So Mosh was reduced to washed-up celebrity status, playing at a shitty casino to pay the bills, and it was entirely my fault. When they couldn’t get at me, the Condition had targeted my family instead. I was the one they’d wanted, but Mosh had paid my price. It made me wish that I could bring Hood back from the dead so that I could kill him over again. Only this time I would make it hurt more.

I got off the elevator at the penthouse suite, still going over what I was going to say. Hey, dude. Sorry knowing me absolutely ruined your totally awesome life. Oh yeah, and now I’ve got to kill Dad. So how you been?

The hotel had probably been very nice when Sinatra was still singing here, but it hadn’t been remodeled since then. The carpets were dingy. The wallpaper was cracked. I’d heard they were talking about knocking it down and putting up a new casino on the valuable real estate. Many of the traditionalists wanted to save this place out of a sense of nostalgia. Those people probably hadn’t been inside recently, because this dump was ready for the wrecking ball. I knocked. Nobody answered the door. He probably wasn’t back yet, so I settled in to wait.

Just what I needed, more time to think.

Ten minutes later the elevator returned, and when the doors slid open, my brother came out with a girl under each arm. The women weren’t exactly dressed for the church choir, were medium attractive, seemed a little tipsy, and Mosh already had lipstick smears all over his neck. Even being a washed-up rock star had its perks.

“Hey.”

Mosh looked up from his distractions and saw me. Surprise registered on his face for just a second before he forced a smile. “Hey, bro.” The greeting was awkward. “What’re you doing here?”

“In town for a convention…I’m staying at the Last Dragon.” I nodded at the party girls. “Bad time?”

His thick eyebrows drew together into an angry V. “It’s all bad times now.” His left hand was resting on one woman’s bare shoulder and his fingers twitched inadvertently. “Ever since…you know…Ladies, this is my big brother Owen. I owe him so much.”

“Your brother?” Even the groupies sensed the sudden tension. “You guys do look kind of alike.”

“He looks more like Mom,” I said. “Sadly, I take after our Dad.”

“I always was the lucky one.”

This had been a bad idea. I looked at the ugly carpet. “You know, I’ll just come back later.”

“Naw, it’s cool,” Mosh said, sounding resigned. “I can’t avoid you forever.”

“We’ve got some more girlfriends downstairs. We can call them and throw a party,” suggested one of the aspiring brain surgeons. “Your brother’s sort of cute.”