Getting It Right (The Atticus Chronicles) Read online

  Beside her, Skye let out a breath in an audible whoosh and dropped her end of the garland to start fanning herself. “Do you need a cigarette as badly as I do?” she asked sotto voce.

  It took PJ a second to come back to reality enough to register Skye’s innuendo. She blinked a couple of times and started to laugh. And then, there they were, the two of them, both slightly tipsy on spiced rum, giggling and snorting until tears rolled down their faces at their own idiotically juvenile behavior. Hushing each other only made it worse as they listened to St. John let himself into the front hall and climb the curving staircase to the second floor.

  Skye sobered first, wiping her face. “Oh, God, I needed that. It’s been a rough week.”

  A hiccupping snort escaped from PJ and Skye gave her mock stern look. She raised her gaze toward the ceiling as footsteps crossed the floor above them. “Let it never be said that we cannot appreciate beauty for beauty’s sake alone,” Skye said in a lofty tone, then ruined it with a mournful sigh. “But, damn, it really is a crime. Are you sure he’s gay?”

  “Yup. Sorry, but that’s what Rome told me when he called and asked me to rent him the apartment. Besides, look where he works.” St. John was a bouncer at the gay club in town. Yes, strange as it seemed in a small town, there was a thriving gay bar, The Meeting Ground, on the other side of the square.

  PJ hadn’t wanted to rent out the other apartment on the second floor. She’d spent a great deal of money renovating the exterior of the building and the store. She’d barely started on the rental apartment, leaving her own with its leaky plumbing and drafty windows to be tackled once she had money coming in from a tenant.

  When her brother had called two weeks ago she’d explained the rental apartment wasn’t ready yet, but Rome knew her well, playing on her soft heart with Sebastian St. John’s sad story, and she’d relented. Not that she’d had a lot of choice since Rome had informed her St. John was arriving the next day.

  “Anyway, you should know better than I that he’s gay. Every heterosexual, red-blooded male with eyes gives you ‘the look’ when he meets you. St. John acted like you were his little sister, ignoring you like you weren’t even in the room after he shook your hand.”

  “Yeah, lucky me,” Skye muttered morosely. PJ wasn’t sure if her comment was in reference to getting “the look” from every man she’d ever met since she was twelve or not getting “the look” from St. John.

  “So, how is your pain-in-the-ass brother?” Skye asked casually. Too casually, and PJ stifled a smile. Rome hadn’t given Skye “the look” either, though, she suspected, for an entirely different reason than St. John. Her brother was an investigative reporter who wrote bestselling true crime books on the side. She’d introduced him to Skye last year when he’d been visiting, thinking the two would have a lot in common, but they’d struck sparks off one another from the instant they’d met, unable to be in the same room together for more than five minutes without bickering. Each professed to detest the other but neither failed to ask PJ about the other one if his or her name cropped up in the conversation.

  “Busy. Stressed. He’s working on a new book about the Chinese gangs and triads in Vancouver.”

  “Oh. Well. That’s good. Uh, not that he’s stressed, I don’t mean. You know…that he’s busy.” Skye waved a dismissing hand and picked up the discarded garland. “Okay, enough frivolity. Let’s get this finished. If St. John’s home, then it must be well after midnight and I, for one, would like to get some sleep tonight.”

  “Yeah, me, too. Tomorrow’s Sunday and the store doesn’t open until ten, but I’ve got the children’s Christmas party in the afternoon. Don’t worry,” she added in response to Skye’s panicky look. “I’m not going to ask you to help again. But I do need to get to bed soon. I need to be sharp to keep up with two dozen small children.”

  Skye grinned at her. “Plus you have to start researching recipes for round food. And shop for red lingerie.”

  PJ snorted. “Like anybody but me will ever see it anyway.”

  * * * *

  Bastian St. John closed the door to his apartment with a thud and stomped straight for the fireplace to light the kindling he’d left ready to go. The heating system in this old place was dubious at best and the only way to guarantee warmth was a fire.

  Damn, he hated the winter months in Ontario. Give him a rainy, foggy Vancouver winter over this bitter cold any day. Shit, when had he turned into such a wuss? It wasn’t like he’d walked twenty miles in a blizzard. He’d only crossed a park, for Christ’s sake.

  The cold wasn’t really the source of his foul mood and he knew it. It was just the most convenient excuse. He didn’t want to want to think about, or even acknowledge, the real reason for his crappy attitude.

  The tips of his fingers were tingling as feeling returned to them and, after checking the time, he left the comforting heat billowing out of the fireplace to cross the sparsely furnished room to his makeshift card table desk. He booted up his laptop and logged on to Skype but didn’t make a call. Instead, he made a coffee in the tiny kitchen, then kicked back in the one comfortable chair in the room, long legs crossed, feet up on the card table, waiting.

  He was feeling just cranky and contrary enough tonight not to be the caller, knowing the other party would be in his face within five minutes of the preset time when Bastian failed to call. Sipping his coffee, he watched the seconds tick by on the old wall clock until the computer emitted a soft beep ninety seconds after the predetermined time.

  Bastian smiled in perverse satisfaction. Yup, right on time. Predictable, protective, over-anxious big brother.

  Bastian hit a couple of keys on the laptop and the haggard visage of Rome James, PJ’s older brother, appeared on the screen. Aside from the obvious male-female size difference, the resemblance between the two was uncanny. Same chestnut colored hair, though Rome’s was much shorter and tamer than PJ’s curly mane that picked up light making it glow with every shade from gold to deep auburn. Same attractive even features, Rome’s much bolder than those of PJ’s delicate, pretty heart-shaped face. Same incredible, long-lashed green eyes. Same sexy Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie mouth, depending on your perspective and orientation.

  Not that Bastian had spent much time studying Rome’s lips, or the rest of his face, but comparisons were hard to resist knowing both siblings, and he sure as shit had PJ’s face memorized. He only wished to hell he didn’t.

  “You’re late” were the first words out of Rome’s mouth. “Is Peej okay?”

  “Relax, big brother, she’s fine.” Now that Bastian was warm again, he was starting to feel shitty about his petty revenge and taking his rotten mood out on Rome. Bastian’s problem was not Rome’s fault and PJ’s brother had enough problems of his own to worry about without Bastian adding to them. Rome had good reason to be worried and paranoid over his sister. The man was in a shitload of trouble. And it was trouble that could spill over onto his sister, which was why Bastian was here.

  “How you holding up?” he asked Rome now, which was as touchy-feely as Bastian was willing to get in letting Rome know he was worried about him.

  Rome shrugged tiredly. “I just want this whole goatfuck over with.” Yeah, Bastian got that.

  In the course of investigating his latest book, Rome had uncovered evidence ultimately used in the arrests of several key players in a war between two rival Chinese triads in Vancouver.

  The triad war had ended with the executions of members from both sides and the killing of three innocent bystanders. Rome was slated to testify after the holidays, early in the New Year, but two and half weeks ago, he’d gotten a death threat. Short and simple: recant or he and his family would die.

  Rome had gone into protective custody and his parents, in nearby Victoria, had a police presence 24/7. Rome hadn’t wanted to tell his parents but they needed to be vigilant and it was a little hard to explain away cops outside their door and following them all over the city. But Rome had also been worried abou
t his sister half a country away, which is where Bastian came into the picture.

  The two men had met ten years before when Bastian had still been on the Vancouver Police force. Rome’s nose for news had nearly blown Bastian’s cover when he’d started investigating the same crime Bastian was working on undercover. They’d come to blows over it but, once the pissing contest was done and both men had cooled down, they’d found that each had a measure of respect for the other and they shared a good many interests.

  When Bastian had left the Vancouver PD two years ago to join another friend’s private security company in Toronto, the friendship had survived. Bastian was the first person Rome called when he’d needed protection for his sister. Bastian hadn’t hesitated to offer help, and not only because of their friendship. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to finally meet the woman whose laughing pictures all over her brother’s house had fascinated him for years.

  Bastian had wanted Rome to tell PJ the truth, pointing out that it was her life, that she had a right to know, and a need to know, so she could be on the alert. But Rome had insisted that being alert was what Bastian was there for and that his sister didn’t need to be worried about him and freaked by something that might never happen to her. Bastian had agreed reluctantly. Rome had come up with the bouncer job, and the boneheaded cock and bull sob story he’d sold his sister, all on his own before Bastian had had a chance to develop his own cover.

  Thanks for nothing, buddy.

  Rome was asking him a question and Bastian brought his mind back to the conversation at hand.

  “…you doing in that backwater? Bored out of your skull yet?”

  Bastian answered with a non-committal half shrug. Actually, he kind of liked it here, aside from the weather. He’d never lived in a small town before.

  Rome’s expression changed and a sly grin helped erase the lines of strain on his face as he asked, “So how’s the bouncer business?”

  “Screw you, dickhead. Have I said thanks for that cover story, by the way?”

  “Only every time we’ve talked, St. John.” Rome laughed. “Quit griping. It could be worse. You could be posing as a male stripper.”

  “The Meeting Ground doesn’t have strippers.”

  “Exactly. Lucky for you.”

  Bastian cursed again.

  “Ah, come on, Bastian, it’s perfect and you know it. Neither of the triads will suspect you if they show up. You’ve got a job so you don’t have to look like some kind of lazy, unemployed loser looking for excuses to hang around the house. You can see Peej’s store and any unusual activity on the street from the door of the bar.”

  “Yeah, perfect, unless I have to leave the door to break up a fight,” Bastian grumbled.

  Rome snorted. “There hasn’t been a fight in that bar in ten years, I bet. Dave and Jack run a pretty tight ship. Besides, we both know you’re really just there as scenery for the clientele.”

  Now it was Bastian’s turn to snort. “Yeah, thanks for that, too. And you never did tell me what happened to the real ‘scenery’.”

  “Enjoying an extended vacation in Key West with full pay.”

  “Nice. My price is two weeks enjoying the nude beaches in the south of France. You owe me big, buddy, especially for that bullshit story you sold your sister making me into the victim of a gay-bashing, looking for a new start in a gay-friendly place.”

  “I was on a roll and it fit with the job. I had to explain your smashed up pretty face somehow, didn’t I?”

  Yeah, a hockey puck could really smash up a face. The shot had come from one of the eight-year old peewee players Bastian coached part-time who, fortunately, hadn’t had enough power to do permanent damage. But Bastian had still been sporting the vestiges of a black eye, a bruised cheekbone and three stitches along his jaw line when Rome had called. All that was left now was a small scar on his jaw.

  “And that’s the best you could come up with? Shit, James, you’re a writer. And you could have just told the truth. I’m surprised your sister bought it. She doesn’t strike me as the gullible type.”

  “She’s not, but she’s got a big heart and a real soft spot for underdogs that she tries hard to hide behind a tough girl front.”

  “What kind of sob story did you give Dave and Jack? In fact, how do you even know them? Two law-abiding gay club owners don’t seem the kind of guys a hard hitting investigative reporter like you runs across every day.”

  “Met them last year when I was staying with PJ after she broke her leg. They’re good guys. I told them I needed a favor for Peej’s safety and they were in. Didn’t ask why and I didn’t tell them. They’re her friends.”

  “Yeah, I got that,” Bastian said dryly. “They’re over here every day, checking up on her. Especially Jack, who, by the way, doesn’t like me,” he added with a scowl. He didn’t mention the feeling was mutual.

  Rome grinned. “That’s because Jack isn’t gay. He’s got the hots for Peej.”

  Yeah, he’d kind of picked up on that, too.

  “…smart businessmen who know a golden opportunity when they see it,” Rome was saying. “Vacation town with a two kilometer long beach that close to Toronto and advertising that it specializes in gay marriages? A no-brainer for a place to open a gay club.”

  “Guess so.” Bastian raised his coffee cup in silent salute to Dave and Jack’s smarts, even if he didn’t like Jack, and then punched a couple of keys on the laptop as he said, “I’m sending a couple of pictures of PJ I took earlier tonight to your cell phone so you can see for yourself she’s fine.”

  When Bastian had first moved in, he’d planted small motion-sensor cameras in the central hall downstairs, the hall on the second floor with the doors leading to his and PJ’s apartments, inside the bookstore and the back outside entrances to both the tearoom kitchen and the two apartments from a shared balcony.

  Each camera also had an alarm hooked up to a monitor he could carry with him. It wasn’t ideal, especially if PJ went out after he went to work, though all he had to do was signal Jack or Dave he was leaving, but it was the best he had. He was only one guy and he had to sleep sometime.

  PJ had put in a state of the art security system and first rate locks when she’d renovated so at least he hadn’t had to come up with a way to bring security measures up in a conversation. So far, PJ hadn’t caught him following her to the grocery store, the doctor’s office or on any of her other errands, but it was a small town and he didn’t think his luck was going to hold for much longer. She was a smart woman.

  To date, this job had been little more than a glorified babysitting job, but neither he nor Rome was willing to risk PJ’s life by underestimating the triads.

  Sipping his now lukewarm coffee, Bastian watched Rome on the computer screen as he pulled up the pictures on his cell phone of PJ and her friend, Skye, isolated from the camera in the central hall when Skye had arrived tonight.

  “Holy shit, she’s one hot babe,” Rome said softly, his tone almost reverent.

  Bastian choked on his mouthful of coffee and sloshed what was left in the cup down the front of his clothes as he swung his feet to the floor. “For fuck’s sake, James, she’s your sister!”

  There was dead silence from Rome for a full five seconds before he said matter-of-factly, “Um, actually? I was referring to Peej’s friend. Skye.”

  Shit! Shit, shit, shit!

  Rome’s eyes had narrowed and he was giving Bastian a decidedly unfriendly look as he asked in a cold, quiet voice, “You got a thing for my baby sister, St John?”

  And there it was on the table. The whole foul mood-inducing bitch of a problem Bastian had been avoiding. Yeah, he definitely had a thing for Rome’s baby sister. She wasn’t his baby sister, or a baby anything in his book, and every hormone in his body had taken notice with a screaming primitive me-man-you-woman vengeance.

  PJ James was seriously hot and Bastian couldn’t even be in the same room with her without his cock twitching to do something about it. PJ wasn�
��t supermodel gorgeous like her friend Skye—and yeah, he’d noticed Skye. He was male and he’d have to be dead not to, even some of the gay guys at the club sat up and took notice when Skye walked by.

  But it wasn’t Skye who got Bastian’s motor revved from zero to sixty in two seconds flat. It was PJ, with her more lush feminine curves, pretty face, captivating smile and engaging personality. The longer he watched her interact with her friends and clientele, the more he not only wanted her soft body naked and burning with passion beneath his, but the more he liked her.

  And he couldn’t and wouldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  Besides the not-so-small obstacle of PJ thinking he was gay, she was his primary—he was here to protect her. She was his job. A non-paying favor of a job for a buddy, maybe, but still, a job. And that was a line Bastian never crossed. Period. Then there was the whole unwritten guy code thing: never hit on a buddy’s sister, especially his baby sister.

  All of which brought him back to Rome and his over-protective, junkyard dog attitude. It pissed Bastian off that it was okay with Rome if not-gay-Jack had the hots for his sister but not okay for Bastian, but he shook it off. The problem was Bastian’s alone and he was never going to act on his interest, so there was no need to get Rome’s hackles up further by talking about it.

  Of course, it wasn’t PJ’s problem any more than it was Rome’s, and Bastian had been taking his sexual frustration out on her with his nasty attitude. It wouldn’t hurt him to at least be civil to her.

  Bastian chose to defend himself to Rome by going on the offensive. “Me? You’re the one ogling his little sister’s best friend. You got a thing for Skye Hagens, James?”

  “No. Hell, no,” Rome answered quickly, a little too quickly, maybe. “She might look like a walking wet dream but she’s a hell-on-wheels, first class bitch of a nightmare.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Don’t…” A series of beeps interrupted Rome. “What’s that?”

  “Hold on.” Bastian pulled up the camera feed from the front hall on his small monitor, then said to Rome, “Everything’s fine. It’s just Skye leaving. I want to make sure everything’s quiet for the night. I’ll check in with you same time tomorrow.”