He breathed a sigh of relief when his boots touched the parquet floor in the foyer. The first pink-and-gray fingers of dawn showed through the transom, the light tracing a jagged line across the toe of his boot. “Sneaking out, brother?” Rod’s voice caused the hair on Brooks’s nape to prickle. Brooks turned to find Rod, fully clothed, watching him over the rim of a steaming cup of coffee. Brooks wondered why he had not smelled the aroma. In the back of his mind he could almost hear Clell’s derisive comment about his lack of awareness—how if Rod had been an ‘unfriendly,’ Brooks would be in a world of hurt. Brooks shook his head at the thought and glared at his brother, but Rod only sipped at the hot brew. “You know, Brooks, you used to do this the other way around—sneaking in before dawn, instead of out.” Rod’s voice was spiced with dry amusement. “Shh…” Brooks crept toward his annoying brother, his irritation growing with every step. “Keep quiet, you’ll wake the entire house.”
