G.B. inhaled, a strange feeling in his chest making him want to cough.
The brunette on the phone had been right. Seeing those two together?
Certainly laid a path out for him, nice and clean.
Dipping his hand into that inner jacket pocket again, he got a hold of his phone.
His heart rate skyrocketed as he thought about dialing. For some reason, he had the sense that the decision he was about to make was going to affect so much more than just the situation with Duke. And not in a good way.
Turn away, he told himself. Just stop this.
After all, why the f**k did he care about Cait and his brother? He was on the verge of getting noticed, about to finally make it…
No, you aren’t, an inner voice pointed out. They’re going to get you for that murder.
He blinked and thought about the follow-up by good ol’ Detective de la Cruz, as it had turned out the guy was called.
They’d found something, hadn’t they.
“Goddamn it,” G.B. muttered. He should have stopped that shit with Jennifer. And he should be stopping this.
But come on, if he was going to go out, it might as well be with a bang … right?
The brunette had a point. He knew just what to do.
Chapter Fifty-three
Cait sat back at her drafting table and inspected the second-to-last drawing of the book. The puppy, who had gotten himself in trouble trying to hide his bone, was being scolded by his owner, the little five-year-old boy telling him he had to be careful down by the river so he didn’t drown.
Which was the point of the whole series: It wasn’t so much what life did to us, but what we tried to do to keep life from happening that caused most of our problems.
I.e., don’t get so worried about keeping your things safe that you end up putting them on a raft that floats away from you.
She knew what the next page said, and she could feel herself easing up, sure as if she were the little chocolate Lab: She was a happily-ever-after person at heart, and as always, the puppy reunited with his bone made her feel like everything had been worth it.
She was just taking the drawing over to her display table when her phone rang. Jogging over to get it, she hoped it was Duke checking in. Maybe she was up to having him come over, after all.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hey.”
Cait caught her disappointment before it came out in her voice. “Oh, G.B., hi.”
“Listen … I’ve got to tell you something.”
The sound of his voice was all wrong, the words tight and awkward, nothing like the smooth cadence he usually sported.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m really sorry to do this.”
He certainly sounded like it. “G.B., what’s—”
“Did Duke ever tell you about his family?”
She frowned. “He said he didn’t have any.”
“That’s a lie, Cait.” There was a long pause. “I’m his brother.”
Cait backed up blindly, putting out a hand for her work chair. When she ran into it, she sat down—more like fell down.
“I’m sorry. I …” Had she heard that right?
He certainly hadn’t stuttered—
Oh, crap, she thought. That was why, back in the beginning, she’d kept thinking she’d seen Duke somewhere before: He and G.B. did look alike. They weren’t identical, but they were close, very close. Why hadn’t the similarity occurred to her before now?
“Oh … God.”
“There’s more, though.” G.B. cursed. “There’s so much more he hasn’t told you. Look, you don’t have to be with me, that’s not why I’m calling. But I like you, I honestly like you, and I know for certain you do not belong with him.”
With a sense that the world was spinning around her, she held on to the corner of her desk. Dimly, she noticed that in the background of the connection, there was a lot of chattering, as if he were in a public place.
“Cait, I want you to come out and see something. You deserve to know the truth—he’s not who you think he is.”
Abruptly, she thought of all those silences she and Duke had shared. She’d assumed that what he’d said was true—that he wasn’t good at talking. It sure as hell fit his macho, tough-guy persona. But had there been another reason?
“Cait, just see for yourself. Then you can make up your own mind. Come now, though, I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be here.”
After G.B. gave her a location and she’d hung up, she found that she couldn’t breathe. But she was clear on one thing. As memories from that nightmare with Thom began to replay in her mind, the need to have some solid footing, even if it hurt, drove her to get her purse, go out to her SUV, and head over to where G.B. had told her to meet him.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up to the Caldwell Galleria, and she almost forgot to lock up the Lexus as she strode over to the entryway of the food court. Going in through the revolving center doors, she looked around, expecting to see G.B., or Duke, or somebody.
There were a lot of people, but none she recognized.
Walking down past a display of pearl necklaces and engagement rings, she kept going, oily scents of stir-fry, French fries, and doughnut holes making her absently wonder how many calories she was breathing in. Where was—
Cait stopped dead.
About fifty tables were set up in the center of it all, red and yellow plastic trays full of logo’d food covering the tiny tops, all kinds of teenagers and parents and little kids stuffing their faces. And in the midst of them?
Duke.
And he wasn’t alone. He was sitting across from a carbon copy of himself, the young boy showing all the promise of the same height and strength of his father.
It was Duke’s son.
That was the only explanation.
Didn’t have any family here, huh.
Her first impulse was to march over and get into his face—but she wasn’t going to do that in front of the child. Nope. Duke had more than earned a lashing, but his son did not deserve to see any of that.
Spinning around, Cait slammed face-first into a twelve-foot-tall biker, the bearded guy catching her in the nick of time, or she would have landed on her face.
“You okay there, lady?” he asked in a Southern baritone.
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, yes, please, thank you.”
Scrambling out of the mall, she rushed into the fresh air, and quickly located the trash bins on either side of the entrance … because there was a good chance she was going to throw up the leftover lasagna she’d had when she’d gotten home from the funeral.