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I take it from him.
I read the video caption and gasp.
“What?” Dad, Mom, and Ciara ask in unison.
“Let me watch the video,” I tell them.
Holy shit!
“Can I pass around your phone?” I ask Bryce.
He nods.
Each family member watches the video.
They’re all sporting the same shocked expression as I am.
“Thanks to technology, anyone can capture the most mundane event and post it on the internet,” Bryce says. “Celebrity sightings guarantee your video goes viral.” He reaches for his phone on the dining room table. “This random guy,” he taps his screen, “thought he was in the same coastal city as Alwyn Breyer. The guy he approached was not only rude, but he didn’t have a Scottish accent. #NotAlwynBreyerinCroatia is the smoking gun we needed. That face might not be Alwyn Breyer, but it sure is hell is Brad Hyler’s. I’m willing to bet a lot of money on it.”
Silence engulfs the house.
It’s so quiet, you can hear a pin drop.
Dad asks the question I’m too afraid to ask. “He stole four million plus dollars. Compared to a billion dollars, it’s chump change, but it’s a lot of money. Enough for him to live in Greece, Portugal, Malta, Cyprus, and a slew of other countries on the cheap for the rest of his natural life with that kind money without ever having to take responsibility for his crime. How are we going to get him back into the US?”
“Do you have that kind of power, Bryce?” Mom asks.
“I don’t––”
“What was the point of all of this?” Ciara asks.
“I don’t have that kind of power. I didn’t say it was impossible to drag this son of a bitch’s ass back to the US.” His eyes lift to the ceiling for a beat. “I’ll need a judge who can grant me extradition papers quickly.”
“You know someone in that arena?” Mom asks.
Please say yes. Pretty please.
Deep grooves appear in Bryce’s forehead. “I do.”
Thank you, God.
Dad claps. “Yes!”
A scowl overtakes Bryce’s handsome face.
Why does he look piss?
“The only way to get el pendejo back on American soil is for me to call on the last person I ever expected to be in contact with––someone who was dead to me.”
“Who?” Four voices echo.
Bryce jaw tense, a muscle ticking. “My older brother.”
Chapter 40
Bryce
I didn’t elaborate about my brother. I simply told the Herreras I’d take care of things. That was enough for Sofia’s mom, dad, and her sister. Sofia’s dark brown eyes had a thousand questions.
