Chapter 16—Dump and Chase

Waiting for Marina, Drew paced the floor until Bronson came out of his office and glared at him.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy. Sit your ass down. Wearing out my fine flooring isn’t going to get her here any faster. No woman is worth this shit.”

Drew stopped, and heat spread up his neck to his face. He’d been outed, but he knew better than to show any signs of weakness to Bronson, who’d pounce on him like a hungry lion. The red face was bad enough, and perhaps his buddy wouldn’t notice in the dimly lit building.

He glanced down at the ancient hardwood flooring and back up, cocking a brow at Bronson. The floor was as old as the hundred-year-old building and showed its age. He doubted it’d ever been refinished. Bronson had inherited the building a year ago and started his new business in it, turning down astronomical offers from developers salivating over the possibility of putting condos on the half a city block. Even though it wasn’t in the greatest part of town, any property within city limits was desirable.

Bronson wasn’t driven by money, though. He was driven by justice. Drew knew little about his past, but he was certain there was a story beyond him serving in Special Forces for a decade or so. The fact that he inherited this building from a distant relative he never talked about was part of his mystery.

Drew lowered himself into an old office chair, circa the 1960s, complete with four working wheels and blue vinyl with the stuffing coming out in places.

Bronson narrowed his eyes, his irritation more pronounced, but everything irritated Bronson, and Drew ignored most of it. Bronson loved to portray a badass; most of it was an act. His buddy was in pain, and occasionally, Drew saw flashes of that pain in his tortured gaze. He didn’t know if it had to do with the military, his family, or God forbid, a woman. Maybe all three. But it was there, and Bronson overcompensated by diving into his work twenty-four-seven. If he wasn’t here, he was at the small karate studio off the back of this building. He even lived upstairs in an apartment Drew had never seen. He could picture a cot in one corner and a small fridge with a table in another. That’d be Bronson.

He didn’t have any more time to contemplate Bronson’s issues when the bell on the door tinkled. Drew shot to his feet and sprinted around the boxes stacked everywhere like a running back aiming for the end zone.

He screeched to a halt in front of Marina, who stood in the open doorway. She surveyed the place with wide eyes and seemed hesitant to step farther into the questionable environment.

Drew grinned encouragingly at her and motioned her in the door. She slipped inside gingerly, as if afraid mice might attack at any moment. They possibly could. Or worse, rats.

“Come in. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” she said primly, as if they were strangers.

“Follow me back to the offices.”

“What is this place?” She hadn’t moved and was gazing around the dusty room, taking in the boxes stacked everywhere.

“It was an old general store at one time, then a warehouse, but it hadn’t been inhabited in years before Bronson inherited it. We use the set of offices in the back.”

“Are there rats in here?”

He suppressed a chuckle and shrugged, certain there were, but he wasn’t telling her that. Bracing himself for Bronson’s possible reaction, he led the way to the offices and prayed his buddy would be on better than usual behavior.

Bronson stood as they approached. The closer they got, the weirder it got. A broad grin spread across Bronson’s face, and likewise on Marina’s. They greeted each other like old friends, leaving Drew in open-mouthed shock. Bronson didn’t like anyone. He merely tolerated people, but it appeared he liked Marina.

Bronson waved Marina to a chair stacked with papers, moving quickly to pile the stuff on the floor. “Have a seat. How ya doing?”

Drew looked from one to the other, puzzled and thrown off balance. “Do you two know each other?”

“Never seen her in my life,” Bronson said pleasantly, instead of his usual grumpy growl.

“Me neither, but you look like the man who can get a job done,” Marina said.

“Oh, honey, I can get any job done to your satisfaction.”

“I bet you can.” Marina giggled and winked at him.

What the fuck? Bronson was flirting with her, and Marina liked it?

Jealousy stabbed Drew unexpectedly in the chest. What was going on here?

After wiping off the chair, Marina sat down primly and took the cup of coffee Bronson offered. Drew pushed a pile of crap off a metal chair, pulled it next to her, and sat down.

Amusement twinkled in Bronson’s dark, usually intimidating gaze. The fucker was jerking Drew’s chain. He knew Drew was jealous, and he was taking advantage. He’d show them both. Two could play this game.

“You can both cut the crap. I’m on to you guys. You’re trying to get a rise out of me.” He sat back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest, forcing a mellow smile on his face.

“What are you talking about? Me?” Bronson held out his hands, palms up, but a rat-bastard grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Marina shrugged in response. She, too, was suppressing a smile. “Drew, you’re getting a little territorial, aren’t you?” She turned to Bronson. “We’re only friends.”

Drew gritted his teeth, knowing he was doing a piss-poor job of appearing nonchalant.

Bronson sipped his coffee, watching Drew over the rim. “You’re so easy to fuck with.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Marina said.

The two of them fist-bumped, leaving Drew certain he’d fallen into a parallel universe or down a rabbit hole.

* * * *

Drew was fuming, jealous, and acting stupid. He had no reason to be any of the three, but he was.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Drew asked as soon as Marina left to get the pizza.

“What?” Bronson glowered at him and tapped a pencil impatiently on his metal desk.

“You and Marina. You acted like you were old buddies.”

Bronson threw back his head and let out a deep belly laugh. “Nah, we were just messin’ with ya. She’s a smart one, picked up on that right away. Pay attention, Deli, she might be too smart for you.”

“Are you saying I’m dumb?”

“Nah, I’m saying you’re so head over heels, you can’t see the warning signs. That girl is off limits. She’s going to break your heart.”

Drew scowled and sat down in the metal chair. “Why would you say that?”

“Because you’re already in too deep, and I’m not sure she’s as committed as you are.”

“Whatever.” Drew ignored Bronson’s chuckle. “What are you working on?”

“Got a new one. The murder of local businessman John Harmon five years ago made to look like an accident. It’s all in here.” Bronson pushed the box on his desk toward Drew, who couldn’t resist the lure of a good murder mystery. He dug through the box, making stacks of the different kinds of information stored there. There was a shit-ton of financial records and bank statements, both personal and business. He’d look those over carefully.

Bronson plucked the medical examiner’s statement out of the box, read it, and handed it to Drew. “What does this tell you?”

Drew studied it for several minutes, but no matter how he looked at it, he came up with the same conclusion. “The killing was brutal, overkill, which almost always means it’s personal.” He glanced up at his friend. “This guy knew his killer.”

Bronson nodded. “Yeah, I would say so. It shows a level of anger not normally found in a robbery gone bad or even a murder for hire. This guy wanted him dead, and he wanted to take his rage out on him.”

“He’s gotten away with it for five years. He shows some sophistication and knowledge of forensics. But, anymore, the average person off the street can pick up that stuff by watching true crime TV shows. Isn’t that where you got the most of your training?”

Drew grabbed a paper cup and pegged Bronson in the head. Bronson’s eyes narrowed to menacing black slits, but he didn’t intimidate Drew. He knew him too well. He was one of the good guys, an honorable man who’d fought for injustices in the world. He’d come back scarred and weary, but he was a survivor, and Drew admired him.

“We need to make a list of possible suspects and what we know about them.”

Bronson nodded, looking almost proud, and Drew couldn’t help puffing up a bit from the silent praise. Bronson wasn’t that much older than him, but he looked up to him like a big brother.

“You love doing this, you know that, don’t you?”

Drew nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“Your face lights up, and you go after stuff like a bulldog. Don’t forget, I could use a guy like you. Whenever you decide to retire from hockey, I’ll have a job waiting here.”

“Might be sooner than later,” Drew admitted.

“You have a lot of good years left to play hockey, Deli. Don’t rush something you might regret.”

Drew studied him for a moment. “I worry about another head injury. I don’t want to end up like some of those guys after twenty years in the game. I want to grow old and have great-grandkids. I don’t know if the risks are worth it for me.”

“You might want to figure that one out.”

“It’d be different if I lived for hockey like my dad and brother, but I don’t. I like it less and less every year. That injury last year was a wakeup call.”

“That’s why I got out of the service. I thought I’d make a career out of it, but I’ve seen too much of the ugly side of this world. I want to take out the ugly on my terms, not based on plans drawn up by some guy at a desk somewhere who’s never been on the ground.”

That was the most Bronson had ever said about why he’d gotten out of the military after ten years. He’d gone in at eighteen. Gotten out at twenty-eight after his team had run into some trouble. Drew didn’t know details, but he was certain they’d lost a few men. Before he could respond, Marina appeared at the door with a big pizza box, and he ran to grab it from her. He knew he looked like an anxious puppy greeting his owner after a long day of work, but he didn’t care. She was becoming an essential part of his life, and he didn’t want to let her go.

Bronson had warned Drew she might not feel the same, but how would Bronson know in the short time he’d been around her. Bron was being his overly cautious self when it came to emotional entanglements.

His heart sank at the possibility she might not feel the same, but he refused to give up hope. Nor could he give up hockey for Marina. He had to do everything for the right reasons, once he figured out what those reasons were.