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One of the admins was approaching Brick’s office with a handful of paperwork, so Les told Rory to hold on a moment and excused herself, taking the phone off speaker. With a nod to Brick, she headed toward the breakroom. On the way, she noted a TV screen mounted on the wall, a news channel running silent but with subtitles. She paused as the Whitfield family picture came up, followed by a photo of Colin. In the background was the river, a helicopter view of the police units stationed at the spot where the body had been retrieved.
When a formal picture of Brick came up in his dress uniform, she bit back a curse. No mention of her, but that wouldn’t matter if the story was picked up outside the local area.
She wanted a copy of that picture, though. Talk about hot.
She paused in the hallway outside the breakroom. “Rory, um, I wasn’t kidding about the being shot at thing. You and Mom might see it on TV, so I wanted you to know.”
“What?”
She briefly explained the series of events. He went silent while she did. When she was done, he had one thing to say.
“I want to talk to Brick again.”
“I told you, we’re fine. I’m fine.”
“Yeah. I heard you. Take Brick the fucking phone.”
A disturbing tingle sparked at the base of her spine. She was responding to male command way too easily if she was getting that jolt from her pain-in-the-ass brother. Even so, Brick was his best friend, and she’d told Rory he'd been shot. So she brought the phone back to Brick, who was alone in his office again.
“It’s on the news,” she said, low, tilting her head toward the main area. “So I told him. He wants to talk to you.”
“I figured he would.”
Rather than having her put it on speaker again, Brick took the phone. She returned to the guest chair as he explained the situation. She’d thought he’d do damage control, glossing over it. Instead, Brick gave Rory far more detail, sparing him nothing.
When he was done, Brick paused, listening. “Yeah, I know, man. She’s okay. The chances of that happening at an investigation site is like a lightning strike. Even so, you know if I’d suspected it, she never would have been with me. But you can be damn proud of her. She ran faster than you ever did on the field.”
Les scowled and came around the desk, gesturing. He handed the phone back, but mouthed, “Be kind.”
“I didn’t tell you so you could beat up on him, Rory. He saved my life. And if you know anything about him, you know he’d never take me anywhere he’d think I’d be in danger.”
“I know that,” Rory said. “But he’s my best friend, and you’re my only sister.”
What she heard in his voice took away her irritation. She’d felt that way plenty of times herself when he’d had a setback, during the early days of his paralyzing injury.
“I know,” she said quietly. “We’re okay. I promise. And I’ll be home tomorrow night. I’ll tell Mom, you, and everyone else, anything you want to know. Promise. In the meantime, you get to give her the news that I’m coming home for Easter.”
“With Brick. That will interest her. A lot.”
She snorted, but was glad to hear the teasing note. “I just figured Mom needed a testosterone overload at the house. Not.”
He chuckled. “Do me a favor and try not to star in any more crime drama episodes up there.”
“I’ll do my best.” She paused. “I love you, dickhead. See you soon.”
When they left the office late afternoon, Brick assured her he’d covered everything that couldn’t wait until after the holiday.
And her M&M tomorrow. Unspoken but there. The barbed wire ball in her lower belly was getting bigger. Basketball sized. She needed to come up with some hefty distractions, but had no idea what would work.
She started with the picture on his credenza. What it meant, how long it had probably been there. “How can you be so certain? Of how you feel about me?”
I’m in love with you, you know. Fully, solidly, head over heels.
Admittedly, she didn’t seem to have any certainty problems herself when it came to Brick. Her weak attempts to doubt herself, to suggest false positives were being created by the stress of her life right now, or the euphoria of finally exploring the fantasies of her childhood crush, had come to naught. Most of the fantasies she was exploring with him had to do with far more adult feelings.
“Whenever I think of you, look at you, I'm certain,” he responded. “My compass has always pointed to you.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” She snorted. “And yet, even with that compass, there’ve been other women.”
