“I did. A purple one. Merry Christmas, baby.”
He blinked, as if a physical jerk could shut off the nightmare of those last few moments of his daughter’s life. If he never said those words again, it would be too soon.
Clamping down on the bile of regret that rose in his throat, Edward acknowledged the man with a nod and walked out the sliding door, turning his face to the biting wind of a Missouri winter. He relished the icy crystals in the air, stinging his face and neck. Winter had come early to Kansas City this year. Snow had been on the ground for three weeks now, long enough to pack into drifts against buildings and trees and for grading salt and traffic to coat the pavement with a slick, slushy glop. The moisture beading on his charcoal sweater and the unzipped black coat he wore indicated another layer of this snowy mess was on the way. The dropping temperature that seemed to settle in his mended joints confirmed it.
Edward plunged the tip of his cane into the slush beside the curb, feeling even that tiny step down like the jab of a pin in his right ankle and knee. The twinges in his rebuilt body were tolerable most days. According to the doctors who’d stitched him back together, he was as healed as he was going to get. Now it was just a matter of building strength and continuing with his physical therapy exercises to maintain flexibility. His youngest brother, Holden, had insisted on giving him his weight-training set when he’d upgraded to newer equipment. Months of PT had made Edward fit. Dragging himself to the weight bench every time the need for a drink tried to take hold was getting him back into fighting shape. With the idea in mind that he’d wind up an arthritic old man before his time if he didn’t keep moving, Edward stretched his legs out to lengthen his stride and crossed the parking lot to his black SUV.
He’d just tossed the grocery sacks into the back seat of the Grand Cherokee when the cell phone on his belt hummed with an incoming call. He climbed in behind the wheel, tossed his cane over to the passenger side and started the vehicle’s powerful engine before unclipping the phone and checking the number. It was his youngest brother, Holden.
Edward cranked the defroster and opened the phone with a grin. “What do you want?”
“Bah, humbug to you, too.” Holden’s deep-pitched voice was laced with equal parts teasing and reprimand. “Where are you?”
Watching the first crystalline flakes dot his windshield and then melt away, Edward arched a dark brow with knowing sarcasm. Baby Bro wanted something. “I’m sitting in the grocery store parking lot, trying to get comfortable in my new car. You know, I had my old Jeep all broken in before you borrowed it and returned it a totaled mess after your jaunt down to the Ozarks with your girlfriend. This new model the insurance paid for doesn’t feel like home yet. It still has that new upholstery smell.”
“Um, hello? Witness protection? Bullets flying? You’re lucky I didn’t come back totaled.”
Damn lucky. Despite Holden’s sharpshooter and survival training with KCPD’s S.W.A.T. team—and the loan of Edward’s vehicle and expertise in hiding out from the world—he’d barely managed to stay a step ahead of the assassin who’d targeted the woman who’d witnessed their father’s murder. Liza Parrish would probably be dead right now if Holden hadn’t stepped up to volunteer as her personal bodyguard. Along with Sawyer’s discovery of a dangerous conspiracy, and evidence that provided motive and a list of suspects that Atticus had uncovered, Liza’s testimony had given KCPD a good description of their father’s murderer or murderers.
Eight months had passed since John Kincaid’s beaten body had been found slain, execution-style, in an abandoned riverfront warehouse. Edward’s years of experience on the force warned him that the longer it took to solve the case, the harder it would be to find the answers they needed. But soon, very soon, KCPD would put someone behind bars for the vicious crime and justice would finally be served.
If the Kincaid brothers had anything to do with it.
Three of them, at any rate. He was willing enough to help out where he could, but it had been a long time since Edward had picked up his gun and badge. If he could remain on the sidelines, it was probably just as well. His last few days as a fullfledged cop hadn’t done the people he cared about any good.
Pushing aside a niggling thought that was part relief, part regret and all guilt, Edward turned his focus back to his brother’s call. “I guess I’d rather have you around instead of that old Jeep.”
“You sweet talker, you.”
Right. I love you came about as easily to his lips as Merry Christmas. Holden understood.
“So, what’s up?” Edward asked, noting how the snow gathering in the clouds above had turned the afternoon into a hazy twilight.
“I want you to come to Christmas Eve dinner at Mom’s house.”
Little Brother didn’t beat around the bush, did he.
Though the idea of a family get-together, with presents and ornaments and food and laughter and love, hit him like a blinding sucker punch, Edward buried his knee-jerk reaction beneath the sarcasm that laced his voice. “I’m busy on the twenty-fourth.”
“Bull—”
“Watch your mouth, little brother.”
“When are you going to move on, Edward?” Holden asked, managing to sound irritated and concerned at the same time.
“I’m working on it.” Edward idly looked out the window to see people hunched down in their coats and scarves against the weather, their arms laden with sacks and packages, purses and briefcases—all going somewhere with a purpose. He used to be driven like that. Catch some bad guys, save the day. Hurry home to make love to his wife and play kickball or tag or read a book with his daughter. Since their deaths, it had taken him four months to get out of the hospital and learn to walk again, the rest of the year to move out of his house to a cabin in the countryside outside of K.C.—to settle in a quiet place where the memories couldn’t find him. It had taken longer still before a visit from his family or a trip to the store didn’t drain every last ounce of his emotional energy. “I’m working on it,” he repeated.
“I know you’ve come a long way. But…please. This will be Mom’s first Christmas without Dad. I think we should all be there for her. I think we all need to be together.”
So, when did the youngest of Edward’s brothers start to sound like the wise old man of the family?
“I don’t want to ruin anyone’s holiday with one of my moods.” He groused a curse beneath his breath. “Staying away might be the best gift I could give Mom.”
“Nobody believes that but you, big brother.” Holden’s voice brightened, changing the tone if not the topic. “We’d love it if you’d come, even if it’s just for a little while. Liza and I have an announcement to make.”
“Surprise, surprise. Are you finally gonna make an honest woman of her?”
“Finally? Give me a break, Dr. Romance. I was in the hospital recovering from a sucking chest wound and a concussion after our run-in with Z Group’s assassin, Mr. Smith.” Holden’s news didn’t surprise him. With a hit man relentlessly trying to silence Liza’s testimony about their father’s murder, falling in love had happened fast. But even Edward’s cynical soul had been able to see the depth of what was between them. “Then we had to find a new place for Liza that had room for three dogs after her house got all shot up. Those are all legitimate
