Free Kick Start: Dangerous Ground 5 by Josh Lanyon Page A

it looked like his brother was going to spend his entire visit hiding out watching TV and sleeping.
    “So…about five minutes?” Will said.
    “I’m ready now,” Grant said. “I’ll meet you outside.”
    Will nodded and continued down the hall to his bedroom. Taylor was tucking a black flannel shirt into his jeans. He glanced up at Will’s entrance.
    “Everything okay?”
    “Of course,” Will replied.
    Taylor eyed him a moment longer, and then finished dressing.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Taylor, not always the most sociable creature on God’s green earth, made an effort on the twenty-minute trip to Mist Bend. The three of them were wedged in the front of Grant’s Toyota pickup, with Will acting as a buffer in the middle. Taylor’s lean thigh pressed against Will’s, his hard shoulder pushed into Will’s.
    “Did you play football too, Grant?” Taylor asked.
    “Yep.” Grant replied curtly.
    “He was All Stars in high school,” Will said.
    “Impressive,” Taylor said.
    “Big deal. You were voted Most Valuable Player how many years?”
    “Yeah, but —” Will’s words were cut off as Grant turned the CD player on full blast.
    Gotta keep your head up and move along move along
    Gotta keep your head calm and carry on carry on
     
    Will reached over and turned the volume down to the non-head-exploding range.
    Grant scowled, gaze still locked on the winding road.
    “Lifehouse, right?” Will identified. A band and a song he was very familiar with after the long drive to Oregon. “Taylor likes them too.”
    Grant reached over and punched the button for a new CD. “Sorry. I’m actually kind of tired of them.”
    There was a short silence while the CD player noisily shuffled through its selections.
    The Fray came on. Another of Taylor’s favorites. Will opened his mouth, but he felt Taylor’s elbow dig into his ribs.
    Yeah, maybe not.
    Taylor said, “What did you think of Cousin Dennis, Grant? Did you have any time to form an opinion?”
    Grant shrugged. “He seemed okay. I didn’t pay a lot of attention to him.”
    Will said, “Do you know what his story was? Did Pop say?”
    Grant shook his head. “Something to do with getting on the wrong side of the owner of a private club in South Florida.”
    Will could practically hear the calculator whirring between Taylor’s ears, but it didn’t take a genius to work this out. South Florida had been a mob stomping ground since the days of Al Capone and Meyer Lansky. So it was pretty much what Will had figured. Cousin Dennis had got on the bad side of some good fellas.
     
     
    Mist Bend looked just like Will remembered. Old houses and small family businesses. The area had been first settled in 1874. It had started out as a farming community, but its main industry these days was logging. There was little to convince the next generation to stay put and invest, and nothing to attract tourists. In Will’s opinion, it was the perfect place to retire one day. Except now of course, his retirement plans would be contingent on what Taylor wanted.
    He gave Taylor a sideways look. Meeting it, Taylor raised his eyebrows. And Will shook his head, smiling faintly.
    Grant dropped them off in front of the police station on Bridge Street. It was a small, square brick building with bullet-proof windows, cement flower planters, and a flag pole positioned in the single square of lawn.
    Taylor climbed out of the truck, then Will. He leaned into the cab. “I’m just going to say hi to Jack Hardy and grab my keys. Why don’t you join us for a beer?”
    “Thanks. I’ve got to get back,” Grant said, looking straight ahead.
    “To do what? Watch wrestling? Come on, Grant. You can spare time for one beer.”
    Grant faced him, his expression tight. “No, I can’t, William.”
    “Suit yourself.” Will slammed the cab door shut a lot harder than he had to.
    Grant gunned the motor and roared away down the wide, mostly empty street. Will stared after him.
    “Okay, I admit it,”