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He’s set up on the far end of a couch with his laptop balanced on the armrest. As usual, his wire-rimmed glasses reflect the screen while his fingers run circles over those keys. Dressed casually, he crosses an ankle over a knee without bothering to glance up as he’s talking.
“I’m still searching for that. I traced Brinley’s mother from California to Georgia. She purchased a house three years before Brinley was born. As far as I can tell, the house was torn down in the past ten years. All that exists in that spot now is farmland.”
Well, that gets us nowhere.
Next.
Tanner looks as disappointed as me. But there’s no possible way he can be. He’s not the one on a warpath.
Not like me, at least.
He’s still plotting against our fathers to put this entire thing to bed while I have one target in mind who’s been a particular thorn in my side.
Running a hand through his hair, Tanner casts a worried glance my way before asking his next question.
“And Scott? How did he get to Georgia so fast? He had to have taken a plane because nobody drives as fast as Shane.”
He’s not wrong about that. But then again, I was knocked off course for an overnight stay when my fucking tire almost flew off the car.
Another surge of anger rolls through me, and I turn back toward the parking lot.
Tanner can plan and plot all he wants.
I’m not following instructions.
Not about this.
Not when Brinley’s life could be in danger.
All I need is the information from Taylor. It’s too fucking bad he keeps striking out.
“As far as I can tell, he either drove or took a private plane. I’m still running through the itineraries and passenger manifests. If he was flown down here, it wasn’t on the governor’s plane.”
Of fucking course.
Because that would make things too easy.
Taylor’s voice is exhausted. “I need more time.”
Silence and then, “Shane, where’s your head at right now?”
I turn at Tanner’s question to look over the room again.
Every person is staring at me like I’m a bomb ticking down with three seconds left on the timer.
Should we cut the red wire or blue?
There’s no telling.
“On my shoulders, where else would it be?”
Damon snorts, but he’s the only one amused by the comment. Then again, he’s also the only one who understands what it means to feel this kind of rage.
While everyone else is scared shitless of what I’ll do, Damon knows that it’s difficult, but achievable, to contain it for when the time’s right.
Sick of them all watching me like I’m a sideshow, I shrug a shoulder and lie.
“I’m good to go, so everyone can stop worrying. Brinley was just an assignment.”
