“Okay,” Dalton whispered.
“Are you parked in your usual spot?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Then he ended the call.
Knowing Tierney was on his way warmed Dalton up, reversing the numbness, chasing it back down his arm to his fingers. He carefully tucked the opera tickets into the envelope, and stuck that under the windshield wiper, as close to its original position as he could remember.
Then he called Luke.
“Are you sure you aren’t overreacting?” Luke asked for the fifth or eighth or hundredth time. Within minutes of Dalton calling, he’d arrived, and he’d even informed dispatch. Dalton totally appreciated it, since the garage was now completely deserted and the sky outside was dark. Luke wasn’t actually on shift, but he could still do police-type things.
Too bad he ruined the rescue with his typical big brother act.
“No, I’m not sure,” Dalton told him again, in the singsongy speech of the truly annoyed. “I think it’s entirely possible I’m overreacting.”
“And you called me anyway?”
“Yes.” He drew out the word, because Luke clearly had some kind of hearing deficiency. “I could swear they had a minimum intelligence requirement for police officers.”
Luke lifted an eyebrow. “Dude, there’s no need to be a dick. You’re the one who called me for help.”
“Sorry. I’m just—I’m a little freaked out.”
“By opera tickets? Are you sure you don’t have a secret admirer?”
Dalton nearly stamped his foot. “It said ‘something to make up for that night.’”
“Yeah,” Luke smirked. “What’d you do to him?”
“I think I’d remember it if I’d been with anyone recently and they’d done something they needed to apologize for.” Dalton folded his arms across his chest, glaring along his nose at his taller brother. “Is this how you treat all your crime victim customers? Because I can see why the police sometimes get a reputation for being uncaring. I don’t think I need to remind you that I’m a key witness in a felony hate crime case, and the phrase ‘that night’ could refer to said hate crime.”
Luke snapped to attention, like Dalton had called forth the ghost of drill sergeants past. Oh, they were really about to get into it, weren’t they?
But his brother surprised him. “Sorry, you’re right.” He nodded once and turned toward the car, then started doing his cop thing, officious and investigative without actually touching much, squatting and leaning and bending.
Dalton hadn’t touched anything else either, other than to take his keys out of the ignition to stop the maddening dinging. He hadn’t even noticed it in the first few minutes after calling Tierney, but by the time Luke was on his way, he’d calmed down enough to hear it over the drumming in his ears.
“Do you have any clean sandwich bags or something?” Luke asked.
Dalton blinked. “What? Why would you—”
“Evidence.”
“Sandwich bags?”
Luke shrugged, poking at the tickets with a pen he’d produced from somewhere. “I don’t carry them around with me. If you wanted someone always prepared to investigate a crime, you should’ve called Peter.”
“He keeps plastic baggies in his trunk in case he randomly has to do some evidence collection?”
Luke snorted. “Or clean up after that mini horse they call a dog.”
“Let me see.” Dalton headed toward the rear of his car. He didn’t think he had any, but maybe a box had fallen under the seat the last time he went grocery shopping. Not likely.
The sound of a vehicle squealing into the garage stopped him a few feet short, his heart slamming into high speed again. He didn’t recognize it—shiny new, black, built like a sports car, with a maniac behind the wheel. Moving toward them so fast that Dalton didn’t have time to jump out of the way before it screeched to a halt ten feet from him. He’d barely recovered from that when Luke was standing in his way, blocking whoever was getting out of the vehicle.
Tierney.
Dalton tried to step around his brother, but Luke’s arm across his rib cage stopped him. “Do you know this guy?”
“Who’s this dude?” Tierney asked at the same moment, advancing on them, fists balled but held next to his thighs.
He chose to answer Tierney. “He’s my brother.”
“He is?” Tierney halted midstep, brow clearing.
One man may have stopped charging, but the other one’s voice got harder. “Who’s he?” It wasn’t a cop voice, Dalton knew that tone, but he knew this one better: big brother. And looking at Tierney, he got it right away. New car, designer suit, and he was here almost as soon as Luke, so obviously Dalton had called him.
He thinks I have a new sugar daddy. Forget that it had been years since Dalton had been with anyone who qualified as such.
“It’s okay, he’s just a friend.” He gripped Luke’s arm, pulling it back, as if he could get his brother to not be so protective. Or think stupid things.
Luke didn’t stand down. “Does he know that?”
Tierney’s brow started to get mulish again, lowering over his eyes. He took another step toward them.
Dalton shoved at Luke’s arm until it moved, hurrying to Tierney and grabbing his wrist. Tierney stopped immediately and finally met Dalton’s gaze.
“You got a new car.”
Tierney blinked. “Um, yeah. It’s a hybrid.”
“Looks like a sports car to me,” Luke said, just a bit of the annoyed singsong tone in his voice.
“You should’ve seen what I had before.”
“It’s still a BMW,” Dalton pointed out.
“Yeah, well, they’re good at brand loyalty.” Tierney’s cheeks had darkened. Was he really blushing?
“I like it.” He would have said it even if he didn’t like it, because Tierney was getting agitated.
“Why are we talking about my car?” Tierney asked too loudly. Dalton slid his hand down and laced their fingers together, hoping it would calm him a little. His voice was back to normal when he leaned closer to Dalton to search his face like he was inspecting him for damage. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. A little . . .” A one-shoulder shrug would have to do because he couldn’t come up with any appropriate words.