“Reese?”
Jerking his attention to Brantley, he schooled his expression. “I’m good.”
He could see the concern in Brantley’s eyes, but thankfully the man kept his opinions to himself.
***
If Brantley could’ve come without Reese orZ, he would have. He figured RT was thinking the same thing right now, too. It was a gamble to bring them since they were too close to the situation. Based on what little information they had, their mother had been kidnapped in a crowded restaurant by a man who was on the run from both the police and some goons who wanted something from him.
They were lacking on the information front, and that bothered Brantley. He didn’t know what they were up against because there were still too many gaps in the story, so much that didn’t make sense. So far, everything they’d come up with was based on assumptions and theories, not cold, hard facts. For all they knew, Cindy could’ve wanted to be whisked away by her former lover.
Well, maybe not the last part. Brantley didn’t believe that one for a second. Cindy Tavoularis was a woman of integrity and class. She wouldn’t dump her current boyfriend to run away with an old flame. And if by some strange chance she had, she would’ve had the decency to tell Z and Reese, at the very least.
It only took a few minutes for them to reach the cabin. They left the motorcycles, along with their helmets, at the edge of the property. After inserting their comms, they moved in on foot, taking it slow as they assessed the area, ensuring no one was hiding in the trees or monitoring the perimeter. Considering how elusive Toby’d been throughout this whole ordeal, Brantley wouldn’t put it past the guy. And if hewerePatrick O’Brien, the infamous Irish mobster no one seemed to know anything about, as JJ had said, it would make even more sense.
“Found a small shed,” Z’s voice rang in his ear. “Give me a sec to clear it.”
“Roger that,” Brantley responded, slowing his pace and watching as Reese did the same.
They continued forward but waited to see if Z would need backup. A moment later, an “all clear” came through, signaling for them to proceed.
Brantley picked up the pace, scanning his surroundings, his hand on the butt of his gun. He wanted to avoid moving in hot on the off chance this wasn’t Toby’s place. The last thing he wanted was to scare some unsuspecting family with guns.
He came to a stop when he saw a parked car at the rear of the structure. Glancing to his left, he signaled to Reese that he would check it out. When Reese nodded, Brantley moved forward. He glanced in the windows, back seat first, then front. Empty. No cups, no empty food containers. And no woman’s purse to signify that, yes, they were here. He felt the hood of the car to see if the engine was hot, something to tell them how long they’d been here.
He caught Reese looking at him expectantly, so he shook his head, letting him know it was cool to the touch. They’d been here a while.
“Car’s clear,” he relayed to the others before moving toward the cabin.
Using hand signals, he directed RT and Z to stay with the plan, taking the rear while he and Reese moved around to the front. Brantley kept to the shadows and away from the windows to avoid being seen from inside. He moved slowly up the steps to the wide front porch, praying there weren’t any loose boards that would give away their presence.
As soon as he saw the state-of-the-art lock on the front door, he knew gaining entry wasn’t going to be as easy as they’d thought. There would be no kicking this one down. They could try for the window, but if the past told him anything, it never gave them the proper vantage point.
Glancing at Reese, he nodded toward the biometric lock and raised his eyebrows, seeking his input on how he wanted to handle this. Brantley was all for knocking shit down and making his own entrance if he had to, but not when Reese’s mother’s life hung in the balance.
“Back door’s secured with state-of-the-art technology,” RT’s voice came through his earpiece.
“Same for the front,” he replied softly.
As they were standing there trying to figure out a way in, the locks began to disengage on the front door.
Brantley stepped back, taking cover to the side of the door and aiming his gun at head level, preparing for the threat that appeared.
“I’m unarmed.”
The door opened slowly, and a man appeared. He was dressed in all black and holding… Was that a bag of frozen vegetables pressed against his head?
“Who the fuck are you?” Reese demanded, his gun aimed directly at the man’s face.
“Whoa, Nelly,” the guy said, holding up his hands in a sign of surrender and wincing as he did. “Name’s Atticus James.” He released the door as he stepped back into the cabin. “My ID’s in my pocket if you want it.”
Brantley cut his gaze to Reese and nodded before stepping forward to reach into the guy’s pocket.
“Don’t be too handsy, big fella,” the guy joked. “I might like it.”
Ignoring him, Brantley pulled the wallet out of his jeans pocket and skimmed the ID. The name matched the one the guy gave, and there was a Garland address, meaning he was from the Dallas area. His date of birth put him in his mid-twenties based on Brantley’s quick math. Funny since he’d adopted the language of someone three times his age.
Brantley skimmed the other items in the wallet: two credit cards, twenty-two dollars, and a business card for a bail bondsman. He flashed the card in Reese’s direction so he could see what they were dealing with.
