I think the Feds assumed I knew more than I did. I didn’t bother to correct them. In truth, I was mildly embarrassed that I didn’t know more about Max and his life these days. Every detail they told me seemed to affect me in one way or another. I felt amused at how focused and intent on success Max was, but that wasn’t to say I wasn’t impressed. Max was achieving his goals. I never doubted he would.
As we drove, I was handed countless items, like a driver’s license with Max’s name on it, a cell phone programmed with his contacts, the keys to his apartment, and bank cards with his name on them as well.
It seemed wrong to touch the money that belonged to my brother. It wasn’t rightfully mine and likely it was all willed to our parents. When I tried to refuse, I was met with stone-cold silence and looks of disapproval.
I almost laughed.
Like I gave a damn if they liked me or not.
“Take the cards,” the man to my left finally said. He must have realized that I don’t bow under pressure. “The guys who wanted Max dead think he’s dead. When you show up, they’re going to be shocked and probably suspicious. If you start using a different bank or anything that even seems simple, they’re gonna know.”
I put the bank card and the other IDs into my leather jacket pocket.
The man to my right cleared his throat. “Be sure to use Max’s closet. He, uh, never wore leather jackets.”
“I’ll do my job,” I said, leaving no room for any more orders they wanted to present as suggestions. I probably wanted the men the Feds were after more than they did. This was just a case to them, a check in the box, a job well done.
Not to me.
To me, this was my brother’s life.
This was justice.
The city came into view, with sky-sweeping buildings, crowded streets, and cluttered sidewalks. People bustled around wrapped up in coats and scarves. Some carried briefcases; some carried white cups with the infamous green logo on the front. The coffee that came in those cups was apparently available on every single block in this monster of a city.
We had only been traveling for a short time, but the difference between New York City and the town in Pennsylvania where I was coming from were very different. There was an energy to this city, a hum of activity that I would bet never went to bed. Blaring horns and smells from the many vendors on the sidewalks all pressed in on me, making me feel like I was in a different world.
“Have you been to the city before?” one of the men asked me as I stared out the window.
“Not since I was a kid.” I might as well have never been here before. Seeing something through the eyes of a child was never the same as through the eyes of the grown man.
The man started talking again, telling me all of Max’s usual places—the coffee shop he visited every morning, the restaurants he frequented.
I made a sound and the man stopped talking. “I’m surprised my brother went out to eat. I figured he would be eating at his desk.”
The men in the car exchanged a look.
“What?” I said, knowing immediately that there was something I was missing.
The SUV slid up to the curb in front of a towering apartment building made of cream-colored stone.
“This is your apartment.”
“Max’s apartment,” I corrected.
“Remember,” Black suit number three said. “We need you to find the thumb drive that Max had in his possession. It contains records and statements that will put away many powerful men for a very long time.”
“How do you know it didn’t get destroyed in the car crash that killed my brother?”
“He told us it was somewhere safe.”
I felt a pang of sorrow for my brother. For his loss. I wished he was somewhere safe.
I palmed the keys to the apartment and prepared to get out of the car. I needed some air. I needed some time to think. To grieve.
“Do not confront the men who killed Max. They will get their punishment. Don’t do anything that might make anyone suspicious of who you really are. Find the thumb drive, contact us, and then you can bury your brother the way he deserved.”
I swung around. “You have his body?”
The man beside me grimaced. “There wasn’t much left.”
So there would be no burying of my brother. He was cheated out of life and a proper funeral. Anger inflamed my insides, sweeping through me like a raging fire. I wanted to punch something.
I started to get out of the SUV.
“Wait,” one of the men in black said behind me. “You do know that your brother didn’t live alone.”
It wasn’t really a question; it was said more like a statement, like a confirmation of knowledge already known.
A feeling of thick dread dropped into my gut. “No.”
“For the past year, your brother has been living with someone.”
“He has a roommate,” I said, really hoping that’s what they meant.
The man cleared his throat. “Girlfriend.”
Fuck.
“So I’m supposed to play boyfriend to…” My voice trailed away as I realized I didn’t know the name of the woman who was living with my only brother.
“Charlotte Rose Carter,” he supplied. “We realize this might be uncomfortable.”
I made a sound the boys in the Corps taught me. It wasn’t polite. They wanted me to go up there and pretend to be someone else, to look into the eyes of a woman who loved my brother and who was now going to be betrayed. She would just go about her day like he wasn’t even gone, like all was right with the world, when really everything was all wrong.
“It isn’t as if we are asking you to sleep with her,” the man said.
I barked a laugh. Sleeping with my brother’s woman was the last thing on my mind.
“I’ll be in touch when I have the drive,” I said shortly. I was beyond done with this conversation. I realized these men were just trying to do their jobs, but they were assholes.
I slammed the door to the SUV the second my feet hit the sidewalk. They disappeared into the New York traffic seconds later. I took a deep breath and stared up at the building. Cold air whipped around, pushing against my skin and hair. I didn’t mind the cold. It was a good way to help numb that hollow ache in the center of my chest.
Not quite ready to go inside, I pulled out the phone I was given and dialed a number I knew from memory. As the line rang, I stepped closer to the building, realizing someone might recognize me if I hung out in the middle of the sidewalk.
“This is Reed.” A voice came on the line.