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Travis glanced at the older guy before focusing back on his phone. “You’re a little old to be aKate+Natefanatic, aren’t you?”
Travis was used to people recognizing him. Some even mistook him for Zach at first, although that was happening less and less. Both Travis and Trey were catching up to their older, very famous brother, but over the past couple of years, Zach, the former child star and tattoo-artist-in-training, had started sporting a fair amount of ink.
The paparazzi had gone crazy over the first few tattoos, but Zach had ignored it all, pretty much as he had ignored just about everything Hollywood-related, save for his co-star, since the last episode of the sitcom aired a few years earlier.
“Yeah.” The stranger smiled, a friendly, affable grin.
Travis didn’t buy what that smile was selling. Not for a minute.
“Guilty, kid. I never watched it much. My sister did. She had pictures of him tacked all over her room. Now Abigale...” He smiled. “She’s something else.”
Snorting, Travis shot a look to the line waiting at the counter. Zach was up there, along with Travis’ twin, Trey. But the line was moving damn slow and they were too far away to hear.
“You better not let Zach hear you talking about her. He’s crazy about her. And ... ” He gave the man another look from head to toe before giving a derisive snort. “She’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”
“I’m not talking about that. She’s a beautiful young woman, of course, but I’m old enough to be her father.” The man frowned, and the look of distaste in his eyes told Travis he meant it. But then he shot another look back at Zach. “They got a thing going, huh?”
Travis put the phone face down. Isabel probably wouldn’t be able to text him any time soon, but he was ever hopeful. They were on the final countdown here. Just a matter of days. That’s all it was.
But first, he had to deal with this jackass.
Leaning against the padded back of the bench, Travis gave the man a hard look. Probably close to forty, he decided. Old. But his eyes were even older. He wanted something, too. Growing up with a famous—and rich—older brother, Travis had learned how to spot the takers and users pretty young.
“What do you want?” he asked bluntly. “You’re not here to talk about Zach or Abby. Are you?”
The guy’s eyes narrowed in speculation, then, after shooting a look over his shoulder toward the front of the restaurant where the other two Barnes brothers waited, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white card. Placing it in front of Travis, he used one finger to push it to the edge of the table. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? I want to talk to you about your girlfriend, kid. She’s...not exactly what you think.”
Anger punched through him, cutting through his surprise that this guy knew about Isabel. “Fuck off.”
“I’m serious. Look, I know all about the thing going on between you two. Adorable, really. But there’s a lot of shit about that girl—and her family—that she hasn’t told you. And it’s ugly, dangerous shit.” He leaned closer. “I’m talking shit that could put that family you love so much in danger. Call me. Or don’t. But if you’re as sharp as I think you are, you’ll do the right thing.”
He turned and walked away, leaving Travis to glare at his back. He almost jumped up and went after him, but stopped himself when he caught sight of his twin waving him down. Trey pointed at the sign and mouthed something Travis didn’t care enough about to parse through so he just nodded and went back to fuming.
Looking at the card, he read the simple font.
Miles Hawkins
The official-looking seal on the card was what really got under his skin ... that, and those three words just under the man’s name.
Federal Bureau of Investigation
“What the fuck?” Scowling, he picked up the card.
“Don’t forget the ketchup, Trey.”
Hearing Zach’s voice, he shoved the card into one of the pockets on his board shorts, zipping it shut just before Zach put down a tray filled with soft drinks—and an amber bottle.
Zach had recently turned twenty-one and was enjoying his legal drinking-age status.
Normally, Travis would have razzed him about it.
But he was too busy thinking about the card the guy had left.
An FBI agent.
What the fuck?
“You going to tell mewhat’s up?”
