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“You do that shit every day while the rest of us work real jobs.”
“If you’re trying to start a fight, you’re on the right track.”
Jack just smiled. Joe sighed and went to the coffee machine.
“What do we say to him?” Luke asked.
“We’re good with kids and most people. We’ll sort it out,” Joe said.
“He found his mother shot dead on the floor this morning. He’ll be traumatized,” Luke said.
“I’ve had Mickey investigate this Bandits MC. They’re not someone you’d take home to nana,” Dylan said. “Drugs, armed robbery, to name a few of the pleasant things they do. This Grill is vice president and has a list of crimes to his name and has spent time behind bars.”
“He sounds like an upstanding citizen like our father was,” Jack said.
“Often women who are abused fall into the same patterns with the same men again and again,” Dylan said. “If she was on the run and taking cash jobs to feed herself, she would have been easy prey for someone like this Grill.”
Luke had never thought of his mother as a victim, but maybe it was time he did.
“Mickey will keep digging and let me know if he comes up with anything new.”
Mickey was Dylan’s old colleague from his time in the FBI.
The door opened, and everyone froze. Luke had been looking out the window for Quinn, in case she was walking around. He turned to see the sheriff walk in with his hand on the shoulder of a boy. With him was a woman, she wore dark trousers and a pale blue jacket, and no smile.
“He really is a replica of Luke at that age,” Joe whispered.
A man in a black business suit entered last, carrying a briefcase and wearing an expression that looked like nothing had the power to shock him anymore.
“Nixon, this is Joe, Jack, and Luke Trainer,” the sheriff said.
The Trainer brothers all moved forward to stand before the boy. His eyes were empty, face expressionless. Long black hair hung past his shoulders. He wore a T-shirt only despite the cool weather, and it hung off his lean frame. He was dirty and looked exactly like Luke once had with that air of neglect his aunt had taken one look at and cried.
“Hey, Nixon. I’m Luke,” he said, moving closer. “I’m your brother. And the best of the three, if we’re going for honesty.” His words were a rasp as he forced them through his dry throat.
“Like hell,” Joe added.
“You just need to know I’m Jack and the coolest of all of us.”
Nixon’s head came up and he studied them. He had Joe’s eyes, Luke thought, and Benji’s.
“It’s going to be okay,” Luke said. “You can trust us. Hard to grasp that considering everything that’s happened, but you can.”
He didn’t nod, just dropped his gaze to the floor.
The man in the suit nodded to the door, and Luke guessed it meant the boy should leave so they could talk.
“I’m Dylan, the Trainers’ brother-in-law. Have you eaten lately, Nixon?”
The boy shook his head. Luke threw the man in the suit a look. He got no response.
“There’s a cafe next door. You want to come with me, and we’ll get some crap with lots of sugar to hype us up.”
“I can’t let Nixon go with you alone. Mrs. McMillan will accompany you,” the man in the suit said.
The boy gave the Trainers a last look and then followed Mrs. McMillian, and Dylan silently out the room.
“Record this conversation, and call if you need me,” Dylan said before closing the door behind them.
