Both things make me shudder. I’ve never liked kids much, and the college students? They remind me of what Rowan told me, about how he didn’t go because of Tucker.
I’m still tempted to murder the SOB. Maybe giving my number to Jalen isn’t a great idea after all.
There’s a door at the back marked Employees Only. I knock, surprised when a muffled voice shouts for me to come in.
When I walk in, I’m met again by Brennan Doyle, crime boss of Belle Argo. When last we met it was at a shady warehouse on the eastern side of town, so he looks out of place sitting in his suit behind a desk. Like an accountant who wound up in the wrong office, if that accountant had a tattoo of a bull on his neck.
He’s wearing a pair of reading glasses and muttering something about “stupid fucking spreadsheets.”
I glance around. “Sorry to interrupt. Jalen here, by any chance?”
“Went to grab me some coffee.” He checks his watch. “He’s been gone about half an hour, so I’m expecting him back any minute.”
“Takes him thirty minutes to get coffee from the shop two doors down?” Maybe it’s a euphemism?
“I prefer this other place downtown. Best mochas you ever had. Anyway.” He pushes his chair back and folds his hands. “What can I do for you?”
I pull the key out of one of my zippered pockets and hand it over. “Thanks for letting us use your place.”
He grins. “No problem. You know you could’ve left it under the mat though, right?”
“Doesn’t sound very secure.”
“Anyone who tries to enter my place without an invitation, they’re going to wind up talking to the barrel of my gun or the bottom of my boot.”
“Got it. Well.” I glance around one more time, even though it’s only the two of us in the room. “Thought I’d also say goodbye to Jalen before I left. Let him know we’re square on the entire issue of who owes whom favors. I’ll just call him, though.”
This is already getting ridiculous. I do need to leave town.
I turn to go, but as if I’ve summoned him, Jalen walks in carrying one of those cardboard coffee Troys with two drinks. He raises his eyebrows at me. “Hey, man.” He plunks a coffee cup on the desk. “Peppermint mocha, soy milk, no whip, heavy on the cowardly bitch. You’re welcome.”
Brennan’s right eyebrow looks like a warning signal. “Go fuck yourself, J.”
Jalen rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his own drink. “He’s fine, by the way.”
Though I try to stay out of other people’s drama, I guess I don’t hide my curiosity. Or maybe I never realized Jalen’s a gossipyold lady in the body of a six-foot-tall Dominican because he turns and gives me a wink.
“Brennan’s got me stalking some kid who used to live next door to one of his escorts.”
Brennan’s fist comes down on his desk. “It’s not goddamn stalking.” More quietly, he adds, “And he’s not a kid.”
The grin Jalen gives me suggests this is a recurring conversation. I’m about to say my goodbyes when my old friend snaps his fingers. “Oh. Fuck. Got a call from the hacker who looked into Rowan’s contract for you.”
My ears perk up. “And?”
“Dude went down a rabbit hole, I guess. Saw something when he was closing out his research that piqued his curiosity, which led to something, which led to something else—”
“Great. Can you just fucking tell me what it is?” I’m trying to take a full breath, forcing my fingers to uncurl.
Jalen shrugs. “Nobody gives a shit about good storytelling these days. Anyway, someone in town was spreading a lot of money around looking for Rowan, and that someone turned out to be his ex.”
My heart squeezes. Every thought I had on the way here about getting a message to Rowan or maybe swinging by his apartment one more time… None of it might matter after all. The guy sounded like a creep, but emotional hooks tend to stay stuck.
That’s what I get for leaving Rowan stunned at his doorstep the way I did.
“He probably wants him back,” I mutter, unable to conceal my disgust. “Rowan said he left the guy without saying goodbye.”
“Maybe. It’s a little weird, though. Turns out his ex is Tucker Henderson, who’s been in the news a lot lately for a potential bid for governor.”
