Dillon cracked his knuckles. Okay, so Coke lived outside of Waco. Was that where he was from, though? Coke had met Jason Scott’s dad at little rodeos early in his career, and Jason was from east Texas.
So, he narrowed his search from say, Waco to Texarkana and hunted for…what? And why was he pretending this was about genealogy? He burned with curiosity about Coke’s past.
Maybe a public records search. Births, deaths, driver’s licenses. Well, he’d seen Coke’s license, had the number right in the hard drive for all the bank paperwork, so he went that direction. The license had been issued in the year 2000.
Wait.
Wait, that couldn’t be right. No way. Coke had never lived anywhere but Texas, right? So why was his number issued that late? Dillon chewed his lower lip.
Maybe… Maybe Coke… Maybe Coke was a nickname, something that had been used for so long that was what was listed.
Okay. So, what next?
“Hey, Dillon.”
Dillon jumped, feeling guilty as hell. “Hey, Denver. What’s up?”
“Have you seen Cash?”
“Not this morning, no.” He fought the urge to hide his screen.
“Huh. Maybe he went ahead and left with Ace. I’ll ask Cheyenne if she knows.”
“Sure.” He waited for Denver to trot off before widening his public records search to divorces and name changes. What the hell.
Dillon could totally see that—Coke getting married real early, then getting divorce when he realized he was gay. Guys in theirworld did it all the time. Hell, a lot of them swung whatever way they could, just like his ex, David.
He crowed when he got a hit, and he paid the $9.99 to join the site so he could see what it said.
Aaron Bell.
What the fuck?
Coke’s real name was Aaron Bell?
It had been changed back in 1990, and there was the paperwork to prove it, right there in Harris County. Pasadena, Texas. How weird was that? He’d have just been a baby back then.
There were no divorces for Aaron Bell, though.
Huh.
Coke’s birthday was April 28. A Taurus. Good to know. Dillon grinned. As a Gemini, they were probably not supposed to be compatible.
Good thing he didn’t believe in that shit.
Okay. Aaron Bell, April 28. Now, what else could he dig up? Bell family? Pasadena?Lalala.
Two names came up with that birth date. Aaron and Anthony. The same address. The same hospital.
Holy shit. Dillon stared at the computer, stunned.
His Coke was a twin? Seriously? How could you not tell people that you have a twin? At least your people. As in people you loved people.
Maybe Anthony had died young. Or had been abducted by aliens.
That would be a fun story, at least. Fun for him, if not Coke.
“Dillweed!” Adam Taggart jogged up the steps to the porch. “Come play horseshoes with us.”
