Never Die Alone

“Shove it, Ke

“My pleasure,” he said, and sauntered off.

“God, he’s such an asshole.” She was perturbed, her truth-and-justice feathers seriously ruffled. But before she could launch into a diatribe about “old reporters not giving the new, i

Good.

Now he could absorb his discovery in private.

And absorb he did as he flipped from one page on his screen to another. After putting together his story on the homicide of Teri Gaines, he’d searched for information on his own family and dug up documents he had never seen before.

In truth, he’d always believed in “letting sleeping dogs lie” where his own history was concerned, having trusted that his father and grandparents had told him the truth about what had happened in the past. He’d been too young to remember his mother, though once, in the farmhouse attic, he’d come across a family album tucked between old books and bedding. Inside, he’d found a black-and-white photo of a wedding. His father, dressed in a dark, western-cut suit, stood next to a soulful-eyed girl in a white lace dress and veil. Their hands were clasped, rings evident as they stood under a simple altar.

Jase, being a rambunctious boy who accepted what grown-ups told him as fact and later, as a teenager who was always in trouble, had never really had too many questions about his mother or, for that matter, the brother who had died in Texas. He’d been too caught up in himself. It had seemed odd that Marian Selby Bridges, purportedly heartbroken at the loss of a son, had deserted her husband and two boys, leaving them to fend for themselves. However, his occasional questions about his mother had always evoked anger from his father or anguish from his grandmother. As an adult, he’d sided with his father in the belief that any woman who’d abandoned her kids and never once contacted them didn’t deserve the title of mother, and she certainly didn’t need to be located. He’d made a couple of lame-ass attempts to find her in his late twenties, but when the job had been more involved than he’d wanted, he’d let it go.

Was she alive? Dead? He’d been interested, yes. Hell, any kid would have questions about the woman who had given birth to him. But he hadn’t felt the urge to dig up any of the family dirt. Who knew what he would find? His mother’s rejection only confirmed that he didn’t need a woman who would walk out on him in a heartbeat, a woman who might require the same kind of care and attention that his father was now demanding.

Truth be told, Marian Bridges didn’t deserve to know the kids she’d left.

And then there had come the time when he’d met Aria

No more.

Today, things changed.

With the speed of the Internet, his co

But now, he knew for certain that the old man had lied. About Jase’s life. A web of lies that had grown with the years. Well, hell, what had Jase expected? He hit the Print button on several documents and tried to keep his rage in check.

It was time to call Edward Prescott Bridges on his crap.

Tossing the documents into his briefcase, he headed outside, but as he was walking out the glass doors, he nearly ran into Bria

“Hey! I was coming to see you,” she said. In sunglasses, her dark hair caught in a loose bun, she looked a little messy and sexy as hell as she stopped short and he stepped outside.

A woman with pale hair and a pissed expression was walking a dog past the building. Jase had to hop over the beagle’s tether to avoid tripping.

“Hey!” the blonde said irritably as beads of sweat glimmered over her compressed lips. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry.” He backed away just before he became entangled in the leash.

“Jerk! Some people!” She half-trotted briskly ahead, the dog straining and pulling her forward. “Get a life!”

“Still making friends,” Bria

“Always.” He watched the dog tug its owner around a corner at the end of the block, then turned his attention to Bria

Too late.

Jase felt drawn to her, wanted to know more about her. Because of Aria

“I think we need to talk, Bridges,” she said.

More than you know, he thought.

She added, “But probably, considering the heat and lack of privacy, not here in the street.”

Good idea.

“Your office?” she suggested.

Bad idea. The conference room was currently occupied, and his desk wasn’t exactly private. He cringed inside, thinking about Meri-Jo being so close, always with half an ear cocked in his direction, sometimes doing her own research on stories assigned to him, trying to one-up him. She was such a pain.

Bria

“No?”

“Too noisy, too much going on.” He offered a wry smile. “The Observer, it’s a happenin’ spot.”

“If you say so.”

For the moment, his fury at his father had abated, and his intention to drive home like a madman to righteously confront the old man seemed less important. It could wait. And maybe that was a good thing. Jase needed to cool off before he tore into Edward. Realizing he was still holding on to her elbow, he let go. “There’s a coffee shop across the street, at the corner. They make a mean cappuccino.”

“And that will be more private?” A skeptical eyebrow lifted over the rim of her sunglasses and her pink lips twitched a little.

“They’ve got a shady spot outside, an i

“Okay.”

“And if I remember correctly, I owe you a drink,” he said.

“That’s not how I remember it.”

He ignored her remark and said, “Play your cards right, I might even spring for a beignet.”

Now both eyebrows had lifted and her lips, a glossy pink, curved into a smile. “Big spender.”

“That’s me.” Her grin widened and he felt an unlikely pull on his heart.

“Fair enough, Bridges. You’re on!” With that she turned away and started toward the shop. Sunlight burnished her hair to a coppery sheen and the hem of her skirt swung above her knees as she walked. In two quick strides he fell into step with her and told himself he was being a fool and that his brother had been right. He should avoid her.

Too late. She glanced up, gave him an amused smile, and he was sunk. Aside from his attraction to her, he was intrigued about her change of heart. What had happened to make her trust him? As they stepped into the shop, he figured he was about to find out.

They ordered at a long counter that ran along one wall. Behind them, all the tables were taken by patrons sipping iced tea or coffee while plugged into the establishment’s free Wi-Fi. The buzz of conversation and coffee-making filled the space with a constant din. Jase took care of the bill, as promised. Once they’d picked up their drinks and food, he guided her through an open doorway to a veranda that looked as if it had once been an alley. Surrounded on two sides by the craggy brick exterior of century-old buildings, the narrow street had been gated with wrought iron on either end to form a courtyard. Potted palms and an indigo awning helped shade and cool the area.