This was going to get interesting.
Especially since Brantley chose that moment to inform Trey that he was now partnered with Magnus while Baz would be working with Decker Bromwell.
Yep. Very, very interesting.
“You did that on purpose.”
Brantley looked over at Reese. “Didwhaton purpose?”
“Invited Magnus.”
“I assure you, I had no ulterior motives,” he lied, glancing back at his brother briefly.
Reese sighed, probably thinking that, of all the people he knew, he’d never expected Brantley to be such a meddler.
In his defense, he wasn’t necessarily meddling. More like paying Trey back. Being older, Trey had picked on him endlessly growing up, and now that Brantley was in a position to give back, he couldn’t resist.
Or it could be the fact Brantley’d seen something different in Trey recently. Initially it had been what he believed was depression. Since he wasn’t a doctor and couldn’t very well make a medical diagnosis, he’d been keeping an eye on his brother. And the one thing he noticed that did bring Trey out of his funk … well, it happened to be the dog trainer.
So.
Here they were.
Turning his head toward Reese, Brantley said, “Tell me what you know about Max Adorite.”
“Not a whole lot, honestly. Probably not any more than what you’ve read about him. Mob boss. Took over the Adorite Crime Family, a.k.a. the Southern Boy Mafia, when his father, Samuel, was murdered.”
“Murdered? By whom?”
“No one seems to know.”
“Not even Madison?”
Brantley saw the shock on Reese’s face when he mentioned the name.
“If she does, she never said.” His gaze swung to the window. “She never really said much of anything about her family.”
That surprised Brantley. For whatever reason, he’d conjured up this loving, open relationship between Reese and Madison. One that involved dinners with the family, date nights, flowers, and breakfasts in bed, a lot of laughing and smiling.
Yeah, so his imagination had likely superimposed a bunch of flowery bullshit, but it didn’t change the fact that Reese had asked the woman to marry him.
“I read somewhere that he owns a club?” Brantley said, wanting to keep Reese talking.
“Devil’s Playground. Several locations across the country. Hot spot for the young and hip.”
“You go there often?”
Reese chuckled. “I haven’t been young and hip for a damn long time.”
Brantley knew Reese wasn’t referring to his age. Being that he was thirty-one, Reese would fall into the young category. However, it was the storm clouds in his eyes that told the story of how he’d come to live too hard, too fast. One day, Brantley hoped to learn what had happened that put those clouds there.
“This club … it a front for his businesses?”
“I’m not a forensic accountant, but I figure it’s a safe bet he launders money through. Certainly a perfect cash-producing setup.”
“What else is he into?”
“Guns and drugs mostly,” Reese answered easily. “He’s got some legit stuff goin’ on, too. He’s acquired more since he married Courtney Kogan.”
