Luke looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “You finish at six a.m. I’m up for PT at seven.”
His brother hated physical therapy. In the months after the accident Matt had bullied, cajoled, enticed, and flat-out forced him to do the PT. Around eighteen, Luke grudgingly accepted that it was a fact of his life now, but he’d still rather do it first thing in the morning than dread it all day.
“You ate?” Matt asked as he mainlined coffee, then rummaged through the cupboards and pulled out a box of Pop-Tarts.
“Dude,” Luke said. “Your diet sucks. If I have to quit smoking, you have to start eating something that grew in the ground or fell off a tree.”
He shoved the box back in the cupboard. A bunch of bananas sat on the counter. He snagged one, peeled it, and after a couple of bites his stomach settled down.
“Fresh fruit,” Luke said approvingly. “Good choice.”
“How’s the shoulder?” Matt asked around a mouthful of banana.
“Still sore. The therapist told me to lay off the basketball for a couple of weeks, rest it.”
“Good advice. Do what she says.”
This got him a grin. “You think it’s good because it’s the same advice you gave me. So what’s the current case?”
The hottest woman he’d ever met and a growing moral dilemma. “Gangs. Guns. The usual seedy side of the city.” He swallowed the last of the banana and used the coffee to clear the stickiness from his mouth. “Gotta go.”
He’d brushed his teeth and was back in the kitchen checking his weapon and buckling on the ankle holster when Luke said, “Some frat brothers are planning a road trip to the drag races this weekend. I’m going.”
Matt looked up. “Who’s driving?”
“Me. It’s easier to take my truck than it is to get me in and out of someone else’s vehicle. Yes, they will be drinking, probably continuously, so I’m designated driver. The plan is to go to the races and the strip clubs. I’ll be home Monday afternoon.”
Matt looked at him. “You’re not working Monday?”
“Sixteen hours next week,” his brother said evenly. “Things are slow.”
His brother had graduated at the top of his class, had great internships with two small biotech firms, what his frat buddies called the ace-in-the-hole of being handicapped, because yeah, that made Luke’s life so much better than theirs, but a year into his job search still hadn’t found full-time work.
“Call me on my cell or my work cell if you get into any trouble. No drinking and driving.”
“Jesus, Matt, if we’re telling each other the obvious, then cash the checks I’ve written you to help pay off the medical bills.”
He sat back down because Luke hated it when he “loomed over him” and talked. Matt had unhesitatingly signed his name to any and all paperwork assuming responsibility to pay for Luke’s treatment, but his brother had outmaneuvered him and gotten his student loans in his own name. “Send the money to Sallie Mae.”
“I’m giving it to you. The government will just have to get in line.”
“I don’t need it.”
Luke threw a pointed glance in the direction of the thrashing air conditioner. “Lying’s getting a little too easy for you.”
He ignored that. “I’m late. Text me when you get there. Don’t make me worry.”
Something about that made Luke press his lips together, but Matt was already late. Travel mug in hand, he was halfway down the driveway, headed for his Jeep parked across the street when his phone rang. Sorenson. He tapped the screen and said, “Yeah.”
“Travis Jenkins just showed up at Eye Candy.”
He cut the call and sprinted for his Jeep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thirty minutes before open, Eve took the spiral staircase to the main floor. Natalie and Chad stood behind the bar. They must have achieved some level of détente about the music because while Natalie’s iPod was plugged into the sound dock, rather than her usual boy band extended playlist, the lead singer for Whitesnake wondered if it was love he was feeling. At least it wasn’t New Kids on the Block.
Nat turned down the music as Eve crossed the floor and climbed up onto a stool in front of Chad. Without being asked, he filled a glass with ice and water, then set it in front of her. She gave him a smile that matched the flashing, purposeful look through her lashes, then sipped at the cold water.
“Looks like you’re ready to kick some ass on a Saturday night,” Natalie complimented.
Eve had compensated for stress with attitude, choosing black knee-high boots, a knee-length black leather skirt that clung like a second skin to every curve of her hips and bottom, and a black leather bustier with hook-and-eye closures. The stiff construction made the most of her average cleavage and left her midriff bare from rib cage to hip bone. She’d taken ten precious minutes to style her hair into a sexy, tousled mass that brushed her cheeks and lips and hung in her eyes.