“Dom doesn’t work, period.”
Rowan sat on the leather couch, her dark hair mussed and cheeks flushed, a blanket wrapped around her obviously naked body.
“Hey, Ro. Sorry to interrupt,” he said.
“No, you’re not,” Davey muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “This couldn’t wait until morning?”
Okay, if he were honest, it probably could’ve. They weren’t leaving for Antarctica for a few more days, and it wasn’t like he or Davey could do anything about his growing suspicions tonight. But Rue had been weirdly silent on the ride back to her hotel, which left him amped up and jittery like he’d downed one of her energy drinks. He needed to talk it out with someone.
And that someone was always his older brother.
Davey sighed and opened the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. “Seriously, El. I don’t say this often, but Dom’s right. You need a life beyond work.”
The same could’ve been said about Davey a few months ago, but Elliot didn’t point that out. Instead, he knelt to give Davey’s dog, Luka, some ear scratches.
“Oh, leave him alone, Davey. We were done anyway.” Rowan stood and scooped up her discarded clothes. “Is this about Rue?”
He nodded. “She was right to call me.”
Rowan swore softly. “Of course she’s gotten herself into trouble again. God, Dad’s going to flip. Okay,” she said on a heavy exhale. “Let me get dressed and we’ll talk.”
Davey’s hand lightly brushed her back as she passed, and his gaze softened in a way Elliot had never seen before Rowan came into his brother’s life.
It was the same adoring way, he realized, that their dad often looked at their mom.
Elliot looked away. Not because he was uncomfortable with the affection or casual intimacy, but because he didn’t like the sudden, sharp stab of jealousy. Of his brothers, he’d been the only one who wanted to find what their parents had. He’d always picture himself married by the time he was thirty, with a couple of kids and a dog—not Davey, who had been married to his SEAL team, or Dom, who loved the playboy lifestyle too much to settle down. But here he was, days from his thirtieth birthday, withnothing but work and an empty apartment waiting for him when he got home.
Rowan disappeared into the second bathroom at the back of the apartment, and Davey grabbed his shirt from a chair, pulling it over his head. He headed toward the kitchen. “Drink?”
Elliot followed him. “Yeah, I’ll take a beer if you have one.”
Davey’s two-story apartment mirrored Elliot’s upstairs—same high ceilings, same exposed brick, same long windows looking out at the quiet Brooklyn street. But where Elliot’s place had always been spare and orderly, Davey’s had been almost austere, a bare-bones crash pad that spoke more of discipline than comfort. Now it felt lived in. A knit throw draped over the back of the couch, a stack of well-worn novels on the end table, a potted plant somehow thriving on the windowsill. All Rowan’s touches, softening the hard edges Davey had never bothered to hide.
Upstairs, his own place still felt like a staging area, not a home.
Davey took a beer from the fridge, popped the top with an opener, and passed it over the island. Elliot took it gratefully. The cold bottle felt good against his palm, grounding him after the surreal experience of playing Rue’s devoted fiancé all evening.
“So what happened?” Davey asked, leaning against the counter.
Elliot took a long pull from the bottle before answering. “Frost’s party was crawling with Praetorian.”
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be without confirmation.”
Davey’s expression hardened. “So that bastard’s still playing both sides.”
“I don’t think he knows any other way.” Elliot ran a hand through his hair, still stiff with product from the party. “There’sa geologist who moves like he’s done multiple tours in special forces.”
“Name?”
“Dr. Noah Braddock.”
Davey nodded. “I’ll have Daphne run him through the system tomorrow.”
Rowan returned from the bathroom, now dressed in what appeared to be one of Davey’s t-shirts and a pair of leggings. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, all traces of their interrupted activities erased.
“What else?” she asked, perching on the arm of the couch.
