“You wouldn’t,” Tate quipped. “It’s barely even a dot on the map…unless you’re looking for Crystal Meth…then it’s Mecca.”
“Your family deals meth?”
“Don’t call them that,” Tate ordered softly. “Those men were never my family.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, but the hatred in Tate’s voice was clear. And it was a good sign for me. “They’re dealers?”
Tate nodded.
“They use too?”
“Denny does…at least he did the last time I saw him.”
“And your father?”
Tate stiffened but didn’t contradict me. “No,” was all he said.
“What’s his name?”
“Dennis Buckley,” Tate responded. “Everyone calls him Buck.”
“That lady called you Travers,” I said as I thought back to the woman who had been watching Tate’s son. Tate remained stubbornly silent. Since my question had been asked out of curiosity rather than necessity, I let it go.
“How did you find me?” Tate asked suddenly.
I studied him for a long moment. “Your DNA was a partial match to the DNA left at a crime scene.”
“A murder, you mean,” Tate murmured. “How did you get my DNA?”
I ignored the question and studied Tate. He was sitting calmly in the chair, but I could see a slight shudder roll through his frame every now and then and he kept shifting his eyes nervously towards his son’s room before moving them back to me as subtly as he could, as if he was somehow hoping I’d forgotten about his son’s presence. I felt a shimmer of pity for him at the fear he must be feeling, not for himself but for his kid.
It wasn’t until Tate again glanced at Matty’s room that I finally noticed what had been bothering me from the moment we’d sat down at the table. Tate’s eyes – they didn’t match. One was a startling bright blue while the other was a soft, subtle golden brown color. The contrast was intriguing…so intriguing that I caught myself staring at him as warmth settled in my belly.
What the fuck?
“I don’t know what else to tell you.”
It took me a moment to process Tate’s words because as soon as I’d managed to tear my eyes from his, I was dropping them to his mouth. His lips were fuller than I would have expected to see on a man.
“You don’t seem surprised to learn your father and brother arewanted for murder,” I managed to say as I forced my eyes away from his mouth.
“Sir-”
“It’s Hawke,” I interrupted, though I wasn’t sure why I’d told him that since my name was of no importance in the situation. In fact, it was downright stupid to give the man any clue to my identity.
But Tate’s words surprised me. “I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t care who you are or why you’re looking for them. I don’t care what you’re going to do when you find them. Tonight never happened.” His eyes held mine as he repeated, “Tonight. Never. Happened.”
The guy had balls, I had to give him that. He had absolutely no power, but he was still trying to stare me down. The show of strength should have pissed me off, or in the least, irritated me. But I found myself actually admiring him. Even if his demeanor was begging for trouble, I couldn’t help but think that I preferred it to the blank look he’d had when I’d first threatened him before his kid had arrived.
“Daddy?”
Tate jumped to his feet at the sound of his son’s voice and he immediately put himself between me and the little boy. “What are you doing up?” Tate asked as he quickly lifted Matty into his arms.
“I forgot Spidey,” he mumbled.
I grabbed the gun off the table and followed Tate to the front door where Matty’s discarded backpack lay. He rifled through the bag and pulled out what looked to be an eighties era version of a Spiderman doll. Matty smiled sleepily as he clutched the doll to his chest. Tate watched me over his shoulder as he began to head towards Matty’s room.
“G’night Captain,” Matty called before dropping his head on Tate’s shoulder. I watched them disappear into the darkened room and then glanced down at Matty’s backpack. I had what I needed.
