That Summer Night (Callaways #6) by Barbara Freethy

when it came to his family, and most of all for not finishing what he'd started with Shayla. Not that he'd had a choice. As soon as her roommate walked in on them, it was over. Shayla had immediately lost the delicious lazy blur of sleep and her brain had gone into overdrive, coming up with a million reasons why they should not have sex.
    He couldn't deny that all those reasons weren't valid, but that didn't make them easier to take. He should be grateful she'd stopped things, but gratitude was not the emotion he was feeling. Maybe that would come later when he had a chance to regroup and realize he'd probably had a narrow escape from a hookup that would have been filled with all kinds of emotional consequences that he did not want.
    Once he got home, he took a long shower, dressed and poured himself a bowl of cereal, adding in some bananas and blueberries. Then he sat down in front of his computer. While he ate, he ran a search on his brother's name as well as Colombia and drug trials. A list of articles came up, and he skimmed through them. He wasn't as interested in the medical aspects of the trial as he was in the raid on the clinic.
    As Shayla had said, there were several news reports on the incident, but none of them were particularly detailed or enlightening. Colombia was a violent country with numerous drug cartels fighting for power, and raids on medical clinics were not uncommon, despite the fact that many of the people in the remote villages were desperate for some kind of health care.
    Despite what he read, his gut told him that the assault on Robert's clinic was not just a random grab for drugs and turf, because if that were the case, why would Robert be in hiding? Why would he tell Shayla that he was in danger? Why would he want a notebook of illustrations?
    Reid glanced at the pad he'd tossed onto the couch, knowing that there had to be a clue in there that he was missing. But rather than spend the rest of the day on that, he was going to take a more proactive approach.
    Turning off his computer, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
    As he drove back across the Golden Gate Bridge, he realized that today was the first day in months where he actually had something he needed to do, something that didn't involve seeing a doctor or struggling through a painful rehab session. Today, his focus wasn't on himself, and it felt good to get out of his own head.
    Kelton Security was located in a three story brick building in a newly renovated area south of Market Street in San Francisco near the Embarcadero and the baseball stadium. There was no sign on the door; no indication of what kind of business took place behind the door.
    Reid pushed the doorbell, gave his name, and a moment later was buzzed into the lobby. The interior was much more welcoming than the outside with hardwood floors, soft lighting, paintings on the wall and a narrow desk at which sat a young woman in her early twenties. She gave him a smile and told him that Mr. Kelton would be down to get him in a moment.
    The idea that Matt was Mr. Kelton to this young woman made Reid feel old. It also reminded him how much Mr. Kelton had probably changed since he was Lieutenant Kelton.
    Matt had left the service four years ago, and he'd definitely made a life for himself outside of the Army. That life appeared to be fairly successful, if not a little pretentious Reid thought as he stared at a painting that was probably very expensive and incredibly meaningful. All he saw was smeared lines and colors that reminded him of a chaotic mess, which in a strange way resonated within him. His life felt a little like that red, blue and orange blob of dashing paint strokes and blurry lines. The longer he looked at the picture the more he felt like he was looking inside his head, which was a disturbing thought.
    He'd always considered himself to be clear-minded, focused, determined…not really so different from his brother in some ways. But that had been before his leg