Falling For The Brother

Her mouth twisted, and he remembered how it had tasted—a combination of beer and sweetness.

“He never would have done that.”

Her defense of his brother didn’t surprise him all that much. If the situation were reversed, he might do the same. Bruce had a way about him that compelled people to like him. To trust him. And even when, like Mason, you were forced to see his other side, you still loved him. Because he wasn’t a mean or malicious man. He was, at his core, a needy one.

“On the contrary, he most certainly would have.” And it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d stabbed Mason. It just would’ve been the worst.

“He’d have had to out me, too. And himself.”

Mason almost laughed, but not out of humor. “It isn’t like he would’ve taken a mic and announced the news,” he said. “Or even told the whole story. His version would’ve been more along the lines of an emotional aside to my father, where he was the total victim and where I got you drunk and then slept with you after you passed out.”

“And you don’t think I’d have stood up for you? Told the truth? You think I would have let it stay at that?”

He stared at her. “What I think is that you never would’ve known,” he said. “You didn’t know about the agreement...” Her stricken look bothered him. “My father certainly wouldn’t have told you. I just wouldn’t have been welcome anymore.”

“Your father would never have turned his back on you, Mason. Even I know that.”

She was right. To a point. “He’d see me, talk to me, sure. He’d definitely come running if I called in need.” Just as he would for Bruce. It was their way. “But any family invitations...they’d have stopped. Him calling to catch up, or to tell me one of his infamous stupid jokes...that would’ve stopped.”

If she didn’t realize by now how insidious Bruce could be with his twisting of truths, maybe she never would. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to rely on her for help. All he knew was, he had to try.

“And it wouldn’t have ended with my dad,” he said. “If Bruce needed support for something else, he’d drop a word in someone else’s ear at the pertinent time.” Bruce had been playing his parents against him since elementary school. Because Mason’s footsteps had been too big to fit him. Because Bruce, growing up in Mason’s shadow, had never felt he had a chance to become something great on his own. He’d developed a need to have everyone love him the most. A sense of competitiveness. Mason had understood that back then. And on the whole, Bruce’s manipulations had been pretty harmless.

Until Harper. At least as far as he knew.

“How do you know he didn’t do it, anyway? Tell people what we did?”

“I don’t.” At this point, Mason hoped he had. Hoped he’d be able to dig up enough proof of Bruce’s duplicity to help Gram get healthy again. To either show her what was really happening...or to expose Bruce to the authorities. He’d prefer the former, but if he had to involve the authorities, then he would. He wasn’t going to see his little brother kill his grandmother. Wasn’t going to lose Gram that way. And most certainly didn’t want his brother to be guilty of murder.

“I was sorry...to hear that Oscar died.”

He nodded. He wanted to ask about her parents, but didn’t.

He wanted to ask about Brianna, too. Wanted to know what the little girl had to say about visiting her father. The child was four—and precocious. She might have insights that would help them get the proof they needed to save Gram, and get Bruce the counselling he needed before it was too late. He needed access to Brianna, but had to get her mother on board first. He could only talk to Brianna if Harper approved.

“So...you’re telling me this is for real? That you really think Bruce broke Miriam’s arm?”

Among other things.

He nodded. “And I don’t think it’s the first time.”

“Lila said as much. But if you thought this was happening, why didn’t you do something about it sooner? It’s not like you’re not without power yourself, Mason. My God, you work with the FBI! With police departments and crime labs all over the country. You’ve got a hell of a lot more clout than an undercover cop in Albina, California.”

He’d actually been FBI for a time. Until his skills had been needed in so many other places. He’d been offered the high government clearance he’d needed to work where he was needed as a private crime scene investigator—even when it meant rebuilding a crime scene from old evidence.

“In the first place, I didn’t know about the previous injuries until last night. And in the second, Bruce has clout with Gram,” he told her, “and she insists he’s not hurting her.”

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_246ab98b-2636-5910-a8eb-fe4c338bbd4a)

HARPER NEEDED TO sit down. To have a few minutes without Mason’s energy bouncing around the walls of her office.

But she had a job to do. That came first. And, at the moment, he was it.

“I’m just getting up to speed on this,” she said now, needing to be done with personal conversation. She’d left the Thomas family. Other than accommodating Bruce’s visitations requests, she couldn’t allow herself to go back.

Brianna. She stared at Mason.

“You don’t think he... I mean, if you really think Bruce did this...” She shook her head. “There’s no way he could have.”

Now she sounded like any number of their residents. Her career was in the domestic violence field. She was fully versed on abusers’ needs to control their victims, and also understood abusers having the ability to mentally and emotionally control their victims even after their ability to do so physically had been contained.

“Up until a month ago, Brianna was in that house every other weekend.”

Thinking of the little blond burst of energy who took up every single nonworking moment of her life, Harper panicked. What if...

No! She would’ve known. Bruce had never, ever shown any sign of physical aggression with their daughter. He...

She glanced at Mason. “He doesn’t even spank her,” she said.

“Has she ever shown any indication of distress when you get her back? Any falls or bruises or other injuries?”

“No, of course not!” She was a cop, for heaven’s sake! Employed at a women’s shelter. She knew what to look for. And even if she hadn’t... She’d protect Brianna with her life.

Her baby girl was her life.

“How about emotionally? Is she more clingy? Does she have nightmares? Does she ever resist going back there? Or say she doesn’t want to see her dad?”

She shook her head, but stopped to think, hard, in case she was missing something. Looking back over almost four years of visits... “She was only three months old when we got divorced.”

Now was not the time to go into all of that.

“But...” She turned to Mason, still traveling back in her memory. “I mean, it’s not like I can remember every single time I’ve picked her up, but she’s always happy to see me, then hugs him goodbye, gives him her special daddy kiss on the cheek and tells him she’ll see him later.”

“What about when she misbehaves? Does she talk about him punishing her?”

“She doesn’t really get into trouble.”

He rolled his eyes and she shrugged. “I know, I know, the proud parent, right? But she doesn’t, Mason. She’s like this adult walking around in a little body. She tells you she wants to do something and you tell her no, and she looks at you and asks why. If you give her a valid reason, she says okay. I’m not exaggerating.”

“Every kid has tantrums now and then.”

“Yeah, she used to hold her breath until she passed out when she wanted to get her way. Back during the terrible twos.” She grinned.

He looked horrified. “I’d say that’s misbehaving! What did you do?”

“Panicked the first time. Then I called her pediatrician. He told me to let her pass out. He said she’d start breathing again and if I didn’t make a big deal out of it, she’d soon learn that it accomplished nothing.”

“Was he right?”