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Mister Upton gripped the edge of his desk, his eyes flicking between the three of us before he finally nodded. “Yes. I’ve been handling their property for more than twenty years.”
“Fucking brilliant. Now, if you could get me a list of those properties, that would be great.”
He pulled his shoulders back, and I couldn’t help but be impressed at the old guy finally finding his balls down there somewhere. “I can’t just hand over confidential client files,” he argued, though his voice shook.
I slowly got to my feet, sighing heavily as I braced my hands flat on the large desk and leaned in, forcing him to push back into his chair as he fought to escape the rage building around me. “Look, I know Prophet Andrew and his minions are kinda scary.” My hand shot out, grabbing a fist full of his shirt and dragging him toward me. He fought against my hold, his body stretched out over the desk as I pulled him right in close and lowered my voice. “But they have my sister…my very pregnant sister… locked up in one of those goddamned houses. And there are a lot of things I will do to find her that skate well pastscaryand into the completely deranged.”
“Okay!”
I dropped him instantly, letting him hit the table with a hard thud. “Great choice, Mister Upton.”
He pulled himself together, stepping back, straightening his shirt and clearing his throat. “I’ll need… I’ll need to pull all the files up on my computer. It might take a while.”
“How many properties are there?” Blue asked, he and Match easing back and making themselves comfortable.
Mister Upton reached for his glasses, sliding them onto his face before opening his laptop and squinting at the screen. “Around seventy-four across the state, I think.”
“Dammit,” I cursed, sitting back in the chair as I waited for him to slowly sort through his computer files. I looked over at Blue, shaking my head. “Seventy-four.”
“We’ll find her,” he said simply.
Match nodded in agreement and added, “Even if we have to go to every fucking house on the list.”
Which was exactly what I planned on doing.
Even if I had to have a pizza delivered to any given house and wait to see who answered the door.
Or pay the neighbors to watch who came and went.
Whatever I had to do to find her.
I just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.
MISSY
One Week Later…
“Three glasses of water with ice,” Gem announced, placing her tray down on the bar.
I snorted, continuing the single pour of gin I was making and placing it on the bar in front of the man to my left before finally turning my attention to Gem. “I’m not even joking, and they requested for you to deliver them.”
“Water?” I asked with a frown.
Water and soda were free, Bishop’s way of making sure sober drivers were taken care of.
“All three of them,” she confirmed, nodding to a small table in the far corner where three younger-looking men sat. Their heads were dipped close together as they spoke, their eyes scanning the room every few seconds as if they were uncomfortable or nervous.
Backroad had been open for a week now, and it had not calmed down since opening night.
Bishop had hired a couple more staff to keep things running smoothly when we were finding it hard to keep up and beefed up security with club members, so everyone who came here for a drink or to watch a sports game was absolutely aware of the main rule.
Fuck around and find out.
Bishop was the kind of boss everyone who worked in these kinds of places wanted.
One whose priority is looking after and protecting their staff and whose main concern is not how much money they’re making from the assholes buying drinks.
Mitchell had not been that boss.
