Chapter Twelve

October 8

New York City

Miles’s twin brother stood like a colossus in the center of the room. Miles was tall, nearly six-three, but Miller—his buddies called him “Tox”—was bigger in height and breadth. He was also a protector by nature. Miles knew Miller must have been an incredible SEAL with his combination of physical strength and penchant for self-sacrifice. Miles didn’t let himself think about how much he had missed having his twin by his side.

A hiss, or more accurately, a rasping screech, emanated from the pet carrier in his brother’s hand. Miller’s mouth tilted into a devilish smirk.

“I guess my new security measures need some tweaking,” Miles deadpanned.

They returned to the living room. Miller set the cage on the coffee table and sank onto the couch. “I still have my key,” he explained unapologetically.

Miles sat next to his brother and shoved his arm. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but why are you here, Miller?”

“Bro, I think you need to start calling me Tox. Only Calliope calls me Miller these days. And it’s usually in the heat of the moment if you get my drift.”

Miles cradled his ribs with one hand and held up the other to stop his brother from elaborating. “Say no more.”

A move like that didn’t escape his twin’s notice. Miller, Tox , always had a sixth sense about Miles.

“What happened?”

Miles lifted his chin toward the pet carrier. “Can we discuss the elephant in the room first?”

“Bro, no way an elephant could fit in there.”

“Fuck off.”

Tox laughed. “I brought you a present.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tox leaned forward and patted the top of the cage; a black paw swiped out from the front opening, and his brother snatched his hand back reflexively, then covered the move by cracking his knuckles. Tox lifted the latch and opened the small door. “Miles, meet Loco.”

A black shadow flashed across the coffee table, darted into the kitchen, up the cabinet shelves to the top of the fridge, and disappeared above the exposed ductwork in the ceiling.

“What the fuck?”

“Nothing to worry about. He’s very low-maintenance and great at catching rats.”

Miles felt his face morph into a pose from long ago, as if muscle memory had taken over and reverted to the familiar what the hell do you think you’re doing expression. Tox saw it, too, and pointed at him with a smile.

“Tox.”

His brother sighed. “Calliope’s doctor thinks Loco shouldn’t be around for the pregnancy. Cats, hunters especially, can spread toxoplasmosis.”

“Her doctor said this?”

“Yes. I may have researched it online and asked about it, but the doctor agrees that Loco needs to visit Uncle Miles for the time being.”

“I don’t want a cat.”

“That’s probably best. He doesn’t want a human either.”

“Tox.”

His brother continued as if Miles hadn’t spoken. “The vet in Beaufort banned him, but a guy in The East Village saw Loco once when he ate rat poison. Loco tolerated that guy.”

“Because the cat was dying.”

“And semi-conscious. I’ll leave his number.”

“I’m gone all the time. I can’t have a fucking cat.”

Tox pushed up off the couch and wandered into the kitchen. “So, you gonna tell me who tuned you up Saturday night?”

Miles looked surprised, then narrowed his gaze. “You had that twin thing again, didn’t you.”

“It hadn’t happened in so long, I forgot what it was. Thought I was passing out.”

“I had a run-in with a client,” Miles said.

Tox stopped halfway to the fridge and turned back, bumping into Miles. “What kind of rich asshole gets physical?”

“The mobster congressman kind.”

Tox shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?”

Miles waited for Tox to lead the way, then said, “No shit. The government these days makes the NBA look like a monastery.”

“What happened?”

Miles followed his twin and gingerly sat on a barstool at the island. “Misunderstanding.”

Tox stood with a pint of blueberries in one hand and a carton of Chinese food in the other. “Seems like an overreaction to go to blows over a misunderstanding.”

“Heard of Chug Ugentti?”

“Who hasn’t? The Al Capone of Congress.” Tox offered Miles the lo mein. Miles reached for it, then changed his mind.

“He didn’t take too kindly to being turned down.”

Tox opened the blueberries and emptied half the pint into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully before saying, “He still in construction in Jersey?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I’ll handle it. I deal with a lot of people used to getting their way. This was a tantrum. It’s over.”

It wasn’t over, and Miles knew it, but he couldn’t have his brother leaping to his defense. For a year as a kid in that house, he had called out in his sleep for his twin. Until The Man told Miles if he woke him up one more time, he’d be sleeping in the garage. Miles slept with a sock in his mouth after that. He’d long ago learned he would have to solve his own problems.

“You know how to reach me.” Tox opened the Chinese food and sniffed. Satisfied, he dug through drawers until he found a fork.

“How’s your wife?” Miles asked.

Tox held the noodles inches from his mouth with a grin. “Fucking gorgeous. God, I can’t wait til she’s out to here.” He held his hand a foot away from his middle.

Miles picked up a stray blueberry from the counter and ate it. He started to ask another question when a distinctive alarm sounded from his phone in the bedroom.

“Shit.” Miles slid from the stool and hurried back to grab the device.

“What is it?”

Miles returned with his eyes on the screen. “Clara.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. She’s dabbling in online dating. Her father asked me to do some additional vetting of her prospects.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

His brother’s comment barely registered as Miles scrolled the latest guy’s profile. “Jesus, you’d think she’d have a more selective screening process. Look at this shithead.”

He spun the phone across the counter. Tox chewed as he scrolled through the bio. “I don’t know, Mi. He seems decent enough. Maybe a little boring.”

“Boring? The guy has creeper written all over him. An entomologist? He’s probably like those two psychos in Silence of the Lambs .”

“They were the good guys, dumbass.”

“Whatever.”

Miles and his brother were fraternal twins. They didn’t look exactly alike, but they did have nearly identical chocolate-brown eyes. Two of which were currently assessing Miles with amused suspicion.

“Oh, fuck off. You know as well as I do, most of these assholes are predators.” He gestured to the phone. “Forgive me for being cautious.”

Tox accepted his reasoning and said, “You know, Twitch can help you with background checks. That shit is a walk in the park for her.”

“Thanks, but I got it.” Miles would definitely not share his unique method of ensuring Clara’s safety. His brother already had too many crazy notions about his and Clara’s nonexistent relationship.

Tox wiped his hands on a napkin and tossed it along with the empty carton into the trash. “You know I’m here if you need me.”

The words burned in Miles’s chest. He had spent years teaching himself not to need his twin. The benign comment only reminded him never to rely on anyone else. “Thanks.” Miles stood, and they both sidestepped in the same direction, continuing to block Tox’s path to the door. His brother gave a frustrated half-laugh and stepped around Miles. They were out of sync, and they both knew it.

At the door, Tox stood silent for a beat with his back to the room. Then, without another word, he left.