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“Because you think nothing is gonna happen?” Destiny grinned. “Why do you think God brought you here?”
Even if He orchestrated this, it didn’t have anything to do with romance.
Not anymore.
SEVEN
“They’re doing what?” Liam set his hands flat on the table and glanced between Blake and Jasper.
“We didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else.” Blake held his attention with the steady gaze of a guy who’d watched four younger sisters grow up and done his level best to keep them from harm while they decided what they wanted from their lives. After their father’s death and their mother’s abandonment, he hadn’t let his half-sisters get lost in the system.
A lot like what Liam had tried—and failed—to do with Veronika and Karina.
Jasper said, “We know the file on your father’s death. There’s nothing to find.” He shrugged, not quite using that silver spoon slickness he could employ but close to it.
Jasper was Ivy League and tuxedo.
Liam was blue jeans, boots, and a shotgun.
Blake was a brand-new Camaro, paid for with cash after saving for ten years.
But their team worked. Even with Dakota absent—though by the sound of it he was doing well after rehab, living in Last Chance County. And with their SWAT lieutenant on a desk.
“Where’d they go?” Liam asked.
Blake said, “They got to-go orders from the kitchen and took off.”
His brother.“Did they say they were gonna ask Conrad about my dad’s death?”
His little brother didn’t deserve to be hassled. It didn’t matter what Peter and “Roxie,” as his teammates called her, had said. It mattered what they’d done before they left.
Stirring up trouble.
She’d gone from leading him on to ignoring him to interfering in his life now. She needed to leave him and his family alone.
Liam strode to the kitchen. He was probably in the clear now that Peter andRoxiehad left. Karina had finished her salad and nixed the idea of dessert. She’d taken off when her phone buzzed a bunch of times.
He’d told her to put his name down as a reference when she applied for jobs. She’d just waved and strolled out like she had all the time in the world. Veronika hadn’t left a life insurance policy. Where was Karina finding the money to get by, to pay her bills?
It would be one of the first questions he asked Morgan Alakov when they got him in an interrogation room the next day. Give the guy a night to sweat and he might think twice about talking in exchange for a deal. Not many in county jail would want a mob-connected Russian in there. Too many other groups wouldn’t take kindly to his presence.
He pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. “Con!”
“By the sauce.” His brother’s voice came from the right.
Liam headed down the line of silver metal counters, past a couple of ovens that smelled like the best pizza he’d ever had. Conrad stirred the red sauce pot at the end of the line by the refrigerator.
“Hey.”
Conrad glanced over, one brow raised. “What happened?”
The fact he could tell that from one word wasn’t something that sat well with Liam. Nor was the fact his eight- and thirteen-year-old nieces smoked him the last time they played dart wars in Conrad’s house, like they were trained officers who knew how to rout out a suspect. The eight-year-old would make a decent SWAT officer someday, but he wasn’t going to tell Conrad that.
“How’s Rory?”
Conrad shrugged. His usual stance over his younger brother. “He’s Rory.”
The guy ran a franchise of Backdraft Bar and Grill up in Alaska. “Let me know.”
