“You asked me, dumbass.” He shrugged, but his face was more serious now. “Besides, I want to see what’s going down. Sounds like her family is awful, and if they’re threatening you, it wouldn’t hurt to have some backup.”
The mention of the threat should’ve made me pause. Brigham had implied that Michelle’s father and brother had been saying things, making moves, dangling danger in front of her like a damn game. It should have scared me. But it didn’t
I was bigger than most guys, had a lawyer one call away, and no issues handling myself if I needed to. If her piece-of-shit family thought they could just waltz into my life and demand money or threaten my mom, they were about to learn some hard lessons.
But this wasn’t just about me anymore.
I exhaled, rubbing a hand down my face. “Let me call my agent and let him know what’s going on. Just in case.”
“Not a bad idea.” Logan grabbed his wallet and phone, nodding toward the garage. “We taking your car?”
“They might be watching mine. Let’s take yours.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be in there when you’re ready to leave.”
As soon as Logan disappeared, I called Nick Sloane, agent extraordinaire. The second I told him what was happening, he launched into a string of curses that lasted a solid forty-five seconds.
“Brooks, I swear to fucking God,” he seethed. “Do not get involved. Let the cops handle this. If this gets out, if the press catches wind?—”
I cut him off. “Not an option. I have to see Michelle.”
“Jesus Christ. You baseball players are a different breed of reckless.” He exhaled loudly. “If you get arrested for brawling in a fucking diner parking lot, don’t call me until after you’ve posted bail.”
I hung up before he could say more.
I had made up my mind.
I was going to see Michelle. I’d wait at the diner until whatever was going down passed, and then I’d figure out if I had a shot at fixing this.
It wasn’t the smartest plan, but it was the only one I had.
By the time Logan and I pulled into the diner’s parking lot, the sky was a dusky shade of orange, the last traces of sunlight fading beneath the horizon. The place wasn’t packed, but Michelle’s car was there—parked in the farthest corner of the lot, away from the others.
That pissed me off
I scanned the area for anything suspicious. Was the older guy at the breakfast bar her dad? Or the stringy, tall dude in the corner her brother? Nothing stood out, but that didn’t mean nothing was happening.
Logan’s eyes followed my gaze, his frown deepening. “It might be a long night. She works until two a.m. sometimes.”
I nodded. “I have no plans.”
He gave me a sideways glance, studying me. “Hope I can help somehow.”
“You ready to go in?
“Might as well.”
We locked the car and walked inside, my nerves coiling tighter with each step.
The door chimed, and the familiar smell of grease and pickles filled the air. The curly-haired lady from the other night grinned as she spotted us. “Hey there, fellas, want a table or booth?”
“Somewhere with a good view outside,” I said immediately. I wanted to keep an eye on who came in.
“Sure thing.” She grabbed two menus, leading us toward a booth near the front before pausing, brow furrowing slightly. “Weren’t you two handsome guys in here the other night looking for Michelle?”
She turned back toward the kitchen. “She’s in tonight. Want me to send her over?”
Logan beat me to the answer. “Yes, please.” His dumbass smile was too charming, too casual. The woman blushed and scurried toward the back, and I kicked him under the table.
