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What had they done to him?
Lara had to glance away, knowing the sight of her tears would irritate him.
“Look, take the money. Give me your bank account number and I’ll transfer more. I don’t have enough liquid assets to cover half of the estate until I sell the house. But I can send enough to give you time to decide what you want to do.”
“You’re selling the house?” Lara asked, not really caring but needing to buy time to figure out how she felt.
“Unless you want it?”
“God, no,” she exclaimed so loud the teenagers behind the counter turned to stare.
Phillip’s nod made it clear he felt the exact same way.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, truly curious.
“Does it matter?” At first he calmly returned her impatient stare. Then he shrugged. “I know I wasn’t much of a brother to you when we were growing up. I’m not trying to make up for that. I figure we were a product of our environment and it is what it is. Regrets, lamenting over the past—those are a waste of time.”
Lara blinked, surprised to hear her own attitude coming out of his mouth. She couldn’t imagine that was something genetic—their parents had been the king and queen of using the past as a weapon. Maybe she and Phillip had more in common than she’d imagined.
“Okay,” she slowly agreed, sliding her hand toward the money, but she didn’t put it in her purse. Not yet. “On one condition.”
“You’re putting a condition on accepting money you obviously need and deserve?”
“Yep.” Lara wet her lips, looking down at the tray, empty but for a scattering of salt and a smear of ketchup. She needed a second to reel in her emotions, knowing neither she nor Phillip would be comfortable otherwise.
Finally, she met his patient gaze again.
“I’ll take this, and I’ll help you sort through and settle the estate if you want.”
For a second he looked surprised, then relieved. Then he nodded for her to continue with her terms.
“But in exchange, you can’t tell Castillo where I am.” Agreement clear on his face, he opened his mouth. But before he could say anything, Lara held up one hand. “And you promise to talk to me.”
He shook his head. Not in denial, she could tell, but in confusion. Lara took a deep breath and reached across the table to lay her hands over his.
“We might not really be family, and I doubt we’ll ever be friends,” she said slowly, putting all the sincerity she felt in her eyes. “But maybe we don’t have to be strangers.”
* * *
DOMINIC WHALED ON the bag, putting all his weight, frustration and aggravation behind each punch.
“Castillo.”
Jab. Jab. Uppercut, right cross, jab.
“Castillo.”
Fury flew from his fists.
A loud metal snap rang out.
Panting, Dominic stared blankly at the black bag as it flew across the floor, the metal stand heading in the opposite direction.
“Looks like you killed it.”
“Huh?” He looked around, blinking the sweat out of his eyes, then scowled. “Lane. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” Brody nudged the busted punching bag with the toe of his boot. “I lost the draw.”
Dominic frowned. What were he and Masters up to? The only guy smart enough to know better than to pit his ego against Bad Ass’s luck with the cards was Masters—he always insisted they draw straws.
“What’s the deal?”
“You’re moping.” Brody held up one hand before Dominic could tell him where to shove that opinion. “You’ve been moody, pissed at the world and a general pain in the ass for the past month.”
“So?” Dominic snapped, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his face. Better to see when he punched his friend.
“So when Landon started talking about having his wife chat with you, we figured we’d do you a favor and give you a chance to fix your attitude.”
Dominic winced. Landon’s wife was gorgeous, sweet and seriously fun. None of that made up for the fact that she was a psychologist.
“So because you drew short straw we have to have a heart-to-heart?”
“Sucks, but yeah.”
“I’m heading home on leave tomorrow for my cousin’s wedding. How about I work on my mood while I’m there and we skip this little chat?”
Brody looked as though he was considering it, then shook his head.
“Sorry. Duty is duty.”
“Dammit.” Dominic threw the towel on the bench, glancing around for something else to punch.
“How about I make it easy. I’ll talk, you nod.”
Dominic rolled his eyes.
“You’re having lady problems. Your girl hooked you hard, then she left. Right?”
