Chasing Sunshine (Love in the Crossfire Book 1)

  CHASING SUNSHINE

  Copyright © 2019 Allana Kephart & Lissa Lynn Thomas writing as A.L. Shea

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written expressed permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Marisa-rose Wesley of Cover Me, Darling

  eBook design by Inkstain Design Studio

  Edited by Alissa Glenn

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows, and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  for Cheryl—

  keep kicking ass!

  I’m alive.

  Miss you lots, love you more.

  E.

  EIGHT WORDS. IT’S the longest note I’ve received from my little brother, Carter, since he disappeared. Usually, I get a postcard from a town at least twelve-hundred miles from the postage stamp, with one word: Alive.

  He must be feeling more confident no one's ever gonna catch him—find him. He’s taking the extra moments to breathe, and to write just enough words to rip me apart.

  What gets me the most is how bad I let him down. I thought I was a good big brother. I thought I backed him up enough that he would know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I would do anything to help him. No matter how corrupt, or dangerous, or stupid. I’d fight, kill, and die to save him from whatever had scared him so bad he felt the need to run away from the only home he’s ever known.

  He’s never signed his name. For all I know, he’s long dead, and these postcards are some warped kink of his killer. Making me eat hope and grief out of their hand every goddamn time I get one. I have to hope he puts E for Emerson, that he’s vague because he’s scared of being seen. Being made.

  The sun is too bright today, the air too crisp. It’s a little cloudy, a little breezy, perfect outdoor Galena weather, and it pisses me off. It’s insulting that the world keeps spinning and that it’s a crime not to go outside, when all I can think about is getting my hands on whatever—whomever—my brother is afraid of and breaking their neck.

  I’ll find them one day. I’ll handle it, in a total abuse of my power as a police detective, and I’ll make them pay for the hell they’ve put my family through.

  Everything’s so fucking normal, except for the silence. After I got the postcard, I texted Charlie McBride, my best friend since forever. He’s just as much a brother to me as Carter. He’s loud and rambunctious, always bright and smiling and full of life. He manages to cheer me up no matter what the circumstances, pull me out of the darkest pits and remind me I need to keep moving and breathing—for Carter’s sake.

  But today, Charlie’s not loud. He’s distracted, and quiet, and hasn’t even noticed I’ve been hogging the basketball in a near standstill for at least five minutes.

  I bring the ball up and chuck it at him, the hollow sound of it hitting his chest snapping us both back to the present. He groans as the air whooshes of his lungs and raises his eyes to mine, his cheeks going ruddy. “Ow,” he barks. “That hurt, damn it.”

  I put my hands on my hips, nodding my chin towards him. “What’s up with you, pumpkin spice?”

  He breaks eye contact at the question, dribbling the ball lazily between his feet. “I’m fine. Not a lot of sleep...and I think I walked in on Claire trying to hack secret government websites last night.” He smirks to himself, a bit of pride dancing behind the brotherly evil in his eyes. “I’m trying to think of how I can use it to my advantage.”

  It’s a bullshit excuse, and he knows I see right through it. Unfortunately, he also knows talking about Claire will throw me completely off his case.

  Claire is his little sister. I’ve known her just as long as Charlie, and she was kinda-sorta friends with Carter in high school before he vanished. They mostly kept to themselves, but if one of them was getting bullied, they had each other’s backs. From what I know, they barely spoke two words to each other, but my mom always joked about them ending up together.

  She is oblivious to the fact I’m in love with Claire. Thankfully, so is Claire. She’s smart, and funny, and actual sunshine. She’s shy, yeah, but if she can avoid getting herself thrown in federal prison for this hacking insanity, she’s gonna do great things one day. She could be the first woman president, hell, the first queen of the world if she stays out of her own way.

  And me? I... I’m a train wreck. I’m famous for destroying everything I touch. I’m selfish and quiet and break every fucking rule thrown at me.

  My own brother doesn’t feel safe with me. And the majority of my squad is determined that I am where I am, career wise, because of my father’s coattails. If I can’t even make these people trust me, how can I trust myself with someone as precious as Claire McBride?

  She deserves better. I won’t ruin her life by being a selfish prick.

  “Would you please tell her to stop trying to get arrested?” I ask, my own terror sounding overly dramatic even to me. “She’s too...”

  Pretty for prison.

  Not the right thing to say to her older brother, so I just change course and say, “She couldn’t hack prison. Pun intended.”

  Thing is, it’s not that Charlie would be angry about me calling his sister pretty. He unabashedly ships us as a couple, and without locking us in the basement until she turns up pregnant, he has done everything in his power to make me admit how I feel about her.

  “Too?” he prompts, waggling his brows at me.

  I glare at him. “What? You gotta drop a deuce?”

  He chuckles, shaking his head. “When are you going to admit you’re in love with my sister, man?” he asks. “I don’t mind. You’re the best dude I know.”

  “God, shut up. She’ll kick my ass into the middle of next week.” As she fucking should. I rub the heels of my palms against my eyes and groan. “I’m gonna give someone at the station fifty bucks to fake arrest her one of these days. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re home an
d prepared with the camcorder.”

  “That would be amazing,” he laughs. “She’s under the impression she’ll never get caught. It was a TV station. She was bored and wanted them to play nonstop Supernatural.” He sighs and shrugs his shoulders. “It could be drugs.”

  I roll my eyes, and the conversation drops. I expect Charlie to start playing again, to try to divert my attention before I remember he didn’t really answer my question. But instead, he throws the ball back at me. “What about you?” he asks. “You’re not your usual talkative self, either.”

  I tense, looking down at the ball in my hands. He knows about Carter. About every letter, and postcard, and vague message I have tucked under the passenger seat of my car. I’m beginning to sound like a broken record, and I hate it—I’ve got nothing else to talk about but my missing brother.

  “Another postcard,” I say finally, releasing a deep sigh. “Nothing new.”

  Charlie sobers, stepping closer and squeezing my shoulder. “I’m sorry, man,” he says, his voice as serious and morose as ever. His heart broke about the same as mine when Carter ran. “I don’t know what I’d do if Claire pulled something like that.”

  The thought turns my stomach, and I close my eyes against the ache. She’s not mine to worry about, to want, to miss. She’s not mine to love, and if she took off, I’d have no fucking right to have any opinion on it. But fuck, I wouldn’t survive it.

  “Have you thought about hiring a P.I.?” Charlie asks, knowing he went too far to even suggest losing his sister.

  I nod. “Remember JB? I ask. “He’s got somebody lookin’. Trying to track the postcards and shit.”

  There’s a tick in Charlie’s jaw when I mention JB. James Bennally, Jimmy to his friends—and a plethora of nonsensical nicknames to yours truly—is my partner on the force. We’ve moved up and around the stations and precincts together, from traffic to homicide. We’re like an old married couple. Outside of Charlie, he is my best friend, my rock, my safe place. He’s strong, no-nonsense, and brilliant, and I know I would’ve lost my fucking mind—or worse, my job—a long time ago if it weren’t for him.

  Charlie isn’t his biggest fan. The vanity in me says it’s jealousy. He has nothing to worry about, just that McBride family drama telling him I could possibly adore someone more.

  Fool.

  “Well, that’s good,” Charlie says after a minute, though he sounds unimpressed.

  “I just wish he’d let me help him,” I vent, shifting back to Carter for now. “He’s always been a rat bastard but dropping off the grid like this is fucking extreme. He doesn’t need to hide from anything or anyone alone.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty rough,” Charlie sighs. “Dick move.”

  “He’s got to be in trouble, right?” I carry on. I can’t seem to stop now. “I am an excellent sidekick, damn it. I could fix it.”

  Charlie laughs, knocking the ball out of my hands and jogging away from me with it. “You would be an excellent sidekick,” he taunts. After a moment, he huffs, shooting for the hoop. It hits the rim and flies off in the other direction. “Sometimes people can’t find their way out of shit, though. Don’t know how to ask for help.”

  He says it like the words are a one-ton weight on his chest. He goes to follow the ball, but I side-step and block his path. “I don’t believe your problem is lack of sleep, sir.”

  He meets my eyes, and fuck, he looks old. We’re the same age, been best friends since we were in diapers, but right now, he’s got three decades on me. His eyes are haunted, his lips chapped, and his cheeks hollow. He looks like he’s falling apart behind a thin veil, screaming for someone to save him without being strong enough to rip the mask off and outright ask.

  God, how have I missed how horrible he feels?

  “It might not be,” he admits...ish. “Just stuff on my mind. I’m okay, though. I will be...”

  “Charlie,” I bark at him with a frown. “I’ve got your back, no matter what. You know that, right?”

  It’s not the first time I’ve pledged my undying allegiance to him, but I know he doesn’t believe me anymore. “I know you’d want to.”

  I swallow past the hurt, and the urge to snap at him, and say, “That’s a no.”

  “I’ll be okay, Adam,” he says again. “I promise.”

  And I don’t believe him either.

  “Let’s go back to talking about why you’re scared of my little sister,” he urges, suddenly a beacon of light again. He saunters to get the basketball, dribbling it between his knees with his tongue hanging out of his mouth like he thinks he’s a baller. Like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just edge the brink of collapse.

  “This is about to get real weird for you,” I warn him.

  He pauses, raising a brow at me. “Huh?” he asks, sure he heard me wrong.

  I use my height to my advantage, the good four inches and at least fifty pounds I’ve got on him, to snatch him off the ground by his neck. I hug him like a toddler would hug their favorite toy, crushing his face against my chest and choking him out all at once. I raise my voice as loud and as high pitched as I can, and announce to the entire city of Galena, “You are my favowit Charlie Warlie Poo, and I WUV YOU.”

  He is struggling like a cat being baptized, but I hold fast, even as his elbows connect with my ribs. “Let me love you, wittle guy!” I yell.

  “Motherfucker.” He thrashes harder, so I haul him off the ground. He yelps, and quickly starts kicking at my shins to hide the sound of terror I got out of him. “I told you not to call me that!” he snaps again, but he’s laughing as much as I am now.

  “Well,” a new voice chimes in, cold and furious at our antics. “This is surprising, Charlie.”

  Charlie becomes a board in my arms, and I let him go. The mask is gone again, but there is nothing but fear in his eyes now. “Liam.”

  Liam Cavanaugh.

  The Cavanaughs are infamous throughout the entire state of Illinois and the surrounding area. They’re a criminal family, ranging from petty theft to murder. People disappear around them. There is a dark cloud around each of them, and if you’re caught in the shadows, you’ll never see the light again.

  How are they still roaming around freely, unleashing hell on every unsuspecting victim they target?

  You can’t prove a damn thing I just said.

  To the naked eye, they’re nobody. Franklin Cavanaugh, Liam’s father, is like royalty around here—a real estate tycoon known for helping the less fortunate. His wife, Georgia, is a displaced southern belle. I’ve never seen her in anything but a dress, with her hair up in 1950s era curls, and a painted red grin on her face.

  They have—or had, rather—four kids. Liam is the oldest, followed by Daniel, Timothy, and Elise.

  Timothy got married and moved to France. Elise moved away for college, becoming a journalist at Harvard.

  Except, if you follow those stories, you hit a dead end. Both of them dropped off the face of the earth, like they never existed.

  They’re dead, no doubt about it. Liam and Daniel are the only ones left, and Daniel is dead inside which makes him the perfect goon.

  Liam is a pure psychopath—we’ve fought enough for me to know. My dad, JJ Emerson, has a bit of an obsession with taking Cavanaugh and his whole family down. He’s based his whole career off it, and therefore, so have I.

  He knows exactly how to admit he’s behind every bad thing that goes on in this town without directly saying it. It’s a game of cat and mouse we play.

  What I don’t understand is how he and Charlie know each other.

  “I didn’t know you were so close with Detective Emerson,” Liam says to Charlie, his eyes narrowed into slits. This is unusual for him. He rarely shows that he’s frustrated, but he’s piercing Charlie with a glare like he’s been betrayed.

  This isn’t going to end well.

  I step forward, bringing Liam’s cold eyes to me. “D’aw, you remember my name?” I ask in a sing-song voice. Liam raises a brow at me
, and I make a heart with my hands, sighing dreamily. “I didn’t know you cared, Cav.”

  “Oh yes, I remember you.” He’s still tense, but his lip curls up in a small grin. “You’re the one with the crazy, obsessed father and the missing brother.”

  My face turns cherry red at the mention of Carter, but I plaster on a winning smile and shrug like I’m unaffected. “What can I say? Mom’s depressed and Dad’s lonely. You’d be a pretty one in a jail cell.”

  Liam chuckles and shakes his head like I’m the crazy one here. He might actually think that.

  “Adam is my best friend, Liam,” Charlie says suddenly, his voice wavering but firm. He comes after me and takes a small step in front of me, his shoulders squared protectively. “If you want to talk, I can meet you later.”

  I suck in a breath, and clamp the inside of my mouth in my teeth until I taste blood. Liam is watching me for a reaction, trying to gage if I knew they were... What? Friends? Colleagues?

  No. God, no, Charlie would never work with this fucker. He’s too smart for that.

  Sometimes people can’t find their way out of shit, though.

  ...isn’t he?

  I curl my lip at Liam, spitting in his general direction. Charlie flinches like I struck him, but I keep my eyes on Liam, telling him without words: you lay a hand on him, it’s all over.

  “Don’t forget,” Liam says coolly. He waits for Charlie to nod, and then turns on his heel and walks away. “Nice to see you again, Emerson.” Liam chuckles as he goes.

  I don’t bother responding. Instead, I grab Charlie’s shoulder and spin him around the face me. I open my mouth, trying to speak, to scream, something, but I can’t. I can’t think straight enough to even curse at him.

  “I know,” Charlie says, panicking. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  “What the fuck, Charlie?” I hear myself say. Guess I just needed him to talk first. “What’s he got on you?”

  “Adam, listen to me,” Charlie says, grabbing my shoulders and holding my eyes. His voice is desperate, begging me to understand, to pretend I didn’t see anything. “This isn’t new. I can’t talk about it right now... but I will. I’m being careful. Just give me some time, okay?”