“Oh, come on, now. Luca’s a good guy. I’m sure your cousin’s in good hands.”
Brantley’s head snapped over. “Please don’t mention Luca’s hands and my cousin in the same sentence.”
Laughing, Reese relaxed against the seat and stared out the window. “Wait. Where’re we goin’? I thought we were headin’ to the cabaret.”
“Nope. I’ve got Slade and Evan doin’ that.”
Reese sat up straight. “What?”
He noticed Brantley’s Adam’s apple bob slowly in his throat before he said, “I doubt we’ll get through the door of the club, much less get a chance to talk to anyone.”
That made a ridiculous amount of sense, but Reese didn’t think that was the reason Brantley had opted to send them in their place.
“I’m good, Brantley,” he said smoothly. “I swear it.”
Brantley peered over briefly before turning his attention back to the road.
“You don’t believe me.”
There was no response.
Reese considered getting pissed at that, but he refrained. For one, he still recalled the panic that had flooded his system when he’d seen the guy at the club earlier. Even now, the bullet wound in his chest throbbed whenever he thought about what had happened that night.
“Thank you,” he said simply, reaching over and putting his hand on Brantley’s.
To his surprise, Brantley turned his hand over and linked their fingers. “It takes time.”
He knew that. As much as he wanted to believe he was back to his old self, he knew better. He was still screwed up in the head. The good news was, there had been a time when he hadn’t been sure he’d ever be able to overcome the trauma of what happened that night. However, being home, being with Brantley … he felt himself getting stronger both mentally and physically.
“What do you say we take a drive,” Brantley said, giving Reese’s hand a squeeze. “See if maybe Toby’s hidin’ out at the lake.”
“Sounds like a plan.” After all, it sounded like a much better idea than going to an all-nude cabaret.
***
Slade Elliott got out of the carand closed the door as he stood staring at the mural painted on the brick wall that held the entrance to the Red Room Revue.
“You ever been here?”
He glanced over at Evan Vaughn and raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like a guy who frequents this type of place?”
“You want an honest answer?”
Slade chuckled, then smiled unabashedly. “Fine, but no, I haven’t been to this particular establishment.”
Didn’t mean he wasn’t a fan of strip clubs. Not his usual haunt on a night out, but he’d gone a time or twenty in his thirty-one years. Mostly before he’d fallen in love, gotten married, and settled into a life that he’d thought would be rainbows and unicorns. He should’ve known better. When the marriage imploded, Slade hadn’t found much interest in anything worthwhile, and places like this weren’t high on his list of things to do these days.
“I prefer dance clubs,” he admitted to his partner as they started toward the building.
“Let me guess, the ones that focus on line dancing.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
Evan grinned as he pulled the door open, and they stepped inside.
The place was just as he’d thought it would be. Dark and loud, with the main focus on a center stage currently occupied by three statuesque blonds lifting their top hats—the only article of clothing on their bodies—as they performed a choreographed number.
All eyes were on the trio, with the exception of a couple of bouncers hovering in the background.
