the coffee grinder. It screamed for half a minute as the blades whirled and chewed up the whole beans.

“Holy shit! What’s that?”

“My next pot of coffee. I grind my own, you know.”