Sure he was.
“Well, you might wanna tell Quick Draw McGraw we’re not here to cause problems.” Brantley met Janeese’s gaze. “I’d hate to shoot him.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she masked her expression quickly before forcing another smile. “As I said, we haven’t seen Toby around lately. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Do you have a way to get in touch with him?” Reese inquired, his attention moving between Ronny and Janeese.
“No, but if you see him, you can let him know his loan’s come due, and the big boss wants to talk to him,” Ronny said, a slight whine in his voice.
Brantley fought the urge to smile. “Where might the big boss be now?”
“Takin’ care of business.”
“So he owns the place?” Reese asked, stepping past Janeese to speak directly to No Neck Twitchy Fingers.
Brantley noticed the way Reese’s shoulders squared, as though he was gearing up for a fight. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a sheen of sweat on his brow, too. Actually, now that he was looking, he noticed Reese’s hand was trembling, his eyes darting to the gun on the big guy’s hip frequently.
“Why don’t we just leave a card,” Brantley suggested, stepping in front of Reese and pulling a card from his pocket to pass over to Janeese.
When she took it and glanced down, Brantley nudged Reese’s arm, lowered his voice, and said, “They don’t have a beef with us.”
Reese’s eyes lifted to Brantley’s face, and for a second, he saw the wild, unfettered fear in them.
Hoping to distract Reese from what he clearly perceived as a threat, Brantley put his hand on his shoulder, squeezed lightly. “Let’s go see if we can find Uncle Toby. I’d like to hear some of his stories.”
That seemed to shake Reese out of his funk because his eyebrows danced upward, and his eyes cleared. A groan rumbled in his chest, and he knew the man was thinking about Toby and Cindy and their … history.
Disaster averted.
At least for now.
***
Reese walked out of the cabaret club, doing his best not to notice that his hands were still trembling. He was the only one pretending if the empathetic look Brantley was shooting his way was any indication.
“I think our best option’s to talk to Serendipity,” Brantley said as they got into the truck. “Who names their kid Serendipity, anyway? Or you think that’s a stage name?”
“I’m fine,” Reese said, acknowledging that Brantley was trying to create a diversion.
“Are you?”
Reese appreciated that there was no accusation in Brantley’s tone. He sounded sincere and, yes, a little worried. Reese couldn’t blame him. There for a minute, he’d thought he was having a panic attack. Okay, fine. He probably had been having one, but acknowledging it wasn’t going to make anything better. Then again, denying it would only make it worse.
Fuck.
He exhaled heavily and nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure. I’m good.”
The silence that lingered told Reese that Brantley didn’t believe him. He wasn’t sure how to prove otherwise since it technically was a little white lie.
Brantley hit the button to start the truck. “How about this? Since it’s obvious the big boss doesn’t know where Toby is either, I say we head to the range for a couple of hours and waste some time until Serendipity’s at work. This evenin’, we’ll come back, see if we can chat with Toby’s ex, and figure out where he might be. In the meantime, I’ve got Luca lookin’ into the phone. If he finds somethin’, we’ll check it out first. What’d’ya say?”
“Sure.”
Brantley turned toward him.
The next thing Reese knew, a hard hand was on the back of his neck, and he was being pulled forward until his mouth was almost touching Brantley’s.
His voice was low and husky when he said, “It’s either that or I take you home and fuck you because right now, that’s the only thing I can think about. I figured the range would be a good distraction for both of us.”
