Page 1 of My Brother's Enemy
1
RAIN
Kansas City
Ishouldn’t have bought the gun.
What was I thinking?
I mean, I knew what I was thinking, but…What was I thinking?
A cold dose of reality slapped me in the face, and I slumped down.
Stupid. I was so stupid…
I sat in my kitchen, staring at the handgun on my table. Just staring at it. As soon as I got home after buying it, I’d put it there as if it might burn me.
I couldn’t bring myself to touch it again—not to move it, put it away, orfuck, use it for the reason I bought it. I couldn’t even think about that.
Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.
My phone buzzed, and I jumped, cursing. This was ridiculous. All of it. I reached for my phone and shoved up from my seat, needing space from the gun as I answered the call.
“Hello?” That came out garbled. I cleared my throat and tried again, stronger this time. “Hello! Sorry. This is Rain.” Powerful.Attagirl.
My name was Dylan Rain Connors. I was the third kid, following Daniel and Dane, and since my dad was already hooked on Dylan, the fact that I was a girl had no impact on his decision. He still named me Dylan, so my mom chose my middle name.
“Is this Dylan Connors?” asked the man’s voice on the phone. “Sports psychologist consultant?”
“Yes, but you can refer to me as a behavioral or mindset consultant. And it’s Rain, please.”
I had degrees in sports psychology, but my doctorate had focused on professional athletics. These days I helped professional athletes do better. Entire teams had hired me, as well as individuals, but what nearly all of my clients had in common was discretion. They didn’t want it out there that they needed a “doc” or “shrink” to help unravel whatever was stopping them from performing to their potential. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t either of those things. I was not their doctor, nor their shrink for their personal life.
“Can I help you with something?” I asked.
“Yes. Or so I’m hoping. You were recommended to me by a colleague, Gathaway.”
Oh. Justin had helped set me on my career path. I owed a lot of good things to him. “Of course. Justin. He’s a good person.”
“He is, and before I tell you my name or why I’m calling, I’m hoping you’ll meet with me. Dinner. I’d like to pitch something to you.”
I frowned, but a call like this wasn’t that unusual in my line of work.
His area code was 612, Minnesota—where I’d lived for half of my life. And he’d used Justin’s name on purpose.
I already knew I was going to hear him out because of Justin, but it just so happened that I’d be in Minneapolis over the weekend for a client.
I moved to the island, picking up a pen. “Okay. Tell me when and where.”
2
TYLER
New York
Iwoke up to my phone ringing and a hand stroking my dick. I was awake real fast after that. It was my sister’s ringtone, and she would never call at five in the morning unless it was an emergency. I shoved the girl’s hand off my dick—I’d stupidly neglected to call her an Uber last night—and swung my legs over the side of the bed as I reached for the phone.
“Yeah?” I grunted in greeting, knowing—goddamnknowing—but trying to tell myself that eerie fucking twin-vibe thing wasn’t happening. There’d been another call like this, at a similar time in the morning, and Skylar and I had never been the same. That call had let us know our parents had died in a car accident.
