“I’m sorry to hear that.”
The man was talking them in circles, and Brantley got the impression that was how he got out of difficult discussions. By pretending not to have the answers.
“Where’s your sister now?” Brantley asked, dropping all pretenses.
“As I said, she’s probably at home, but honestly, I don’t know. She’s been spending a lot of time with that fiancé of hers.”
Brantley didn’t imagine the slight snarl that accompanied the wordfiancé.
“We need to talk to her.”
“You should call her.”
“We’ve tried that,” Brantley said, his patience dissolving.
Ronan didn’t respond.
Brantley glanced down the table at Becs, Slade, and Atticus. “Would you give us a minute?”
Becs immediately stood. “Sure.”
“Would you mind takin’ Tesha?” Reese asked her.
Becs came around the table and took Tesha’s leash, whispering to the dog as she led her out of the room.
“Go,” Brantley told Slade and Atticus more forcefully.
He could tell they didn’t want to, but they got to their feet and walked out behind Becs, closing the door.
“When was the last time you saw your sister?” Brantley asked when it was only the three of them in the room.
Ronan glanced at the door.
Brantley waited until he met his gaze. “Look. We’re here looking for a colleague, and we’re not leaving until we find him. With or without your help. If you help us, there’s a good chance whatever it is you’re attempting to hide will remain secret. But if you don’t, we’re gonna rifle through every inch of your life until we find what we’re lookin’ for. Your choice,Ronan.”
***
Reese was glad Brantley was steering thisconversation. Within the first minute, he’d realized Ronan wasn’t going to give them any information. About anything.
The guy was as tight-lipped as someone else Reese knew. However, mentioning that there was a similarity between Ronan Kavanagh and Max Adorite didn’t seem like the best way to approach this. God knows what would happen if he did. If the Kavanaghs had ties with the Irish mob—there was nothing directly linking them that he’d found so far aside from rumors and gossip—he figured that would put Ronan on edge. They weren’t here to rile the man or taunt him with accusations. Reese wanted to find Decker. That was his only objective.
Clearly, this wasn’t going to be an easy case. Ronan was hiding something. Reese had known it from the moment they stepped into the building. If he had to guess, those rumors were indeed fact, and the Kavanaghs were hiding their shady business dealings beneath this conglomerate. Since JJ hadn’t yet unearthed anything concrete, they were doing a damn good job of it.
That didn’t mean Reese wanted to find himself in the middle of some sort of mob war. And he prayed that Decker wasn’t already there. If Decker was working for Max and had embedded himself in the Kavanagh’s organization, there was a damn good chance the guy was dead in an alley somewhere. Or tied up in someone’s basement, being beaten for information.
Reese was doing his best not to form the worst-case scenario, but it wasn’t easy. Decker Bromwell wasn’t the easiest man to work with, nor was he the most sociable in other settings, but that didn’t mean Reese wished him any ill will.
With that said, Reese also didn’t want to get taken advantage of, and based on Ronan’s responses so far, Z hadn’t been forthcoming about everything he knew. Reese intended to take it up with his brother as soon as he walked out the door.
“Where’s Saoirse, Ronan?” Brantley asked, his tone rife with frustration. The longer Ronan was silent, the more intense it became.
Finally, there was a stirring of emotion in Ronan’s olive-green eyes. He sat up straight, clasped his fingers together tightly, and rested his hands on the table.
“I do not know, but I don’t think she’s missing.”
Finally, an inkling of truth. And now they were getting somewhere.
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
