Page 8 of Skin Game
“He doesn’t want to talk to me. Mickie made that very clear. I think his exact words were, ‘I need some space.’”
Settling back in her chair with her hands resting in her lap, Greta cocked her head at him. “You have to admit, there’s been a bit of helicoptering on your part. A lot of helicoptering. He’s an adult, he’s gainfully employed, and he has money in savings.”
“He was also behind bars for almost twenty years! What does he know about real life?”
“He was, yes. We know this already and can’t change it. This is not the first or even second time you and I have talked about this.” She nodded sagely, and Casey could tell she was enjoying herself. “But he’s out now, completely exonerated. I know it’s been difficult, especially since you were the only family on the outside who believed in him. That said, it’s beyond time for you to step back a tad, give him room to breathe. And heal. If Mickie needs help, you have to trust that he will ask you for it. Space doesn’t mean he wants you out of his life, it means he knows how to drive and go to the grocery store by himself.”
As if realizing he needed an interruption, Casey’s phone vibrated against the top of his desk. He glanced at the wordCharmingand a picture of Keith taking up the screen. Why was Gabe calling? His heart rate ratcheted up, and Casey held up a finger to pause the conversation. Lecture.
As if he didn’t know his brother couldn’t shop for groceries on his own.
“Gabe?” he said, a tad breathlessly.
“It’s not as bad as it looks, I swear.”
Gabe spoke loud enough that Greta heard him, and she smirked. Greta was the vice president of the Gabriel Karne Fan Club. In spite of himself sometimes, Casey was the de facto president, even if it meant getting phone calls like this one.
Gabriel, Casey had realized early on, had the tendency to downplay the important things and that tendency was coming through strong now. He had been hurt somehow, and he was going to try and play it off.
“What happened? Never mind, where are you?” Casey asked, expecting him to say the emergency room. Maybe jail. Truthfully, Casey wouldn’t have been shocked by one or both of those answers coming from Gabe.
“I’m back home already,” he said.
Right. Because he’d gone off to Westfort on that “job” for Elton and Althea. Casey shut his eyes for a moment, took a breath, then opened them again. Greta was still watching him, still smirking.
“I’ll be right there.”
“Casey, there’s no emergency,” Gabe protested.
But Casey clicked off. He would be the one deciding whether there was an emergency or not.
“I need to get over to Gabe’s. There’s been some kind of incident,” he told Greta.
For her part, Greta rolled her eyes and practically chased him out of the office. “Go away and don’t come back until you can go five minutes without glowering or looming. I’ll finish up this report and take a look through the new-hire files. You should take the rest of the day. Maybe tomorrow too, jeez.”
Casey hesitated. He felt guilty about leaving Greta on her own.
“Go on.” Greta waved emphatically toward the office door. “Get out of here. But maybe take Bowie on a hike before you find out what kind of trouble Gabe managed to get into this time. And don’t forget to call me back and tell me what it is too,” she added while laughing.
Casey grabbed his keys and coat and headed out, waving Bowie into the back of the Wagoneer. A quiet hike in the woods sounded sublime, and maybe that’s the choice he should have made, but he didn’t take Greta’s advice. Instead, he headed toward the RV park, not the woods.
Gabehadbeen hurt. No matter how much the infuriating man tried to make it sound like nothing, Casey could tell he was trying to sugarcoat it, and he didn’t appreciate the effort.
“I don’t knowwhich of you two I am more pissed off at.”
Casey shot a laser glare at Elton first, because this was all hisfault, then Gabriel. Neither one of them appeared particularly quelled by it, which shouldn’t have surprised him. He was losing his edge, getting soft, his glare had wiggle room these days.
For his part, Bowie trotted across the room, giving Gabe a thorough once-over sniff and a lick on the hand before plopping down onto the dog bed in one corner, the special extra cushy one Gabe had spent a ridiculous amount of money on. He’d excused the purchase with some comment about Bowie being the best doggo who deserved the best. Which, of course, Casey couldn’t argue with.
He could, however, argue with Gabriel.
“It’s not as if I don’t have enough to worry about without Gabe gallivanting off to—to—” he sputtered, unable to come up with a descriptor that suited the occasion.
What the fuck had they been thinking? Answer: They had not. Together, Elton, Gabe, and yes, Althea too, he wasn’t about to leave her out, had hatched an outrageous plan, and it had gone sideways. Why had he let them go ahead with it? Because he was losing his edge, that’s why.
Regardless of what Gabe and present company wished to be true, having a key did not give the holder carte blanche to enter another person’s home without their permission. Randy could press charges. If he ever figured out who Gabe was and where he lived. That was unlikely, so they were probably safe on that front. Small mercies. Casey rubbed his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Gabriel Karne was genetically wired to tread the thin line between legal and illegal but had a huge soft spot for underdogs, the quintessential modern-day Robin Hood, and Elton Cox and Althea Mortine had tapped into that aspect of his personality. Becauseof coursethey had. Convincing Gabe to use his “skills” for good and not evil, something along those lines.