Bulletproof Hearts

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter One

Day One—Morning

Watching the strangers scurry past her brother’s grave, Abby Trevor felt blessedly numb everywhere…except her feet. The designer shoes she’d bought on a whim last spring with Jason hurt like crazy and pain was the only thing keeping her focused. The pinch in her right instep reminded her of the day she and her brother had shopped themselves silly in New York. At the moment that needle-like sensation was the way she knew the coffin in front of her was not some hideous nightmare as the rain fell in sheets from the dark morning sky.

If she let herself believe for one second the sea of black umbrellas around her was a dream, she’d stand up, kick off those wretched shoes and run screaming from the drowning cemetery. That would certainly set the tongues to wagging, especially here in Washington, D.C.

But she wouldn’t disgrace her brother or his memory that way. Her mama’s Southern belle training was too in-grained in her, despite the fact that she was one thousand miles from the Mississippi Delta and the small town that had been the cradle of her genteel upbringing.

Still, that home training—and her uncomfortable shoes—kept Abby’s butt firmly planted in the soggy funeral home seat under the green awning. She’d never be able to stand the sight or scent of stargazer lilies again. Thunder rumbled in the distance, serving as another reminder that despite the surreal atmosphere, this was no dream.

Jason was dead. Killed by a hit-and-run driver while crossing the street on his lunch hour. D.C. police were still looking for the driver.

God, Jason, what happened?

She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the rain was coming down in biblical proportions and almost everyone was gone. She wouldn’t be surprised to see frogs falling from the sky soon. She felt nearly alone in the world. Nearly.

Estranged relatives in Mississippi didn’t count. But Karen Weathers did. Even if her beloved mentor was in a nursing home in Dallas. Abby tried to imagine herself in happier days sitting in her old college professor’s office at Southern Methodist University sipping tea and arguing about William Faulkner, anything to mentally take herself away from her present location. It didn’t work. She was too aware of the rain. The overpowering scent of the lilies. The pain in her feet. And the temptation to run screaming from it all.

“Miss Trevor, I’m terribly sorry for your loss. Your brother will be missed.” The deep voice had a rich Irish lilt to it.

The speaker was tall, wore a trench coat and held a massive golf umbrella against the dreary weather. Rain splattered his outstretched hand but she reached to take it anyway. His grasp was warm and wet.

“My name’s Abigail but everyone calls me Abby.” She glanced up with her practiced “polite funeral smile” in place only to get a distinct jolt when she stared into unusual blue-green eyes that reminded her of dark Caribbean waters that could change to a deep emerald when the light hit just so. She took a moment longer to study the man’s Cary Grant cleft chin and high cheekbones. But that’s where all similarity to her favorite movie star ended.

His aristocratic nose had been broken somewhere in the past and his dark hair, misted by the rain, was cut in a longer variation of a military “high and tight.” The combination made him a bit dangerous looking, but his air was open and friendly. Overall, the nose kept him from being too pretty, otherwise he would have looked like a chiseled European model.

Somewhere in her perusal she found her voice again, glad to be shaken from her pity party and wild thoughts of running barefoot like a banshee from the cemetery. His grip was firm and he had a bandage on his index finger. She wondered what had happened to it.

She let go of his hand and asked, “How did you know Jason?”

“By reputation, initially. I was a great admirer of his work. My name is Shaun Logan. We became…friends later.”

An admirer of Jason’s work.

What a strange thing to say. She didn’t think her brother’s work was necessarily well-known. Jason was a concept development engineer, albeit a good one, for Zip Technologies. Zip Tech for short. A cyber-security start-up. And now the man was staring back at her in the oddest way. She had a feeling she was missing something significant.

She’d never thought of Jason as having admirers, unless… Ah, color her embarrassed. Of course.

Her brother was gay. And this lovely gentleman must be as well. Okay, so she’d missed that entirely. She’d been too busy checking him out herself.

“I had no idea.” That covered such a multitude of things about her brother—his love life and her present gaffe.

Jason had been very open about his choices but not his lovers. And Abby had adored him—not judging, even when her parents had, to their own detriment.

She swallowed past the emotion clogging her throat. “Thank you for coming today. I appreciate it. I didn’t know many of his…friends.”

“’Tis my honor to be here. I only wish we could be meeting under more pleasant circumstances.” His accent was like sliding into a warm comfortable coat on a cold day.

“Your brother was quite famous in the high-tech world,” Shaun continued.

She shook her head, still at a loss to reconcile the Jason she’d known and to understand this aspect of his work.

“It’s not something you would have been aware of if you weren’t in the industry, especially as his sister. You just loved him for himself, aye?”

Again, Abby swallowed hard as sudden scalding tears burned the corners of her eyes. There were so many things she didn’t know about Jason’s life. Had he told this man all the details?

She sighed. “Jason never shared much with me about his job. It was so proprietary.”

He nodded and offered her a neatly pressed handkerchief from his coat pocket. “Everyone at Zip Tech signs a nondisclosure agreement. Applies to family members, as well.”

“Did he speak with you about his work?” she asked.

“Only in the most general of terms. He worked on some very interesting projects.”

Abby tilted her head. That voice. Shaun Logan could charm snakes with it. She’d be completely intimidated if he wasn’t gay. She looked directly at him and smiled. “Jason told me a little about the new security project—Zip-Net, I believe it’s called? He was thrilled and so hopeful for the direction of the company. I can’t quite believe he won’t be here to—”

She stopped. She couldn’t think about that now or she’d never make it through everything she had to do today and the rest of this week.

“It’s an exciting concept. Everyone at Zip Tech is optimistic about the future and they owe your brother a great deal,” said Shaun. “He was a wonderful man.”

“He was a pretty terrific brother, too.” She bowed her head and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. It smelled like the same fabric softener she used herself. She was struck by the incongruity of that as she felt Shaun’s hand on her shoulder.

“If there’s anything I can do,” he murmured.

She looked up. There was nothing to be done now but grieve, and there would be time for that later, in private.

“I’d missed several of his calls lately. I assumed he was traveling. We’d been playing phone tag for a couple of weeks and I hadn’t been able to catch up with him.” Or hear about who he was seeing?

“Right. He was traveling with lab testing all last month.”

“I wondered why we kept missing each other.” She thought of Jason’s garbled voice-mail message a few days ago. She’d only caught the beginning because the connection was so bad. Buttercup, how are you?

She’d assumed his call was more decompressing about his schedule. While he couldn’t tell her much about his actual work, he could bitch about the insane deadlines of a start-up company and the unique personalities involved—all while managing to make it sound entertaining. That was Jason. And that information wasn’t proprietary. She’d always been willing to listen. He’d certainly listened to her enough.

She fervently hoped Jason had had others to listen as well and to give advice. Others perhaps like Shaun? He certainly seemed to know her brother.

Could he tell her more about Jason? They were alone now in the cemetery under the awning. Everyone had fled the rain except for the funeral director and the limo driver. She dove in without really thinking it through, especially as she assumed he “hit for the other team” so to speak.

“I won’t keep you any longer in this horrible rain, but I’ve really enjoyed talking with you about Jason’s work. I’d like to learn more about that part of his life. Do you have a business card? Could I perhaps email you?” she asked.

He reached into his pocket and handed her one. “Nothing would please me more.”