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“Where are you headed?”
I squealed and lost my balance, but caught myself before I landed on my ass.
“You should’ve been a ballerina,” I said as I straightened and glared at my brother.
“It appears you’re transitioning to a career as an escape artist.” Lincoln arched a brow in that way only he could.
“For your information, I forgot something at the office. I wastryingto be quiet so I didn’t disturb Lexie or Eric.” I threw my tote onto my shoulder.
“Not me?”
“You’re nocturnal.” I cocked my head. “Actually what’s the term fordon’t sleep? A-sleep-tomatic?”
One corner of his mouth twitched. That wouldn’t have happened before my best friend and her brother entered the picture. Maybe I should’ve introduced them sooner. I’m not sure either of them would’ve appreciated each other back then though. But I was beyond thrilled for them now. They were perfect together.
“I’ll call Webster’s and let them know you’ve created a new word,” he said dryly.
I kissed his cheek. “It’s called sleep. You should try it. Especially since you have a pretty lady in your bed now.” I put my hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Beau?”
I was halfway in and halfway out of the apartment. Slowly, I turned.
“What is he doing to you?”
Thehewas no doubt our father. You don’t want to know, big brother. You do not want to know.
I faked a bright smile. “Same ole, same ole.”
Lincoln had been a protective barrier between my father and me all of my life. It was my turn to protect him. I needed to handle this one on my own.
He let out a dissatisfied grunt. “Don’t forget you can talk to me. About anything.”
Not this.
“Might I remind you of the same.”
He pulled me in for a hug. Lincoln had never been afraid to show me brotherly affection, but sometimes he was so cold it caught me off guard. And in the moment, a hug was better than anything he could say or do.
I hugged him back hard. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” He made a grumble seem sweet.
I shoved him. “Go back to bed.”
“Wait until morning to go to the office.”
I checked my watch. After midnight. “Lucky me, it is morning.”
I hoppedin a taxi a few blocks from Lincoln’s apartment building. I rattled off the address to Hollingsworth Properties, where I rode the elevator to the top floor, stopped by my office and crept down a few flights of stairs before catching the elevator again. There was no one around except a security guard, who half dozed and half looked at his phone.
Out the back I went, where I flagged down another taxi. Thank goodness this city never slept.
I switched cabs one more time before I pulled up to a hotel in Woodlawn. I’d been there so often the past few weeks that the front desk clerk discreetly gave me a key and the room number as I passed without incident.
There were only three floors to the hotel. It was old and worn down, but clean, and hardly ever crowded.
As the elevator car slowly creaked up, I clutched the strap of my tote a little more tightly.
