He clicked on the file, opened the first document, then the next. The more he read, the more it felt like the floor had been pulled out from under him. Reading the facts was a gut-wrenching reminder of the worst time in his family’s lives.
His dad had been gunned down in a convenience store parking lot. There were no surveillance cameras, no eyewitnesses. The killer had taken the shell casings. His dad had bled out before a passerby had found him and called for an ambulance. Police said it was a botched robbery or carjacking attempt, then went hunting for the killer, but the trail went cold in days.
“No freakin’ way,” Rebel blurted after reading the second report.
What hedidn’tknow was that his dad had been working an undercover case. Arrests had been made of everyone in the crime ring, except the kingpin.
He went to call his mom, but it was after midnight.
That’s when he saw the string of texts, along with two missed calls. He was supposed to meet everyone at Jericho Road for dinner and line dancing.
“Where are you, brother?” Stryker had texted.
Cooper followed up with, “Stop working and come hang with us.”
Not long after, a text from Jericho. “You better be getting laid.”
Rebel chuffed out a laugh.
“The women here all want to meet you,” Hawk texted.
“I’m swinging by if you don’t check in, brother,” texted Prescott.
Rebel had missed a call from Jericho and another from Prescott.
He flipped back to the group text thread and typed, “Working.”
The second he set down his phone, it rang. It was Hawk.
“Hey,” Rebel answered.
“I got him,” Hawk said to the guys. “Do we need to drag your sorry ass out for some fun?”
“I lost track of time,” Rebel said.
“I’ll swing by and pick you up,” Hawk insisted.
“I’m gonna pass.”
“Hold on.” A few seconds later, Hawk said, “I can hear you now. What’s going on?”
“I got my dad’s cold case.”
“Nice. How many people did you piss off to get it?”
“I’ll tell you when I see you. Who’s there?”
“Everyone but you,” Hawk answered. “Take a break.”
“I’m good. I’ll talk to ya.” Rebel ended the call, walked into his kitchen.
He’d been sitting for hours, too engrossed to stop reading. After chugging down a glass of water, he opened the balcony slider, and stepped outside.
The blast of frigid air swirled around him, and he inhaled a frosty breath. Now, he understood why his mom had encouraged him to follow his dream of becoming a hotelier instead of working at The Bureau. Back then, only his mom knew where Rebel’s dad hadreallyworked.
When his dad had been murdered, something in Rebel had died, and something else had been born from that family tragedy. A thirst for vengeance.
Now, all these years later, there was the smallest chance he might actually get it.
