Razed

by Shiloh Walker

They reached the first place and even though Zane could see why Abby liked it even from the outside, he knew it wouldn’t work.

  Climbing out of the car, he met Zach’s gaze.

  It was a modern, sprawling building done in desert tones of beige and sand, with a pretty garden that surrounded the perimeter, ornate windows and doors. Everything flowed and fit. And it also screamed female.

  Zane ran his tongue along his teeth.

  “It looks like Southwestern Barbie has some property available for lease,” he said.

  “Yeah. She’d be your landlord.”

  In that very moment, the door opened.

  Zane closed his eyes at the squeal of delight that came from the door.

  “Zach!”

  Oh, yeah, he thought as a long, stacked blonde came rushing down the steps. Big round breasts pressed against a fitted, designer T-shirt and jeans gloved lush hips and long legs. Her feet were clad in shiny silver sandals, teal nail polish on her toes.

  She flung her arms around Zach.

  “Hi, Leslie.” Zach turned his head and grimaced at Zane. “Abby didn’t tell me you were the other tenant here.”

  “Didn’t she?” The woman pulled back and smacked a loud, delighted kiss on Zach’s mouth. “Silly her! I’m part owner, too!”

  Zane smiled at her blandly as she looked at him.

  Zach cleared his throat. “Zane, this is Leslie. Abby met her through the wedding circuit when Leslie used to plan weddings.”

  “Oh, that was ages ago. I’m a massage therapist now.” She smiled at him and held out a hand. And her eyes slid over him so thoroughly, he had the feeling she could have gone out and bought him a set of clothes . . . and underwear, from that look alone. “So. Are you the one who needs to rent some space?”

  No. No. Absolutely not. The words leaped to Zane’s lips, but he managed to give the woman a polite smile. “Right now, I’m just looking at my options.”

  And this wasn’t one of them.

  * * *

  “She did that to be mean,” Zane muttered as they pulled away thirty minutes later.

  His head was still spinning from the incense and the scent of candles that had pervaded the air.

  “She probably did it to get back at us for something. What, we may never know.” Zach sighed, glanced in the window.

  Leslie with the big breasts and sweet smile and unexpectedly gentle humor wasn’t anywhere in sight. She’d taken Zane’s honest statement—I need space for a photography studio and I don’t think this will work—with good grace. When she’d pushed for why, he went with a diplomatic response, and not the Southwestern Barbie one he’d given Zach.

  A lot of people have issues with scents, and the incenses, the candles here—I’m worried it would bother them. I have to keep this in mind.

  She’d nodded, completely okay with that.

  Then she wished them luck.

  They’d left her massage parlor behind with a quiet sigh of relief, and she’d offered both of them a free session.

  Zach, of course, was welcome to bring Abby for a couple’s session.

  “Couples massages,” Zane said, pondering the idea as they drove to the other location. “Is that a romantic thing?”

  “Abby thinks so. We did one in Alaska.” Zach shrugged, shot him a grin. “I was just laying there thinking about how much I hated having a guy put his hands on Abby while she was naked. He was gay, but I still didn’t like it. She should have had the woman.”

  “Abby might have requested to have him.” Zane was never one to miss the chance to needle his brother. “You and Seb have a big following, ya know. She probably knew he was gay and didn’t want him thinking anything while he had his hands on you.”

  Zach opened his mouth. Shut it. His hand started drumming on the console between them.

  When he didn’t say anything after a minute, Zane pushed him. “What, no comment?”

  “Go fuck yourself, man.” Zach just sent him a look, rolling his eyes. Then he nodded at the building in front of them. “We’re here. Abby knows the current owner. She said he’s willing to let you in, if you want. Might be able to swing it today, if you have time. Not sure how long it would take.”

  Zane looked away from his brother, a comment on his tongue.

  But it died as he took in the building in front of them.

  Whoa.

  Zach shoved the car into park and Zane was out of the car a split second later, almost forgetting his bag. He swapped out his glasses as they neared the building and he lingered at the windows, staring inside as Zach put in a call to Abby.

  “I figured that was a yes,” Zach said as Zane moved to the other window.

  “What’s a yes?” he asked, distracted. The floor space looked perfect, he thought.

  “You want to look inside.”

  He stopped, looked at his brother and then back at the building. Then he grinned. “Yeah. I wanna look inside.” He went back to staring in through the glass while Zane went back to talking.

  “Well, you’re in luck,” Zach said a minute later. “He was having lunch with Abby and a couple of her friends. He’s on his way over.”

  Zane looked over at his brother.

  Zach shrugged. “He’s a wedding photographer. They all spend a lot of time together around here. He’s moving out of state soon, but they’re pretty good friends.”

  A few minutes later, Zane was inside, pacing the floor while Zach, Abby, and the owner—a slim, short Asian-American chatted near the front.

  Gleaming hardwood floors.

  Lots of windows.

  An angled slope of a ceiling that caught Zane’s eye the minute they came inside.

  This was perfect.

  He didn’t even have to look at anything else.

  Yeah, he’d be in bride-to-be central with Abby’s catering place a few doors down and the wedding dress boutique across the way, but that wasn’t a problem. He already figured he’d be doing some of that for a while anyway, so what better place to be?

  He just wouldn’t make bridal photography his sole focus when he did his advertising—or as he set up things here once he started designing everything inside.

  Here.

  The idea settled inside him, anticipation curling through him.

  Yes.

  Here.

  It really was perfect.

  Twined with that anticipation was a bit of nerves though and he blew out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. He really was doing this.

  “Wishing you hadn’t quit your job?”

  At the sound of Zach’s voice, he glanced over at his brother.

  “I quit because I was ready to do it,” he said, shrugging.

  “Safety net’s gone, though.” Zach hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Now it’s all up to you. You gotta push now, make it work.”

  Zane studied his brother with narrowed eyes. Zach didn’t really look much different from the pretty-boy actor he’d been years ago. Well, except for the longer hair, the tattoos that climbed up his arms, and his face was a little leaner, a little harder.

  Sometimes, though, he was still every bit as annoying—or worse.

  “Wow. I’m gonna have to work?” Zane drawled. “Shit. Why didn’t anybody tell me that? Here I was thinking spending anywhere from eight to ten hours a night on my feet was easy. Not to mention the grabby hands some of those pretty ladies get, especially after a few tequila shots.”

  “Z, wait . . .”

  The apology was already there in Zach’s voice. Shaking his head, he looked back at Zach. “Man, I know how to work. I know how to work for what I want. I just never wanted it enough until lately.” He paused, the rest of it trembling there, but finally, he just said it. “Not all of us were as lucky as you, Zach.”

  Zach’s jaw went tight. “Lucky?”

  “Yeah. Lucky . . . and I’m not talking about Abby, although, son, you hit the jackpot there and fuck the fact that it took a while to happen.” Zane walked over to the exposed brick wall. Off ne
ar the front, he could hear Abby and the owner talking—Conan. While they continued to chat, Zane lifted a hand and pressed it to the brick, imagined seeing some of his prints hanging there, framed.

  “You’re lucky,” he said after a moment. “You always had a picture in your head. Once the show stopped, you had a goal. Everything you wanted was always right in front of you, crystal-clear . . . right in focus. Me? Every time I tried to zoom in, it just got harder and harder to see it. It took this long to actually make it clear in my head. But just because it took a while doesn’t mean I don’t know how to make it work, pretty boy.”

  “Is it clear now?”

  Turning, he met Zach’s eyes. “It’s more clear now than it’s ever been. Why else would I be here?”

  * * *

  Not all of us were as lucky as you.

  It was something of a rub to realize that guilt was still there. Zach had thought he’d gotten over it a good ten years ago, at least. More. Even fifteen years ago. He’d left Hollywood behind. There was no reason he couldn’t leave behind that guilt, too.

  But it wasn’t as easy as all that.

  They thought he hadn’t noticed, but he had.

  More than once, some asshole reporter would shove a microphone under the nose of one of his brothers with those obnoxious questions . . . What’s it like living in the shadow of such a famous brother? What’s it like knowing that your brother’s talent is what made it possible for your family to have such a good life?

  Yeah, those reporters could screw themselves sideways, a dozen times over. His brothers had either ignored the questions or laughed them off, because they were all close, they all loved each other.

  Oddly enough, it was Zach who hadn’t been able to brush them off.

  It was Zach who felt guilty when somebody would make a jab at one of his brothers. Every last one of them was talented. Trey with his books, Seb and the way his star was just taking off—Zach’s was all but gone and he was fine with that. Travis had turned out a little more serious than Zach would have expected, but he was a good man, worked hard. And Zane . . . everybody’s protector, the one who took care of all of them. He thought nobody saw it, but they all did. And he stood in the shadows with his camera, capturing secrets some people didn’t even realize they had.

  They didn’t live in anybody’s shadow.

  And here Zach was, tooling away his life in a tattoo parlor. He was damn happy with the way his life was going. He had peace now, privacy, the ability to live his life without worrying how it would affect others. He wouldn’t give it up for nothing.

  It was what he’d wanted for a long time, and he was doing just what he’d wanted.

  Yeah, he was lucky.

  He was also an idiot—

  “If you don’t tell me what’s bothering you, I might not share this with you.”

  Looking up, he watched as Abby crossed the floor.

  She had a plate in her hand and he had to smile as she settled on his lap, one knee on either side of his hips. She had a giant brownie and the smell of it had his stomach growling.

  “Maybe I’ll just take it,” he teased, trying to brush aside the brooding thoughts.

  She laid the plate on the couch and cupped his face. “Tell me you didn’t fight with Zane again. And don’t try to brush this off. Don’t lie and say nothing’s wrong. I know you too well.”

  If anybody could say that, it was her. But for the longest time, he didn’t say anything. “Have I had it easy, Abby?”

  She frowned, sliding her arms around his shoulders as she studied him. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He slumped deeper into the couch, studying her from under his lids. “Have I had it easy? I mean, the two of us both know that Hollywood isn’t exactly the dream gig plenty of people make it out to be, but it wasn’t like my parents went crazy with it. They kept my life pretty normal. They were—are good parents. I have some great brothers, didn’t have to fight my way through school, and I knew what I wanted almost from the beginning.” He stroked his thumb across her lower lip. “The hardest fight I’ve ever had was for you.”

  She arched a brow. “Are you implying something there?”

  “Hell, no.” He tugged her closer and caught her mouth, a punch of lust crushing through him as she opened for him. A soft hmmm of pleasure rose in her throat and he swallowed it down. Slowly, he broke the kiss and cupped her cheek, looking into the brown eyes that knew him so well. “You were worth every day, every week, every year I waited. I’d go to hell and back for you if that’s what it took. It’s just that . . .”

  “Is this about Zane?”

  Sighing, he closed his eyes. “I told him he didn’t have a safety net anymore. He’d up and quit his job and he’d have to start working hard.” He looked back at her. “Then he told me that not everybody was as lucky as I was.”

  For a moment, Abby didn’t say anything.

  Then, she straightened up, laying one hand against his cheek.

  “Zane’s not afraid of working hard,” Abby said, her voice soft. “He’s afraid of not being good enough. He had to get rid of that safety net. Otherwise he won’t ever see just how amazing he is.”

  Zach covered her hand with his. “I know he’s amazing. I’ve been telling him to quit bartending for years, but . . .”

  “Now he’s done it. Why aren’t you happy?”

  “I am,” he said. Then he closed his eyes, realization hitting him. “I . . . I just don’t know what’s going to happen if it turns out he can’t make it. He’s walking away from everything. Selling his house. Giving up a job. Trying to make a living on something he’s only played at. What if it doesn’t work? Then what does he do?”

  “He tries harder.” Abby hugged him. “Zach, baby. It’s sweet that you’re worrying about your big brother like this, but Zane has a game plan. He’s thought things through and he’s got a sound business model. He’ll be okay.”

  “A sound business model.” The words had made him shudder the first time Abby had put them on the table in front of him. “Does he even realize how hard running a business is?”

  Abby pressed a kiss to his ear, chuckling. Then she settled down on the couch next to them and reached for the plate—and the giant brownie. “Zach, I was the one who helped you figure out a business model, remember? Zane is ten steps ahead of where you were after you’d been in business on your own for six months. He can handle this.” She cut off a bite with the fork and held it out to him. “You seem to forget who you’re talking about, slick. This is Zane. He handles everything, remember?”

  “Yeah.” Despite himself, he chuckled. “He does.”

  Then he sighed, slid a hand up her knee. “I guess that’s what’s bugging me. Maybe I have had it easy . . . and he fights, pushes . . . handles it. He ought to have more than just . . . handling it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Zane had the Realtor’s number in his pocket.

  He had a figure in his brain.

  He had dinner to cook.

  Or, well, he had steaks to marinate and a salad to deal with, because the rest he wasn’t doing until Keelie was over here.

  Keelie . . .

  His brain was full and all it took to make those thoughts die was that one thought of her.

  He’d be picking her up in a few hours and just thinking about that made his skin go tight, his cock start to ache, and his heart start to thud.

  Since he couldn’t get through what he needed to do if he was mentally jacking off, he pushed those thoughts out of his head as he parked the rental car.

  Dinner.

  He’d deal with dinner. Putting up the groceries he’d grabbed.

  Mundane stuff.

  He even managed to make it all the way to the top floor by thinking about that mundane stuff. Then one of the bags he was juggling started to slide out of his grip. Swearing, he tried to scramble everything together before the elevator door opened, and he’d almost managed it, too.

  The booted foot stopped the door from
closing. “Z, you know, Mom said you’d outgrow that clumsy thing,” a wry voice said.

  Zane grimaced and shot a look up.

  The sight of the man in front of him would normally make him smile.

  Normally.

  But he wasn’t feeling social enough to deal with another brother. Especially not Travis. The son of a bitch saw too much.

  If it had been more than five years ago, just about everybody else on the planet would have had an impossible time figuring out which twin they were looking at.

  Zane hadn’t had that problem, not that he’d let on.

  The twins were identical, right down to the mole each of them had just a little below and to the side of their right eye. Side by side, you could tell it was in a slightly different spot—and Denise Barnes alone knew which was which by the position of that little discoloration.

  But then Trey’s wife had died and that had caused a change in him.

  Zane had always been able to tell, because Travis looked at things in a weird sort of way. Zane couldn’t define it really. He just noticed it because while he looked at people and places and things the same way he’d look at them if he was going to photograph them, Travis looked at them like he was trying to figure them out.

  Life was one unending puzzle for Travis Barnes, although he hid that facet of his personality behind the sly humor that had matched his twin’s.

  Eying his younger brother, Zane managed to get the bags back into position as Travis scooped up the few items he’d dropped.

  “Trav. Long time no see,” he said, somehow making it to his feet, the bags precariously balanced in his arms.

  “Yeah. All of three months. You got to kiss the bride and I got shafted there because my nephew insisted I take him to the bathroom.” Travis lifted a brow as he studied the bags. “You have your hands full.”

  “As always, your powers of deduction astound me, kid. You must make a killing in the accounting field—that very fascinating field.”

  Travis snorted out a laugh and reached out, grabbing one of the bags. “Hey, it’s more fun than you think. And some women think it’s a hella sexy. One even asked if I could fingerprint her.”

  Zane stared at Travis. “Fingerprint her.”