Once inside the cavernous space, Brantley took in the decor. The inside was even more impressive than the outside, although they’d left the castle feel behind. The interior was modern, with minimal decor and clean lines. The stained dark gray concrete beneath their feet had been polished to a glossy shine, the smooth walls painted a light flat gray, offset by a few art pieces one would expect to see in the Louvre.
Brantley made note of exits—you could never be too careful—as they followed Rock past a curved staircase that led to a second-floor landing, then through a sprawling living space set up with ivory leather couches that faced a wide electric fireplace set in a dark gray wall that soared up to the ceiling a good twenty-feet above.
He had to admit, he was impressed. Max Adorite might belong to the dregs of the earth, but the man had good taste.
Expecting to be led to a stuffy office right off the set ofTheGodfather, Brantley was pleasantly surprised when they entered the kitchen, where Max Adorite was sitting in a breakfast nook, his wife, Courtney, beside him.
Max’s gaze shifted to them, and Brantley saw the moment he recognized Reese. The man’s face softened instantly, his golden-brown eyes warming as he got to his feet and moved toward them.
“Reese,” Max said easily, holding out a hand. “It’s damn good to see you.”
Reese nodded, clearly not as thrilled to see Max if his lack of reciprocation was any indication.
Max took Reese’s rejection in stride, shifting his attention to Brantley, his extended hand moving toward him.
“And you must be Brantley Walker.”
Not wanting to be discourteous since they were in need of information, Brantley shook Max’s proffered hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All lies,” Max said with a smirk.
Brantley relaxed. He’d come here under the pretense that he would despise Max Adorite at first glance but found himself both impressed and amused, a combination he wasn’t familiar with.
This was going to be interesting.
***
From the moment Brantley agreed to seekMax’s help in finding out what was what with the mafia business down in Austin, Reese had been dreading the thought of facing off with him again.
Sure, it had something to do with the fact that Max was Madison’s brother, and by being here, his two worlds—past and present—had collided once again, which was something he’d hoped would never happen because he wanted to spare Brantley from having to relive what they’d already been through.
“Please, have a seat,” Max said, waving toward the vacant chairs at their breakfast table.
Reluctantly, Reese moved around to the chair adjacent to Courtney’s—opposite Max—and eased into it while Brantley took the one next to him.
“Can we get you somethin’ to drink?” Courtney offered, smiling over at them.
“I’m good, thanks,” he said quickly, wanting to ensure them this wasn’t a social visit.
Max took a seat next to his wife, shifting so that he was close to her, as though being too far away was a discomfort he couldn’t tolerate.
Maximillian Adorite looked the same as he always had, and if Reese didn’t know better, he’d say the guy hadn’t aged a day since the first time Reese had been introduced to him years ago. At thirty-five, he still had the youthful features of a man a good decade younger. He was clean-shaven, with a jaw hard as granite and a celestial nose that gave him an air of confidence and cockiness. His thick dark hair reflected the light, gleaming a brilliant blue-black beneath the overhead lights. But his honey-gold eyes shrouded by thick, arched eyebrows told the truth about his age, reflecting knowledge of a life that wasn’t entirely on the up-and-up, a life filled with pain and deceit, not to mention fear regardless of how well he masked it.
“What can I do for you?” Max asked, glancing between them.
“We’re workin’ a case,” Brantley explained. “One that involves a man we believe might’ve gotten himself mixed up in some business dealings in Austin.”
“I assume these business dealings are similar to mine?” Max’s eyebrows rose slowly, his gaze shifting to Reese. “Otherwise, why would you be here?”
Reese didn’t answer, leaving it to Brantley to speak.
“To a degree, yes. This might be a stretch due to the geography, but we were wonderin’ if you know a man named Johnathan Hartwood.”
There was a spark of recognition that flickered in Max’s eyes.
“I’m not acquainted with him, no,” Max clarified. “But I’ve heard of him.”
“Is he a major player?”
