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So staring down at the results from the blood work, I don’t believe it.
Braelynn didn’t drug me. I simply fell asleep, in a strange place, without any protection whatsoever.
It’s as reckless as it is unbelievable.
Knock, knock, knock.
It’s a bit too early to be Braelynn, although perhaps she’s as eager to see me as I am her. Checking the cameras, I’m surprised by my disappointment that she didn’t come in early.
“Come in,” I call out as I click out of the results the doctor sent me, and over to the profile for Travis Marks.
The gray profile photo of a man with a smirk stares back at me. He’s a man who needs to die. What happened is his fault, I’m certain of it. His existence is problematic.
“Boss.” Nate greets me at the same time that Jase says, “We need to talk.”
The two of them beside one another is an intimidating sight. Nate’s scar on his chin adds to his severe and rugged countenance. My brother is taller but only by an inch or two, and Nate’s bulk more than makes up for it.
Marcus sent him to me two years ago as a part of our deal. His men. My rules. … so that he could escape. He didn’t tell me why he had to leave, only that something broken long ago needed to be fixed.
“You’re slipping,” Jase comments, a smirk on his lips as he drags the corner chair closer to my desk and Nate takes a seat.
A crease settles between my eyes. “How so?”
“Your door was unlocked last night. I walked right in and you weren’t here.” Jase appears proud of himself, but my dead stare has him thinking better of it.
“There’s no way in hell I left without locking it.”
My brother narrows his eyes, the severity of my response catching him off guard.
Nate’s cough interrupts the tension.
“That’s … it’s fine. It’s not why we came.”
My shoulders tense and I glance back to the computer, to the black and white photo of a man I wish was here so I could release this pressure building inside of me. Cracking my knuckles, I lean back in the chair and ask, “What’s going on?”
“You all right?” Jase asks as Nate states, “Someone else is with them.”
I glance at my brother, his expression questioning before focusing on Nate.
“Another informant?” Heat tingles at the back of my neck.
“No, someone … someone who also wants information.”
“What do you mean?”
Jase answers this time, “The cops are sending someone else information. Not us and not the feds.” He crosses an ankle over his knee. “Someone is lining their pockets and it isn’t us.”
Nate nods.
Fuck. The list of enemies grows every fucking day.
“We have a meeting with Carter tomorrow to work out the possibilities. Anyone who seems off.”
“We need the footage,” Nate requests.
“I’ve already gone through the tapes of every man who’s been with Scarlet in the past two years.”
“And?”
“She has her preferences but they’re all still cooperative.”
Jase seems to consider what it could mean. Is she meeting with men who she wants information on, or is one of them the man she’s giving the information to?
There are too many questions and not enough answers.
Nodding, I tell them, “I’ll bring the list tomorrow.”
Jase’s hands tap down in unison on the armrests. “All right then.”
Both Nate and he stand, adjusting their ties and buttoning their navy and dark gray suit jackets, respectively. Where Nate couldn’t possibly pass as a gentleman or someone born into wealth, Jase could fool the world with his charming smile. I wasn’t gifted with that perceived glamour. Slipping his hands into his pockets, Jase questions again, more casually although it’s anything but. He can’t hide the concern in his eyes. “Everything else okay?”
“Fine,” I answer.
“Where were you last night?” He shifts uncomfortably.
“Worried about me?” I smirk at him with my joking response.
His downturned expression makes me regret it. “I’m still your big brother.” As he cracks a grin, Nate and I chuckle. “You should come home for dinner Saturday … or Sunday.”
“I’m sure I can make it.”
“Good.” Jase gives an easy smile as he turns to leave and I reciprocate it.
“Hey Nate, stay for a moment.” Jase looks between us and gestures a goodbye before leaving. When the door’s closed, I ask Nate, “What happened to Braelynn’s ex-husband?
“I’m not sure, Boss … What happened to him?”
“I believe he got intoxicated and tripped on the train tracks.”
“That sounds tragic,” he comments. And the dark look we share speaks volumes.
“It is.” I murmur, “Such a senseless way to die.”
“And when did that happen?” He gives me an expectant look.
“I would have liked tonight, but let’s stick with his habits. He often goes out Thursday evenings.”
“Understood.” With his response, I exit out of the photo, and rid myself of the problem once and for all.
“Is that all, Boss?”
“Yes. Thank you, Nate.”
