“Tell Ever and the crew who the real owner of Crimson is. Tell us who lured Carlos to the kill shot point.”
The room goes quiet, and the air pulses with restrained anger. There is too much testosterone and too many questions left unanswered.
“A server gave me his name. She has it bad for him.”
“His name, motherfucker.”
I blow out a breath. Ty’s hatred won’t go away until Carlos’s killer or killers are brought to justice. “Give it a rest. Please. Carlos wouldn’t want you dishonoring his memory with violence.” Doesn’t Ty realize his hatred is toxic?
If anyone could understand the depths of my love for Carlos, it would be Ty. Carlos protected me and took me in when Ty and Gage couldn’t be there. Starting and running a business without letting it fail required all of Ty’s attention, including time away from watching over me.
Ty ignores my pleas, as he usually does. He grinds his teeth. “His name, Sanchez.”
“Bobby Bliss.”
My world shifts from epidemic worse to apocalyptic worse. “Wha . . . what did you say?”
“Bobby Bliss. He owns Crimson. He led Carlos to the kill shot point.”
The pieces fall together quickly. Bobby slept inside the club’s office because he knew the owner. The club was full, but there was an empty table that no one touched, as though the regulars knew who usually sat there. The server brought Bobby “the usual.”
It wasn’t because Bobby was a regular. Bobby is the owner, and the server is familiar with his preferences. She called him “sir,” a formality and a sign of respect for his title as owner of Crimson nightclub and her boss. The bouncers let him lead me out the back doors, my eyes closed, because he does that all the time.
Joey said Bobby left with a different woman. I was one of them. I ball my hand under the table. That lying jerk. I pick up my cell. “Do you have a picture? Tall, ripped, black hair, and blue-green eyes describe half the men in the club.”
I find “B” in my contacts and block his number. I am done with his smooth-talking ways and how he’ll be the villain in my fairy tales and the bad boy in my fantasies. He is everything he claims to detest in a person.
Bobby is a liar and a manipulator. He took advantage of my loneliness and gave me everything I was craving—a connection, a sounding board for talking about Carlos so that I wouldn’t forget him—because Bobby was a hero in disguise, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, trying to save the damsel in distress from herself. I’m a fool for falling hard for him.
I toss my phone on the table and cross my arms.
The guys look from the phone to me. Gage raises a brow. I give him the peace sign. It’s better than bawling my eyes out and hurling the dish of my half-eaten omelet at the wall.
“Shit.” Ty runs his fingers through his short-cut hair. “Shit, shit, shit.” He drops into his chair, snatches his cell, and scrolls through it with his finger.
We wait for him to share what’s on his mind. When he doesn’t, I utter an exasperated, “What, Ty?”
“He and I played football. Our high schools were rivals.”
I replay Bobby’s and my conversation in my head, the shock of it all rolling over me like a wave, and I am drowning in the truth before my eyes.
Tyler Moretti. The girls were wild for him in school.
What about you? Do you have siblings?
Just my younger sister. I’d like to see her more, but work takes up my time.
“Is he related to Braxton?” I ask. Please, please, please, tell me Bobby is a distant cousin.
“Half-brother. Same father. Different mothers.” Ty shoves his chair back, rises, and paces back and forth.
Does Gwen know her father cheated on her mother? She has to. Bobby said he visits her. Does he see her on campus? She’s never mentioned having a half-brother. Is she ashamed of him? My heart aches at the thought.
Were I to have half-siblings, I wouldn’t keep their existence a dirty secret or pretend they didn’t exist. I can’t imagine Gwen, one of the sweetest girls I know, would think of Bobby in that way.
“I need a picture. Show me a recent picture.” I’m not a gambler. I need to see for myself that we’re talking about the same Bobby.
Joey picks up his cell, taps on the screen, and slides the phone across the table to me. I pick it up and stare at the screen. Tall. Ripped. Dimpled smile. Bright green eyes. Chiseled jawline. And his arms are around a beautiful and leggy brunette.
