“Where’s she at, Z?” he asked again.
“I’ve changed my mind. I think it’s best I sit on this for the time being. Like I said, if it’s vetted, you’ll be the first to know.”
Before Brantley could lose his shit, Z disconnected the call. It took effort not to throw the damn thing through the plate-glass window. Instead, he planted his hands on the counter and focused on breathing.
“If it’s valid, he’ll give us the information,” Reese said, sounding far too reasonable.
Brantley bit back the retort. It wouldn’t do any good to pick a fight with Reese.
“I’m just glad there’s a good chance we’ll end this soon,” Reese added.
“You think we should tell Travis?” Brantley picked up his coffee, forced his shoulders to unknot.
Reese turned around, holding the plate of pancakes. “No. He knows we’re lookin’. Once we have a definite, we’ll loop him in.”
Christ Almighty. Why did he have to be so fucking rational?
“Keep it up and your headache’ll come back.”
Brantley glared at Reese but walked around to the other side of the island. He took another sip, sat on a stool, and shifted his head side to side.
“You’re right. We’ll sit on it until we know for sure.”
Reese placed the pancakes beside the plate of eggs then retrieved the bacon from the oven. Once it was all set out, he handed Brantley an empty plate, took one for himself.
“There’s somethin’ else you should probably know about,” Reese said, his tone hesitant.
Brantley lifted his head. Slowly.
Reese was looking down at the counter, rather than meeting his gaze.
Tension knotted Brantley’s shoulders. He already knew he was not going to like whatever it was.
“Spit it out, Tavoularis.”
“Travis has been in touch with Max Adorite.”
Brantley schooled his expression. “About?”
Reese looked up, cocked his head, and gave him the look that said,Think about it, dummy.
Brantley knew plenty about Maximillian Adorite, infamous for his role as the head of the Southern Boy Mafia. He’d done a significant amount of research on the man and his organization, learning everything he could. Admittedly, his initial interest hadn’t been because of the organized crime family’s business dealings. No, Brantley had been curious about Madison Adorite, the woman Reese had beenalmostengaged to. He’d actually learned very little about the woman but more than he cared to about the family.
“Max has done some favors for Travis in the past,” Reese said.
“I’m sure I don’t want to know what those favors are.”
“Probably not. Nor do I.”
“Bein’ that he’s a mob boss, I’m sure Max Adorite calls in favors, too, does he not?”
“Of course. And I’m sure Travis has paid out a few of his own over the years. But they’re close. Closer than most people probably realize.”
As close as you and Madison were?Brantley didn’t voice the question, but he knew it would ping around in his head for a while after this conversation was over.
“I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that there’s a good chance Juliet Prince’ll never be found.”
Brantley narrowed his eyes on Reese. “Are you tellin’ me she’s dead?”
