Breathe by Sloan Parker Page A

door opened, and a huge German shepherd lunged at him.
    “Duke!” A man grabbed the dog"s collar and yanked him into the house. “Sorry.
    Duke, stay back.” He released the dog, who went barreling into the house with a
    slight shove from his owner"s hip. The man was in his thirties and stood a touch
    shorter than Jay. “Can I help you?”
    “I"m looking for Lincoln McCaw.” Why did that sound so odd? Right. No hint of
    the hatred or disgust usually surrounding that particular name.
    The man let go of the door and crossed his arms over his chest. The smile
    faded. “He doesn"t live here anymore.”
    “Do you know where I can find him?”
    He searched Jay"s face. “How do you know Lincoln?”
    “We used to race in the series together.” The lie slipped out easily. Did that
    bother him? Jay had always hated lies. They were the coward"s way out. So why
    was he spreading so many lately? Did it matter? All he needed was an address.
    “Thought I"d look him up. See how he"s doing.”
    “Why don"t you come in.”
    The other man held the door open, and Jay entered the house. Had Lincoln
    McCaw come here that night? Had he walked through the front door and gone
    upstairs to his warm bed while her cold body lay in the morgue? Had he gotten any
    sleep?
    “Said the name"s Paul.” The man had a hand out.
    “Jay.” They shook, and he followed Paul into a kitchen.
    “Have a seat.” Paul opened the refrigerator. “Want a beer?”
    “Thanks.” Jay sat at the kitchen table. The room was sleek, the appliances a
    matching silver, the countertops a marble he"d seen in more upscale homes like the
    Shaws". Fancier than the exterior had suggested. And the exterior was the best of
    the block. The only sign of wear in the room was a scratch along the edge of the
    wooden kitchen table. Jay ran his thumb over the imperfection, mentally clinging to
    it as if it were all that grounded him to his own destroyed life—grounded him to the
    anger he hoped to hold on to. He couldn"t forget who Lincoln McCaw was, couldn"t
    let his desire get the better of him.
    Paul disappeared behind the fridge door and rummaged around before he
    returned with two beers. “These are all I"ve got. Don"t drink much anymore.” He sat
    opposite Jay and slid a bottle across the table.
    Jay reached for it, but Paul didn"t let go. His gaze roamed all over Jay. “You
    raced with Lincoln?” he finally asked. “Friends?”

    50
    Sloan Parker

    “Yeah.”
    He let go of the beer and sat back.
    “I take it you know him,” Jay said.
    Paul took a long swallow from his beer, his stare never leaving Jay. The bottle
    clanked onto the table. “I knew him. Quite well.”
    Footsteps thudded outside the kitchen. “Hey, babe. Who was at the door?” A
    blond man stepped into the room wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else. He froze
    when he spotted Jay. “Sorry. Didn"t mean to interrupt.”
    “Sam, this is a friend of Lincoln"s. From his racing.”
    Sam gave a nod to Jay.
    “I"m sorry to just show up like this,” Jay said. “This was the only address I
    found.”
    Sam fixated on Paul, his eyes wide. Was he even listening? What was making
    them uncomfortable? Jay"s visit? Or the mention of Lincoln McCaw? In either case,
    Sam was uneasy, and Paul knew it.
    Jay rambled on. He had his own secrets to keep. “I wasn"t sure if he"d moved or
    was still around. How long have you lived here?” he asked Sam.
    “I don"t. It"s Paul"s place. You"ve lived here what? Five years?”
    Paul nodded.
    The pieces were falling into place. “You lived with McCaw?”
    “Yeah.” Paul sized Jay up again as he drank more of the beer. “We were
    together. You got a problem with that?”
    Jay didn"t have to lie on that one, even if he was lying his ass off about
    everything else to these two.
    Sam spoke before Jay could. “I"ll let you two talk.” He hesitated a moment,
    staring at Paul until he left the room.
    Jay offered an answer. He couldn"t afford to offend. “I don"t have a