26. Chapter 26 – Rae
Z ach’s text was my only warning. It simply read, Simon’s in town.
As much as I wanted to see him, having him show up at San Juan Marine Repair while my dad was in his office was a recipe for disaster.
It never occurred to me that he’d be that foolish.
Apparently, I underestimated the drug that was newlywed bliss.
“Yo, Sun-Rae!”
Slowly, I straightened from the outboard motor I’d been working on.
Simon grinned at me from across the shop, all tanned skin and military-short haircut. I smiled when I saw the slender man next to him.
“Alan!” I rushed toward them, wrapping each in a hug.
I’d spent more time with Alan than Simon on my last visit.
Simon was too busy with work. Alan was a sweetheart, and I couldn’t be happier that he and Simon had found each other.
Simon lifted me off my feet with his bear hug, spinning me until I was dizzy.
I laughed. “Stop that!”
He chuckled, letting me go. “I’ve gotta remember you have your own pit bull now.”
I squinted. “Pit bull? ”
He wrinkled his nose. “Zach and I may have had words at Harbor Brews this morning.”
I groaned. “Simon. Why?”
He smirked. “That’s what you get for not telling me you two have become an item.” He glanced at his watch. “What’s it been? Three days? Five?”
“More like three weeks,” I said dryly.
Alan raised a hand, adding meekly, “Plus, there’s the whole you-were-never-a-couple-thing.” He nudged his husband. “I don’t think we have any room to cast stones.”
Simon shot his husband a wounded look. “What? I can’t mourn the best girlfriend to have never kissed me?”
“Pretty sure I’m the only woman to have never kissed you.” I snapped my fingers. “For that matter, am I also the only woman to have kissed you?”
He paused, considering. “Maybe? You’ve talked me in circles. If that means that I’ve never kissed a girl, then the answer is yes.”
I sighed, pretending to be put-upon. “Yes. That was always the problem with us. Such a complicated non-relationship.”
Simon cleared his throat. “You might need to tell Zach all that again. I’m not sure he believes us.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “He texted me that you were in town.” I punched Simon’s shoulder. “More notice than you gave, by the way.”
“He took a swing at me,” Simon said.
“He’s got it bad,” Alan clucked, shaking his head.
Why did Alan’s words send shivers down my spine?
“Zach did what now?”
“Don’t worry. Drew held him back. But he seemed pissed. You did tell him the whole story, right?” Simon frowned .
“Most of it.”
He glowered. “Then you need to fess up the final details, Sun-Rae. That man is not playing.”
Alan fanned himself. “He got quite protective. Hot .”
“Is it my turn to be jealous of Zach?” Simon asked, holding his husband’s gaze.
They exchanged smiles. The kind long-term couples gave when they privately acknowledge they’re yanking each other’s chains. I suppressed the flash of envy. Apparently, my man was trying to start fights over me in public. So, we had that going for us.
“It’s good to see you, Simon.”
“Right back at you, Sun-Rae.”
“How long are you in town for?”
“Just a few days. Alan needed to meet my family. I’ve talked to my dad.” He held my gaze. “And shared your offer. I think we’re on track there.” He smiled. “At the end of the week, we’ve got to get back to our apartment and dogs, but you’ll come visit us?”
I nodded. “You know I will. Thanks for everything, Simon.”
My dad shuffled out of his office, hitching up his pants. His expression was anything but welcoming, but he painted a veneer of civility over it. “Simon Reynolds. That you?”
“Yes, sir. How have you been?”
“Getting along.” His gaze encompassed me. “Wish you hadn’t dropped my daughter like yesterday’s news. It’s got me in a pretty pickle with your dad. Anything you can do to help me with that?”
Simon slid an apologetic glance my way. “Afraid not.”
My dad grunted, gesturing to Alan. “This the new husband?”
“Alan Reynolds,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand for my dad to shake .
Dad tilted his chin, ignoring Alan’s outstretched hand. “Good for you.”
I closed my eyes, as if not being able to watch my dad make a fool of himself would erase some of my shame.
“Sun-Rae, we’ve got to get going, but we’ll see you around.”
My dad pivoted toward his office, not bothering with manners. I hugged Alan and Simon, Simon getting a sad little chuckle from me when he lifted me off my feet this time.
“We appreciate you, Rae. I know it wasn’t always easy, but we’re at the end now.”
My smile faltered at the edges, but I held firm. Simon deserved happiness. He’d fought his own battles. Ones I knew nothing about. I was sure my dad’s behavior was only the tip of the iceberg.
By the time I got home, I was spoiling for a fight. Only to find Gran home alone.
“Where are Zach and the kids?” I asked.
Gran lifted a shoulder, not taking her eyes off her book. “Dunno. Think he sent a text a while back about taking the kids out for ice cream or something.”
“Oh.” If he was hiding to take the wind from my sails, it wouldn’t save him. I’d worked up a head of steam, stewing over what I’d say.
“You going to be home a while?” she asked.
“Sure. I’m going to start on dinner.”
She dropped her book, getting to her feet. “Good. I’ll be back at bedtime. Don’t wait up.”
With that, Gran scooted out the door. I rushed after her. “Wait! Where are you going?”
“I’ve got a date.”
“You do?” I must not have hidden my disbelief .
She sniffed. “I’m old, not dead.” She hopped into the cab of her truck. A few seconds later, she was a dust cloud going down the road.
“Huh.” For a moment, I felt bad about cramping her style.
Still feeling off-balance, I wandered into the kitchen, pulling out ingredients to make burgers.
My hands moved on autopilot—lighting the grill and chopping the onion, lettuce, and tomato.
It didn’t even occur to me that I was alone. Unprotected.
Until it was too late.
I stood at the grill, eyes watering from the smoke. Maybe the burgers would be more well done than medium, but the kids wouldn’t complain. The damn things had shrunk too. I should have stuck with hot dogs. Lost in my own thoughts, it took me a moment to register the footsteps behind me.
“Don’t turn around.”
The gruff order had the opposite effect. I spun. The bulky man in the mask was dressed in a long-sleeved tee and pants. Too much for a sunny summer day. But perfect for concealing his identity. Still… his voice was familiar.
An eerie calm took over. SAR training didn’t cover direct confrontation, but it had prepared me for high-pressure situations. To calmly assess and look for escape routes. To keep my breathing under control, even as my pulse sky-rocketed.
“Sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter,” the man bit out, eyes shifting from me to the house. “I want the safe.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Liar.”
It was worth a shot. I held up my hands. “I don’t have it on me,” I modified. The way his eyes flickered, constantly shifting, made me think he was nervous. Or high .
“We’re going to go inside, and you’re going to give it to me. No funny business.”
“Or what?” I asked, not sure where my bravado came from.
While he wasn’t holding a weapon, it didn’t mean he didn’t have one.
His bulk alone made him a threat. The more he spoke, the more I picked up on his small tells.
The anxious way he clenched and released his fist. The gentle lilt in his voice.
Brandon Chen. He had to know I’d recognize him, making this confrontation incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Possibly both.
“Lady, I just want what’s mine. Some bad people will be after me if I don’t take care of business.”
“What’s in the safe?”
“That’s my business. Now where is it?”
I gestured toward the house. “Inside.”
“After you.”
The mocking edge in his voice grated. I didn’t like him at my back.
But I doubted I could beat him inside and lock the doors before he grabbed me.
If he were desperate enough, it wouldn’t matter if he had a weapon or not.
He had more than fifty pounds on me. It’d be enough.
Yoga and hiking were great exercise but lousy defense.
I couldn’t exactly downward dog him into submission.
Leading him inside would give me options. Knives in the kitchen. The poker by the fireplace. All I had to do was get close enough to reach one.
I moved woodenly toward the back door, assessing and discarding potential weapons as I envisioned the house ahead. Funny thing about houses with kids—they were light on weaponry. But if I could get him to the garage… I diverted, leading the way to the workshop side door.
“Hey. Inside. ”
I lifted a shoulder, pretending a cool I didn’t feel.
“If you want to see the kids’ inventory of stuffed animals and board games, be my guest.” I cast a sideways glance at Brandon.
Now that I’d recognized him, the black mask did little to conceal his identity.
“I think you tried searching there already, am I right?”
“Where. Is. It.” He bit out the words, menace in every syllable.
I quaked inside, my earlier bravado turning to fear. Lying to him was a dangerous game, one I wasn’t sure I had the skill to play. The weight of his gaze pressed down on me, searching. Peeling back layers I wasn’t ready to expose. One wrong word, one flicker of hesitation, and he’d know.
“We discovered a safe in the garage and left it there. It was too big to move.” I was lying through my teeth, but Brandon didn’t know me well enough to spot my tells. When he followed me toward the garage, it confirmed my suspicion that he’d never seen the safe. So what did he think was in it?
“You say bad people want what’s in the safe. Does that mean the same bad people murdered Jordan?”
Brandon grunted, neither confirmation nor a denial.
“For all I know, you murdered my cousin for whatever’s in that safe. You trying to take over his business?”
“Jordan dying fucked things up for me, so no. Just let me get the safe and get out of here. You can pretend this never happened.”
“Do you even know what’s in the safe?”
“Just show me where it is,” he growled. “Enough questions.”
That was a no. But it was becoming clear that he and Jordan had been running something on their boat.
Guns? Drugs? Jordan wasn’t keeping exotic animals or illegal food imports in a safe.
Did the quote-unquote bad people murder Jordan?
Or was Brandon executing his own version of a hostile takeover?
Waiting months to retrieve whatever was in the safe didn’t smack of careful planning.
Jia and Jordan’s garage was attached to the house with three entry points.
The roll-up doors, the door off the mud room, and a side door.
Keeping Brandon out of the house seemed like a good idea, given it had negligible weapons and a large portable safe sitting on the living room coffee table.
That left me with the roll-up doors or the side door. I tried the side first. Locked.
Brandon’s soft growl of frustration made me shiver. If I wasn’t careful, he’d decide he didn’t need me at all, that it would be faster to search on his own.
“I forgot that we locked this one. I’ve got the code for the keypad on the roll-ups.”
Hiding the code from him seemed more-or-less pointless, but I did it anyway.
The garage doors rose on a mechanical groan, letting the early evening seep into the cramped interior.
Quickly, I surveyed the piles, looking for something, anything that would make a weapon.
Considering and discarding most options as I scanned.
The blow torch that had given me the idea to bring him to the garage would take too long to light.
As much as I loved the mental picture of roasting his balls for scaring me, it wasn’t a practical weapon.
The screwdrivers were too lightweight to do much damage, but that depended on my aim.
A Phillips head to the jugular would take him out, but it would also make me a murderer.
Or a man slaughterer. Or a self-defense-er.
I shook my head, my thoughts running in ten directions at once.
Focus . I needed something heavy or sharp.
I picked my way along the first aisle. Even Brandon seemed cowed by the overwhelming towers of junk .
Jordan’s old bowling trophy wouldn’t be a bad choice.
Ditto the hammer on the back bench. I wanted to threaten Brandon.
Make him back off. But not do so much damage that they carted him off in a body bag.
He deserved a few bruises for his trouble.
Maybe a broken bone. But I’d leave any more severe punishment to the authorities. If Zach didn’t get hold of him first.
He and the kids should be home any minute for dinner.
Brandon really hadn’t thought this through.
He’d expected me to be cowed into doing his bidding quickly with them gone.
Too bad for him I was taking my sweet time.
Brandon didn’t deserve whatever was in that safe.
He could deny any part in Jordan’s death, but he was involved, or he wouldn’t be here.
“This is trash. Where is the damn safe?”
“Jordan was good at camouflage. It’s back there.”
Brandon snorted. “Jordan was a fucking pack rat. Camouflage, my ass.”
Reminding Brandon that it had worked seemed unwise. By my count, he’d already searched the house twice and found nothing. For all we knew, there might have been other attempts we’d missed. He’d gotten sloppier as he got more desperate.
The distant crunch of gravel reached my ears, and I bit my lip. Either the cavalry had arrived, or additional hostages.
I picked up my pace, leading Brandon deeper into the garage.