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“Need a favor,” I told him gruffly.
Grey raised his brows and flicked his gaze toward the kitchen impatiently.
My eyes narrowed. “You owe me, brother. Lorelei’s mom practically blew out my eardrums, and I didn’t strangle her for the shit she spewed.”
He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest but nodded for me to go on.
“I need you to find someone.”
He studied me for a second, then a slow grin spread across his face. “Found your old lady, huh? She go running from your ugly mug?”
I scowled, irritated at his amusement. Mostly because I knew payback was a bitch and I’d earned it.
“She was in a hurry because her brother was graduating. I only got her first name and a description. Know the car but didn’t get a license plate number.”
Grey rolled his eyes. “Helpful.” Then he shrugged. “I’ve had less to go on. I can tap the cameras to find a trail. Maybe if I can figure out who her brother is, it will lead to her. Text me the details, and I’ll start working on finding her tomorrow.”
My frown deepened, but he matched the expression just as fiercely. “I’m gonna celebrate with my woman tonight,” he told me in a steely voice. “I’ll get on it first thing tomorrow.”
I swallowed the urge to shove him up against the wall and demand that he start right that minute. It wasn’t Grey who had me checking my impulses, though. Lorelei had worked damn hard, and she deserved an uninterrupted celebration with her man.
“Thanks,” I gritted out.
Grey smacked my shoulder. “I get it, brother. I’ll find her.” With a lift of his chin in farewell, he went to find his wife.
Mentally grumbling, I wandered back into the lounge area and over to the bar. Phantom sat on one of the stools, nursing a beer and staring at his phone with his lips curled down. This wasn’t surprising since Phantom’s natural state was frowning “What’s got you grinning so big?” I joked as I rounded the bar top and walked behind it, intent on making myself a drink.
Phantom looked up, and other than the downward curve of his mouth, his expression gave away nothing. He was the hardest person to read that I’d ever met. However, it didn’t come as a shock since he’d spent fifteen years with the Company.
“Fight tomorrow,” he offered succinctly. He was also a boxer, fighting in an MC underground ring, and he rarely lost.
“What’s the purse?” I queried as I grabbed a glass tumbler and a top-shelf bottle of whiskey.
Phantom shrugged as he set down his phone and took a swig of his brown glass bottle. He didn’t fight for the money or because he was damaged and used it as some kind of therapy. He boxed because he enjoyed it. I suspected that his lack of desperation was why he won nearly every fight. He was steady, methodical, strong, and just bloodthirsty enough to be lethal.
“I didn’t look. We’ve had so much shit going on lately. Haven’t been in a fight for a few months. I’m feeling rusty.”
A chuckle escaped my chest as I poured the smoky liquid into my glass. Phantom’s mouth twitched—the closest he got to a smile. He stayed in perfect condition whether he was fighting or not. I also worked out regularly and kept myself in excellent shape, but I still struggled to keep up with his insane workouts.
“What had your panties in a twist this morning?” he asked, nodding his thanks when I took his empty bottle and handed him a fresh, icy one.
I scowled at him and tossed back half of my drink, enjoying the burn because it helped to stem my growing need for Layla. My glass clinked as I set it back on the gleaming wood surface. My instinct was to keep everything to myself. I didn’t want to share Layla, even if it was a simple conversation with one of my brothers. However, Phantom was my best friend and would help in any way I asked. Same went for me, so I was honest with him. “Found my girl, but she ran off before I could get more than her name. Looked for her in the crowd, but no luck.”
Phantom raised an eyebrow but didn’t make a dig at me. “Grey’ll find her.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, taking another swallow of my whiskey.
My friend’s lips twitched again. Ah, here it comes.
“Weren’t you giving Patriot shit the other day for being pussy-whipped?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. It had been a joke, but the truth was that I never expected to be on the receiving end of this habit—or whatever they want to call it—of falling instantly for the love of my life.
I was going to eat a fuck ton of crow over this.
“You wait,” I grumbled before finishing the liquid in my tumbler and rinsing it out in the small sink.
