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“You owe me!” Bradley called out, the obvious victor in whatever bet they’d placed.
“I don’t owe you. The last time I checked, you were in the arrears and down by fifty.”
“Wanna go double or nothin’?” Bradley grinned. “I’m feeling lucky today.”
“Somethin’ tells me your luck is about to change, Mr. High Roller,” Markie sang in his Southern twang.
Allister dragged his hand down his face. He was always the bearer of bad news. Some of the guys had even started calling him “the undertaker.”
Draegan turned his attention to his brothers Harley and Allister. “Been a long time since the two of you have been spotted in the same place.”
“Tell me about it,” Allister said. Harley and Allister typically worked opposite shifts. “I would’ve already been in bed but a call came in for Bradley.”
Markie rushed Bradley and took his reins. “It’s about your sister. I tried to find out more but you know how Allister is. If bad news is around, he wants to be the one to stamp it as delivered.”
Harley grunted. “Really, Markie?”
“He needs to get laid,” Draegan said, turning to Allister. “What’s up?”
Allister closed the distance between himself and Bradley. “A call came in about Heather.”
“What about her?” Bradley seemingly braced for the worst. “Is she alive?”
“As far as I know.” Allister reached in his shirt pocket and handed over the notes from his earlier conversation. “When’s the last time you spoke to her?”
“Two or three months ago,” Bradley replied, studying the sheet of paper. “What is this?”
Several boards creaked above them and Allister turned his attention to the loft. Standing next to the rail, Curt Caldwell looked like he’d seen a ghost. A huge man with dark features, Curt appeared more intimidating then, and Allister wasn’t easily spooked.
“What do you know about Heather?” Curt’s deep voice sounded more tortured than usual.
“Shit,” Allister grumbled, remembering why Heather’s whereabouts would matter to Curt. They had a past. She’d also dated Justin Dare and had a history with Gabe Reynolds.
“Well?” Curt slung his leg over the railing and climbed down the ladder. “What’s this about?” He peered over Bradley’s shoulder, eyeing the message.
Allister tilted his head at Bradley. “Do you know anything about Heather’s last whereabouts or what she’s been up to lately?”
“Other than the fact that she didn’t show up for our mother’s funeral? Not much.”
“I always told you there may have been a good reason for her absence.” Accusation was strewn through Curt’s voice.
“Damn right there was,” Bradley said. “She was too busy partying. For all I know, she was doped out of her mind.”
“And what if she wasn’t?” Curt snarled. “What if she didn’t even know about it because her big brother couldn’t be bothered enough to call her?”
“I called,” Bradley grated out. “And I left several messages.”
Allister cleared his throat. “Bradley, she may not have known about your mother.”
“Of course she did.”
Allister frowned. “I’m going to say she didn’t.”
Undoubtedly, Bradley noted the seriousness in Allister’s tone. He hurriedly scanned the note and directions.
“What are you driving at, McCall?” Curt clenched his fists.
Anger was good. They’d probably need some of it when they went to find Heather.
