The Call of Bravery

“You can come by the house.” The words were out before he could recall them. “You know I’m not in the old place.”

“I did know that. You sent me a check for part of the proceeds when you sold it.”

He had. Duncan had insisted on splitting what he made on their parents’ house, little though it was after the mortgage was paid out. Still, it was the closest thing any of them had to an inheritance from their worthless parents.

“You can meet my wife.”

“I meant to come to Niall’s wedding.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

This silence was a long one, and heavy with everything that hadn’t been said in the past decade. Or perhaps that was in his imagination.

“I was wounded,” Conall said finally.

Duncan’s reaction was visceral. It had been his greatest fear that one of these days he’d get a call from some higher-up at the DEA letting him know that they were very sorry, but his brother Conall had been killed in the line of duty. Niall was the one who talked to Conall from time to time, and he’d admitted he sometimes thought their youngest brother had a death wish. At the very least, he was a cold-blooded son of a bitch who lived for the adrenaline rush risk-taking gave him. Duncan wondered how much else he was capable of feeling.

If that wasn’t a chilling thought.

“You didn’t tell Niall.”

“I didn’t want to worry him. Especially right before his wedding.” Conall laughed. “Both of you married. Blows me away.”

“You know I have a baby daughter now.”

“You sent me a birth announcement.”

“Thanks for the congratulation.”

“Did you expect one?” His brother’s voice hardened.

“No.” Shit. He bent his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe hoped.” His own voice had come out rougher. “Whether you know it or not, I’ve missed you.”

It was so long before Conall responded, Duncan thought he’d lost him. No, I lost him twenty years ago, when I had to rein him in. Become the father he didn’t want.

“You think I don’t know what you did for us?” Tension threaded every word. “Of course I do. That doesn’t mean I have to like you.”

God. Damn. Duncan hadn’t hurt like this in a long time, not since he’d almost lost Jane before he could even tell her he loved her. He had to swallow before he could say with relative calm, “No, it doesn’t.”

“Oh, hell.” Conall sounded ragged. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s okay.”

“Listen, I have to talk to you about this investigation. Can we keep it to that?”

“Sure. Do you want to have coffee somewhere? Or shall we meet up on a deserted road?” he added dryly.

“No. It would look best if I do come to your house. Gives me an excuse to be in town.”

That ticked Duncan off some. Good to know he was worth something to this brother he’d raised from age twelve on.

“Fine.” He gave Conall his address. “Jane and I don’t go out much. I’m home by six most nights.”

“I’ll make it this evening.”

“Fine,” he said again, and hung up the phone.

He sat there for a long time, unable to decide how he felt about Conall’s call. Or maybe what he couldn’t decide was which emotion was paramount. Anger? Hurt? Resentment? Or the astonished gratitude that might even have been happiness, because he’d heard Conall’s voice again. He was going to see him.

Tonight.

He looked at the computer monitor and realized there was no way in hell he could concentrate on impoundment procedures now.

What he was going to do was take an extra early lunch and go spend time with his wife and baby girl.

* * *

CALLING NIALL WAS ANTICLIMACTIC. Conall almost didn’t, almost put it off until tomorrow. But he didn’t want his middle brother to hear from Duncan that he was in town. He and Niall had been…friends, maybe, for too long. Niall was the only family Conall had accepted after he left home. It was bad enough that Niall had cooled toward him since his wedding last fall. The one Conall had failed to show for.

He didn’t have to identify himself. Niall listened in silence to his brief explanation of his presence in Stimson.

“You’re in town” was said in disbelief.

“Weird but true.” He was actually sitting outside on Lia’s porch, on an Adirondack chair painted a glossy, cherry red.

“Does Duncan know?”

“Yes.”

Niall made a sound that might have been a laugh, might have been a grunt. “You planning to meet with him face-to-face?”

“I’m going by his place tonight. If anybody hears I’m in town, they need to think it’s to see the two of you. There can’t be any talk about this operation.”

“You’ll meet Jane.”

“Yeah.” Conall made himself say it. “I want to meet your Rowan, too.”

“I haven’t told you she’s pregnant. We, uh, didn’t want our kids too far apart in age.”

Our kids. He must be talking about Rowan’s two. And a baby. Another little MacLachlan. This was getting surreal, Conall thought. His brothers had gone and turned into average joes. How had that happened?

“I’m glad for you,” he made himself say, “if that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.”

No hesitation. The coolness was still there, too, the one he’d heard ever since he called to apologize for ducking out on the wedding. He’d told himself Niall wouldn’t give a damn if he wasn’t there, but Conall knew even then he’d lied to himself. He hadn’t ever been the one who’d made the effort to stay in touch, although Niall and he had gotten close after their father went to prison and their mother walked out on them. After Duncan sacrificed too damn much for them and turned into a tyrant. No, Niall was the one who had made the calls in the first few years. Who’d flown to wherever Conall was a few times. The one who seemed to need the connection.

Sitting here on the porch, gazing sightlessly at the old barn and the pasture and woods that lay beyond it, Conall had an uncomfortable insight.