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“In a day or two,” Rick said. He stepped aside so his brothers could enter. As they moved down the hallway, he added, “I want to dig just a little deeper. Something doesn’t seem quite right.”
“Is that Mexican I smell?” Deke asked.
“Georgia brought food.”
“Did she cook it?” Alex asked.
“No,” Rick said.
The relief on his brothers’ faces almost made him smile. This moment was the most normal the three Morgan brothers had had in so long. Homicide and jokes about Georgia’s cooking . . . didn’t get better than that. “She figured we’d behave with food on the table.”
“She has a short memory,” Alex said.
Rick let the comment slide and to Deke asked, “How is Rachel?”
Deke’s expression softened in a way it had never done before. “Working on another case and determined to save all the downtrodden in the world.”
Rachel’s intensity reminded him of Jenna. The women were different in many ways but both carried with them a drive that set them apart from most people. “She should’ve come.”
“She’s in court tomorrow. Will be hard to get her to focus on much until she’s got a resolution.”
As the three Morgan men entered the kitchen Georgia grinned up at them. She, more than any of the four siblings, missed the family gatherings. For that reason, and that alone, he was sorry for the rift with Alex.
Georgia moved to the sink to fill Tracker’s water bowl. The dog knew he was most likely to be heard if he came to the kitchen, the place where Rick had all but lived the last few months during the renovation.
“Wolf-dog was at the back door,” Georgia said. “Should I feed him?”
Rick checked his watch. “Sure. His food is in the pantry. He gets exactly one scoop.”
Georgia frowned. “That sounds kinda mean? Can’t I give him a chew or a bone?”
“If I keep his weight in check, he feels and moves better. Extra weight equals pain. So no more sneaking him chips.”
Looking innocent, she vanished into the pantry and appeared with a bowl of food that looked to be exactly one scoop. “Seems kinda sad never to be able to have a fun snack again.”
Rick shrugged off his jacket, the shoulders suddenly feeling tight. “We’ll play with his chew toy tonight and he can bark at squirrels later. He’ll be fine.”
She dumped the food into the bowl. She winked at the dog and rubbed him between the ears. “Whatever you say, boss.”
Deke set a file folder on the counter. “Don’t look so sad, Georgia. He loves the chew toy.”
She shrugged and snapped up a chip, which she ate in one bite. “Whatever.”
Rick nodded toward the folder. “Those the papers?”
Deke lifted the case slightly. “Rachel drew them up just as we asked. They’re ready to sign. I brought copies for everyone to read after we eat.”
“I don’t have time to eat,” Alex said, checking his watch. “Deke, do you mind if we sign the papers now? I’ve got to get back to town.”
“You can’t eat?” Georgia asked. “Alex, I did takeout and didn’t cook just for you!”
Alex’s gaze softened a fraction. “Sorry, Georgia. Got a dinner date in town.”
The word date reverberated through the house and no one spoke for a moment. They all knew Melissa had been dating Rick and after his shooting had taken up with Alex.
Deke spread the papers on the counter. “Copies for everyone to read.”
Alex reached in his coat pocket and pulled out an expensive-looking pen. “It’s as we discussed?”
“Land transfers from Rick to you, in accordance with Dad’s will.”
Without reading it, Alex reached for the top copy and flipped to the last page. He scrawled his name in the spot indicated for him.
“Don’t you want to read it?” Deke asked.
“I don’t need to read it. I trust Rachel got it right.” He handed the pen to Rick.
Rick accepted the pen. “You brought the money?”
“I did.” Rick signed and handed the pen to Georgia and then Deke who signed as witnesses.
Alex reached in his pocket, pulled out a dollar bill, and laid it on the counter.
Rick pocketed the money and signed. “Land’s all yours.”
Alex carefully tucked his pen back in his breast pocket along with his copy of the deed. “Excellent. Sorry I can’t stay.” Relief, not remorse, hummed below the surface. They’d avoided World War III but had also not signed a peace treaty. In fact, it might not take much to make the fireworks fly again.
“Alex, want a plate for the road?” Georgia offered.
For her, Alex’s smile was genuine. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and she hugged him fiercely. “Thanks, but no.”
Georgia smiled as she stepped back, but Rick knew their brother’s early departure had dashed whatever hopes she’d had of a family gathering. That sparked irritation, which peeled away whatever good intentions Rick had brought with him to the meeting. Dinner date. Melissa. Shit. “Don’t want to keep her waiting.”
The sarcasm-laced words melted the ice and for a moment, Alex’s eyes burned with fury. Instead of commenting, he turned. The steady clipped strike of his shoes echoed through the house and seconds later the front door slammed so hard that the windows rattled.
For a moment, no one said anything. Then Georgia pulled a beer from the refrigerator and popped it. “No blood was shed. I’d say we’ve made some progress.”
Progress. All-out war had cooled to bitter resentment. “Who’re you kidding, Georgia? We’re a fucked-up fractured excuse for a family.”
A small shrug lifted her shoulder. “So you admit we’re a family? Good. That’s progress.”
To Jenna fear tasted like fast-food hamburgers and fries.
Since Jenna had been held prisoner in that closet for nine days, she’d not been able to eat hamburgers in any way, shape, or form. And the smell of fries turned her stomach. Her aunt had taken her to a local fast-food place when she’d first moved to Baltimore as a treat but Jenna took one look at the meal and had cried.
She stopped at the traffic light and her stomach grumbled. She had a chicken and a salad in her fridge at home but as she glanced over at the hamburger chain restaurant, she wondered if she could finally walk into the place and order a meal like a normal person.
Her stomach curdled just imagining the smell but stubbornness had her turning into the parking lot. Before she had a chance to overthink, she grabbed her purse and pushed through the doors, soon finding herself standing in front of the light-up display menu. The choices seemed overwhelming.
When it was her turn, a teenage girl behind the counter barely looked her way when she asked, “May I take your order?”
Jenna had no idea what she wanted so she opted for the food that churned the worst memories. “Hamburger.”
“What kind?”
“Kind?”
“We serve it a dozen different ways.”
A dozen ways? All she remembered was the small, round disk of meat floating in a bun of white bread that her jailor gave her each day. “What do you recommend?”
The girl shrugged. “Number one is our best seller.”
Jenna glanced at the board overhead but found the choices staggering. “I’ll take a number one.”
The girl dropped her gaze to her register as if her thoughts had already moved to the next order. “You want me to supersize that?”
“What?” God, she wasn’t sure if she could eat a small. “No. Small is fine.”
The girl drummed her fingers and attempted a smile. “For here or to go?”
The place wasn’t too busy or crowded and if she waited until she got home, the meal would be cold. “I’ll eat here.”
“Kind of drink?”
“Drink?” So many choices. “Water is fine.”
“You get a soda.”
She watched as the cooking crew prepared the burgers behind the counter. Such efficiency
