just as well that she had a sense of humor, or she’d be dead herself. Her life was no bed of roses. However, it was just as well to smile as to cry. Neither would change anything.
“YOU’RE OUT OF SORTS AGAIN,” Kilraven mused, eyeing the brother who resembled him so much. Well, they had the same hair color, but Kilraven kept his hair short, and Jon’s eyes were very dark, where Kilraven’s were pale gray and glittery. They were half brothers, but that didn’t stop them from being close.
“Cammy’s getting on my nerves,” Jon said tersely. “It was another dizzy debutante yesterday morning. I had half an hour on fashion and hairstyles.”
Kilraven glanced at him as he pulled into traffic. “You could use a little fashion sense. No offense.” He chuckled.
“I dress quite well, thank you,” Jon said, referring to his three-piece watered gray silk suit.
“You’re elegant, all right,” said Kilraven, dressed in khaki slacks and a white polo shirt. “But your hair’s way out of style.”
“I’m Lakota,” he pointed out. “Nothing wrong with long hair.”
“You’re Cherokee, too,” came the droll reply.
Jon sighed. “I like my roots and my culture.”
Kilraven smiled. “So do I.”
Jon glanced at him. “You don’t show it.”
He shrugged. “I’m not defined by my ancestry.”
Jon glared. “Neither am I. But I prefer the Native American side of it.”
“I wasn’t making accusations,” the older man said blithely. “You’re just bent out of shape because Cammy wants you to get married yesterday and present her with a dozen grandkids.”
“Aren’t you and Winnie working on that?” Jon asked dryly, referring to Kilraven’s new wife, Winnie Sinclair from Jacobsville.
Kilraven chuckled. “Yes, we are. I can’t wait.”
“I’m glad you can finally let go of the past,” Jon said with affection. Kilraven’s wife and child had been brutally murdered seven years earlier. He’d never dreamed that his older brother would ever get married again. It delighted him that Kilraven had found such a kind and loving partner.
“You ever going to get married?”
Jon grimaced. “Not to any of Cammy’s idiot candidates.”
He laughed. “This one wasn’t from an escort service …?”
“I don’t know.” He pursed his lips. “I need to have Joceline run a background check on her, just to see.”
“Illegal, unless she’s applying for a job with the Bureau.”
Jon lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a stickler for rules, when you’re notorious for breaking them?”
“Hey, we all mature. Some of us just do it later than others.”
“True.”
“Have you bought the new Halo game?”
Jon smiled. “I bought it a long time ago, but it’s still sitting on the shelf at home.”
“You and World of Warcraft.” Kilraven sighed, shaking his head. “My young brother-in-law, Matt, is crazy for it. When he’s not in school, he’s online, grouping with other people to kill monsters. His latest friend is a sixty-four-year-old grandmother of three. They do dungeons together.”
Jon whistled. “Does she know his age?”
“Oh, yes. And he also plays with a group from a nursing home. They all have internet connections, and most of them play WoW. It’s their sole entertainment now, since they’re physically handicapped and can’t socialize with the world at large.” He smiled. “You know, that’s not a bad thing. It keeps their hand and eye coordination going, and gives them a window into the whole world.”
“I know. I play, too. What’s Matt’s WoW gamer handle?”
“One of his toons is an eightieth-level Death Knight named Kissofdeaths,” Kilraven said.
Jon’s eyes bulged. “That’s Matt? I’ve been doing random dungeons with him! He tanks and I heal with my druid.”
“I’ll have to tell him. He’ll roll on the floor laughing.”
“Don’t you dare,” Jon warned. “Now that I know who he is, I’ll ride him high.”
Kilraven pulled into the parking lot of a local Mexican restaurant and turned off the vehicle. He looked at Jon. “They cut Harold Monroe loose,” he said quietly.
“Don’t you start. Joceline told me already. She’s worried, too. Listen,” he said with faint exasperation, “the guy is a total idiot. He can’t even walk and chew gum at the same time!”
“He’s had his finger in every illegal pie in San Antonio for years. He’s been accused of petty theft, running a gambling operation, not to mention houses of prostitution, and now this latest charge, pimping immigrant girls. He sleazed out of the other charges, but you and Joceline tracked down witnesses to have him prosecuted for kidnapping the teen daughter of illegal immigrants for a local brothel,” the older man said grimly. “He swore that he’d have the case dropped and he’d get even if he ever got out. He’s been in jail for three months waiting trial and he’s already spent more time in solitary confinement than any other prisoner they’ve got.”
“Which only proves that he gets caught every time.”
“That won’t do you much good if he gets caught after he’s offed you,” Kilraven reminded him.
“I’m street smart,” Jon said. “I have built-in radar when it comes to possible ambushes. You should remember that I’ve never had a speeding ticket.”
“At the speeds you travel, I’m still amazed.”
Jon grinned. “I always know where they’re hiding to catch people.”
That was true. It had dumbfounded Kilraven the first time Jon told him to slow down because there was a Department of Public Safety car sitting under a bridge over the next hill. Kilraven had just laughed, but he slowed down. Sure enough, when they topped the hill, there was the car, backed under a bridge out of sight.
“Some ability, and you a cop,” Kilraven accused.
Jon shrugged. “It wouldn’t do for a senior FBI agent to be caught for speeding in his own jurisdiction,” he said.
“You shouldn’t be speeding in the first place,” Kilraven reminded him.
“Everybody speeds. I just don’t get caught.”
“There will come a day,” his brother predicted.
“When it does, I’ll pay the fine,” Jon replied. “Are we going
