CHAPTER ONE

STEELE

“Too tight?”

I glance down at the white bandage wrapped around my arm. Looks good, nothing like when my little brother used to mend his wounded Power Ranger action figures with a few sheets of toilet paper and some masking tape. “No,” I glance up at the paramedic. “Feels fine.”

“The burn is superficial, but you should follow up with your physician,” she says as she waves in her next victim.

“Yeah, all right.” I flex my hand, the sting from the burn stretching down my arm. I nod at Chris, one of the cameramen with part of his eyebrow gone, no doubt, burned off from the blast. He takes my place and sits his ass on the bumper of the ambulance.

Lights flash all around me, reminding me of the intro to one of my first movies, Criminal Accounts. I wander closer to the smoldering building, watching as the firefighters move in and out of the place. I turn to my right, and through the hazy mist of leftover smoke, a body moves toward me. With clenched fists and squared shoulders, the familiar figure yanks my attention.

Dark eyes set deep in a pale face reveals within the light, and just as I have for the past twenty-eight years, I instantly sense my little brother’s distress.

I raise my hands. “I’m okay!”

Without saying a word, Stone grabs my arm and exams it. He twists and turns my body, inspecting that too. His fingers lightly touch my naked back.

“It’s makeup for the scene,” I rush out as he spins me back around.

Our eyes meet, and I grasp the fear he’s real good at hiding from everyone else. I see the little kid who used to crawl in bed with me whenever he had a nightmare, the boy who cried himself to sleep, and the kid who feared everything. That little boy wraps his arms around me. For no more than a second or two, he holds me, then the man he’s become pushes me away.

Rushing a shaky hand through his overgrown dark hair, he scans the area. “What the fuck happened?”

His eyes never make it back to mine.

“Why are you here?”

He stares at the building, inspecting it as he had me. “Was at Mom and Dad’s for Becca’s birthday party,” he finally says, eyes moving on to a few bystanders. “Timmy Jones from down the street dropped by.” His dark eyes flash by me. “Was on duty, said he heard on the scanner there was an explosion, knew you were scheduled to shoot here today, and wanted to tell Mom not to worry. He radioed the station, and they confirmed no casualties reported.”

“Shit!” I run a hand down my uninjured arm. “Didn’t even think to call Ma. Sorry, man.”

“Yeah.” Stone nods, the color coming back to his face. “We were just eating cake and shit. I guess it’s all over the news, and that’s why Timmy stopped by. Told Mom I’d come down and check things out, be sure your pretty ass was okay.”

“I’m all right. Something went wrong when they blew up one of the model buildings. Luckily, the shrapnel only hit a few people. Nothing too serious.”

“I’m gonna call Ma and have a look around,” he says, pulling his cell from his hoodie pocket.

I rub a hand over my stubble-free chin. I scared him and Ma. Fuck, I can just imagine what they were thinking when Timmy showed up in his cop uniform at my little niece’s birthday party. Shit! Mom worries enough about me doing this job already. The last thing I need is to give her more ammo as to why I should quit.

Stone wanders over toward the building, nodding as he talks in his cell. For a split second, I consider telling him to leave it to the firefighters and the cops, but not only is my little bro a rock star, he also deactivates bombs for a living. So, this shit’s right up his alley. Besides, he’ll have to see for himself that the explosion was nothing more than an accident before he’ll walk away.

“You okay?” Kip says, grabbing my shoulder and glancing at the bandage on my arm.

“Yeah.” I nod, watching the anxiety dissolve from his face. Found out early on that Academy Award winner Kip Nivarro doesn’t like it when his stunt double gets hurt. He takes it personal.

“Trying to pull another TJ Banks?” He winks, squeezing my shoulder before letting go.

“Wasn’t me. It was that asshole Ken Reynolds. He fucked up another explosion. I told ya, I don’t like working under that guy. He’s dangerous. Not sure why Jerry hired him. Reynolds was the stunt coordintor for Hard Curves. He was on the frontline of that TJ Banks debacle, and that guy was talented. I worked with him a couple of times. Banks was cautious but good. Damn shame the kid died so young because he had potential. Heard he’d just gotten married and had a kid on the way.” TJ Banks was the most recent fatal stunt accident. It happened a few years back, but we stunt folks never forget. That’s why I don’t do the whole relationship thing. No lady or kids waiting at home for my safe return.

Hell, Ma’s enough to deal with.

Kip’s eyebrow lifts. “You want Ken gone, he’s gone. Just say the word.”

“No.” I grimace. The guy might be an assfuck, but I’m not looking to sabotage his job. Who’d be the assfuck then?

Kip shakes his head. “Hey”—he laughs—“did you see Chris?”

I nod, stifling back a chuckle myself. “Poor kid, he’s been trying to hook up with Jessica Gables and losing an eyebrow’s not gonna help the cause.”

“No loss on his part, I’m sure. I hate when she’s working in makeup. She’s a bitch.”

“Try telling him that.”

“I did.” Kip snickers. “He gives me the creeps.”

“Who? Chris?”

“Yeah, he’s … ah”—Kip shakes his head—“I don’t know … weird like I could see him having pictures of Jessica hanging all over his bedroom walls and shit, jerking off to them while listening to ‘Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic.’”

“The Police, really?”

“Mom’s a big fan.” He shrugs, trying to justify the excuse.

“But Chris?” I raise an eyebrow, seeking the same kind of validation.

“Hey, I’m just sayin’.” He grins.

“Where do you come up with this shit?” I laugh. “Oh, wait, it must be from all those B title horror flicks back in the 2000s you starred in, or well, tried to.”

“Fuck you.” Kip whacks me in the chest, and I laugh harder. “Listen.” He sobers, getting over the comment quick. “I’ll talk to Jerry and see what we can do about Ken. I don’t trust the guy, either. Too many fuckups. Hey”—he nudges me—“ain’t that your brother?”

“Yeah,” I say, spotting Stone talking with one of the firefighters. Think we switched roles. I’m not crawling in bed with him at night or anything, but since the whole Army stint, he’s definitely the overprotectve one now. He’s been distant since the last intervention we threw down on him at Uncle Rowdey’s cabin. My other three brothers and me had to help him through another detox, and it got ugly. Whatever he did in Iraq really fucked his shit up.

The past few times he’s been in town, he’s stayed with Token or Crash. He won’t stay with Nix on account he’s a got a five-year-old running around the house. But wherever he’s staying, it’s not at my place. He might be knocking on my door this week, though, considering the last time he stayed with Crash, they got into it at Ma’s during our little sister’s birthday party. And I know Token’s out. Token’s got himself a girl, so he ain’t wantin’ any company.

“I’m gonna check in with Jerry and see how long this is going to set us back.” Kip nods a hello at Stone as he makes his way over to me. “I’ll see you tomorrow in Chicago?”

“My flight leaves at eleven,” I say to Kip’s back as my eyes shift over to Stone. “Like I said, an accident, right?”

Stone stops in front of me. “Appears that way. I’m gonna stop by tomorrow when the smoke clears just to take another look around.”

I open my mouth, then snap it shut. Stone’s gonna do what he wants, and I can’t stop him. No one can. We got lucky when he finally agreed it was time to stop the drugs. “Where ya stayin’?”

He shrugs. “Just came to town for Becca’s party. Not sure if I’m gonna stick around, but might have a couple of gigs in the works around here, so I might not have a choice. I’m waitin’ to hear back from Trigger.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to Chicago for the week. You can crash at my place if ya want. Someone’s gotta feed Goldilocks while I’m gone.”

“You still got that damn goldfish?”

“Hell, I don’t have to take her for walks, she don’t make any noise, and she don’t get separation anxiety. She’s the perfect pet.”

He laughs. It’s one of the sacred sounds I like to hear. “All right, I’ll camp out there for a few days and take care of Goldilocks for ya, but first, I’m going to head back to Ma and Dad’s.”

“Okay. I need to take a quick shower to make it to the airport by ten. So if you’re not at my place before then, Simon will let you in.”