Odette sighed. “What the hell is Elite?”
“It’s his friend’s security company. Right?” Bowie asked.
Javier nodded, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Bowie had never really seen Javier as anything but relaxed, even the day he casually planned a triple homicide. Something about this package in particular had him rattled, and that unsettled Bowie. He needed Javier to be the calm one so that he could freak out. They couldn’t both be freaking out at the same time. Somebody had to drive this struggle bus.
Elite’s offices were in an upscale high-rise in a wealthy part of town. Bowie felt weird standing on the elevator with men in three-piece suits while Javier glowered at them, holding a bloody trash bag. Strangely, none of the men seemed horrified, just leery. By the time they’d made it to the top, only the three of them remained. When the doors opened, they were dumped into the center of a large office space. “It’s Sunday. Are they open?” Bowie asked again.
“Private security is sort of a twenty-four/seven endeavor.”
A large man with bulging biceps and a high and tight haircut walked out of the office at the back, a young blond man behind him. There were no walls in the space, only glass windows, some with shades drawn. “Javier.”
Odette rolled her eyes as Javier shook the man’s hand then gave him a one-armed hug. “Lincoln. How’s it going, man. Thanks for coming in.”
Lincoln slapped him on the back. “Yeah, anything for family. How’s your uncle?”
Javier shook his head. “You know. The same ball-buster he’s always been.”
Lincoln’s laugh was rich and deep and the boy, who Bowie, at first glance, thought was his son, gazed at him with so much adoration it finally dawned on Bowie that they both wore wedding rings. Damn.
“This is Bowie, and that’s his friend, Odette,” Javier said, pointing to each in turn. “Bowie, Odette, this is Linc and his husband, Wyatt.”
With introductions out of the way, Linc turned to the blond boy. “Wyatt—”
“Uh-uh. No way, baby cakes. If the next words out of your mouth are ‘wait in my office,’ save your breath. You dragged me away from brunch and my second margarita. I’m gonna see what’s in the bloody trash bag. So, don’t even try it. This is the most excitement I’ve had since Webster went to prison.”
Odette beamed at him. “I like this one.”
“Wyatt.” There was no missing the hint of warning in Linc’s tone.
It would have stopped Bowie in his tracks, but Wyatt just arched a brow. “Don’t push me or I’ll call Charlie and the others. I can get the band back together in twenty minutes if you want to turn this trash bag into a circus.”
Linc gave a defeated sigh before looking at the amused faces of those witnessing their exchange. “Let’s go into the conference room. Webster and Cy are on their way here. He can collect any evidence left behind.”
“Who’s Webster?” Bowie asked.
“Nicky. Cy’s husband. His last name is Webster.”
“Oh,” Bowie said. This was all so confusing.
Javier, Bowie, and Odette entered the conference room. Bowie overheard Lincoln mutter to Wyatt under his breath, “What did I say about you calling mebaby cakesat work?”
“Would you rather I called you Daddy?” Wyatt countered softly.
Lincoln grunted. “I’d rather you behaved yourself.”
“Now, that’s not really on brand for me, is it?” Wyatt asked with a snort.
Javier paced the length of the conference room, staring at the plastic garbage bag like the threat it was. He didn’t have to know what was in it to know what it represented. A warning. A warning to the wrong person. Or maybe the right one depending on what the goal was. If they were looking to terrorize the guy responsible for shooting three people then they’d hit their target even with their gun pointed in the wrong direction. A threat to Bowie was a threat to Javier and it would be dealt with accordingly. He wouldn’t tolerate anybody coming after Bowie, especially if they were truly looking for him.
From somewhere just outside, the elevator doors dinged, and then Cy and Nicky were entering the room followed by Lawson. He frowned when he realized Preacher and Memphis weren’t far behind. He didn’t even know they were back in town.
“What are you guys doing here?” Javier asked.
“You’re fucking welcome,” Preacher said, voice like saw dust.
Javier’s shoulders sagged. He was being an asshole, but he couldn’t help it. “Thanks for coming, man.”
“It’s the least we could do after your gracious wedding gift,” Memphis said, giving him a pointed look. Yeah, that. Javier would have considered it more of a bit of karmic justice than a gift, but he’d take the extra help either way. It was good to have his own people around, even if they were eyeballing him like he’d been keeping a secret.
