“Hey man, no word you were coming?” He takes a drag from his cigarette and squints his left eye as smoke drifts into it.
“Nope, it was kind of a last-minute thing.” I walk up the stairs after him and kick off my shoes at the front door. As I enter, the smell of coffee fills the air.
“Coffee? I just made some.” My cousin takes the pot from under the maker and pours himself a mug.
“I’m good, thanks.”
I sit on the kitchen’s built-in bench, closing my eyes briefly. If Alex doesn’t know anything, then I’m out of options, and I have to find Layne.
“What’s going on?” Raising his eyebrows, he pulls up a chair on the other side of the table in front of a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee. He picks up the spoon, takes a bite, and glances at me over the bowl.
I tell him what’s happened in the past month.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
“You could say that. She’s got to come home, Alex. There’s no other option. Rebel is inseparable from her mother, and…” I grit my teeth.
“And you’re going to lose it without her,” he simply says.
The muscle in my jaw twitches. “If she isn’t safe, then yeah, I will,” I mumble.
“Lemme think.” His one hand slides across his forehead and the other’s still furiously shoveling his breakfast into his mouth. “Vanderberg? Knights of Mayhem? Trafficking?” He mumbles around the cereal.
I just nod.
“I work for a lot of organizations, Ky, but as far as I know, the Knights of Mayhem keep everything in-house, and I’ve never heard of Vanderberg. I’m in a different scene than you, so don’t start about The Kid hearing about him. All I know is that he sometimes hires a buddy to collect money. But murder? Never heard of it either.” He shakes his head. “Trafficking isn’t really something you need a hitman for, man. Sorry.”
“I understand.” I bury my head in my hands.
“I’m really sorry, Ky, but I’m more into murder cases than black market stuff.” He sighs. “I wish I could help you. I really do.”
“I know,” I mumble. Suddenly, my phone vibrates, and I fumble for it in my pocket.
Pax: The Kid called. He’ll probably know more by tonight. He wants to talk to me.
Adrenaline rushes through me, and I start typing furiously.
Me: I’m coming with. No buts. I want to know what he has to say. Let me know what time.
“Good news?”
I’m startled by Alex’s voice. I mumble something unintelligible and then say, “Not good, not bad. No progress yet, but there’s hope. Thanks, man.” I get up and walk to the door.
“No need to thank me. I did nothing to help you. If you need me, you know where to find me.” My cousin walks over to the coffee machine and refills his mug.
“Yeah, later.” Just as my phone rings, I walk out the door.
“Kyler,” I mumble into the receiver.
Asher’s voice comes over the phone. “Yo, I just got a call from someone from the Knights of Mayhem.”
“What the fuck?” I swing my leg over the saddle of my motorcycle.
“They got my brother, Ky. They claim he stormed in there with his guns blazing. We can pick him up, but they’re pissed.” He sighs deeply. “Who the fuck do I call and where do we meet?”
Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit. What the fuck was Brooks thinking? “Okay.” I pause for a moment.
“Ky?”
