Jase hadn’t argued. He’d known his brother was right, but he’d never had the heart to completely write off his father. Not then. Not now. Not when he felt responsible to the father who’d raised him.

Times had been hard. Jase had grown up rough and tumble as his father had followed the work, moving from town to town, ranch to ranch until Edward with his affinity for the bottle and dragging two trouble-making boys had worn out their welcome. Along the way Jase had learned how to build a fence, round up strays, and buck hay, all the while attending three different elementary schools. He’d also discovered how to fight and when to run. Eventually, with a little luck, a lot of work, and an inheritance from his grandmother, he’d been able to make his way through college and law school. Scholarships and a federal loan or two had helped. He’d also found out that sitting in an office twelve hours a day doing legal research wasn’t in his DNA. A year after he’d taken a job with DeWitt, Montgomery and Horowitz, he’d quit and pursued freelance journalism, which had been his minor as an undergrad.

Ridiculously, because of his father’s own struggles Jase felt more than a little guilty about his accomplishments, something Edward had sensed and preyed upon.

As he was now.

“The way I figure it,” his father was saying, “I took care of you and your brother for all those years after your mother took off. And then you two kids inherit a shitload of money from your grandma, enough so you can get yourself through school and Prescott can pay for a goddamned BMW, a fuckin’ engagement ring with a rock the size of Gibraltar, and a damned wedding in the Bahamas. Talk about pissin’ it away!” He snorted in disgust. “You two kids ended up with the house and ranch, too.” Now he sounded bitter. He’d inherited his mother’s twenty-year-old Cadillac and a few thousand dollars, a hand slap from the grave. “So now, son, you and your brother?” Ed said. “You owe me.”

“That’s not the way it works,” Jase said, though he did get it. Their father’s portion of the inheritance had been small, and Ed had blown through it within a year.

“Look, Jase, I’m in a bind here. You know I hate to ask, but I got no choice. My back’s in a corner.”

“Okay, so I send you the money. What happens next month?”

“Hell, next month won’t be a problem. I got a side job that’ll pay out and by then my checks from the government will be comin’ steady-like, so I’ll be good.”