Chapter 5
A few minutes past seven,Mason pushed through the doors of the Triple T Steakhouse, his guard up the second he stepped into the dim interior. The soles of his boots stuck to the dried beer splattering the faded linoleum, the twangy wail of country music blasting from the blown-out speakers against the back wall. Definitely more of a dive bar than a restaurant, despite the name.
Fantastic.
The overpowering stench of cheap booze, stale fry grease, and charred meat hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. He scanned the room for his brother, worry gnawing at him.
Please, Lord, don’t let Paul be back on the sauce.
The kid had kicked his budding alcohol problem years ago. As far as Mason knew, he’d been stone-cold sober for over three years. But then again, it’s not like they’d been exchanging Christmas cards.
He shoved the pointless thoughts aside and kept scanning the joint. Three of the ten high-backed booths along the wall were occupied by couples in office attire, probably just off the clock. No threat there.
Over at the pool tables, a crew of meatheads were focused on their game, beers in hand. Two sported facial scars—brawlers for sure. The others moved with the loose aggression of guys who could take a punch as well as they could throw one. They sized Mason up for a second before going back to their shots. He filed them under potential threats. Too slow and too untrained to give him any real trouble, but too tough to write off completely.
Still no sign of Paul. Mason wove through the mostly empty tables, his senses on high alert. Whatever mess his brother had landed in this time, Mason could only pray it didn’t involve the bottle or a bookie. Some things even he couldn’t fix.
He swallowed hard, the knot in his gut tightening. This whole situation had bad news written all over it.
He just needed to find Paul and get him safely out of here. Then he could start digging into what kind of trouble his wayward brother had fallen into this time. Rescuing Paul was his responsibility, just as it had been since they were kids. However much it cost him. At least he no longer had to worry about hiding the details from their mom. Given her place in Heaven, she’d know everything anyway.
A quick laugh from the corner of the bar farthest from the door made him start. Paul’s laugh. He swung his head in that direction. Yup. His brother sat, elbows on the bar, his attention focused on the pretty woman occupying the stool next to him. Mason snorted, feeling something south of disgust but north of full-blown anxiety. Things couldn’t be too bad if Paul was making eyes at a pretty girl.
Oh, who was he kidding? This was Paul he was talking about. The kid had the common sense of a tire iron.
Mason wove through the tables toward the bar, keeping his brother in his sights. Relief washed over him. Paul looked okay—tired and stressed, but at least he hadn’t been skipping meals. The perpetual knot in Mason’s chest loosened a notch. He hadn’t seen his brother looking this healthy in ages.
At the bar, a clear soda sat at Paul’s elbow. Another point in Paul’s favor. Looked like he had his booze problem under control. But who was the woman with him?
She was a looker—smooth dark skin and thick, glossy hair. More concerning was the way she hung on Paul’s every word. She was way out of his league. Which could only mean one thing—trouble.
It looked like they were flirting. Mason’s steps faltered, irritation spiking. Now? Really?
Glaring daggers, he ate up the last few steps, ready to drag his brother outside.
Oblivious to Mason’s irritation, Paul sat up straighter, gaze eager and expectant like a puppy. Grinning from ear to ear, he waved Mason over. “Mason, hey! Come meet Candy.”
Mason stopped beside them, eyeing the woman hard. Up close, she was even more stunning. But her smile didn’t reach her sharp eyes. His instincts screamed—this was no ditzy party girl. Her casual body language clashed with the intelligence in her gaze.
His gut feeling solidified. Whoever she was, this woman had an agenda. No way it involved trying to score a date with his brother.
Paul tipped his glass at him. “Candy, meet Mason.”
“Hey,” she said smoothly, raking an appraising gaze over his body.
He nodded absently, his focus on Paul. “You two known each other long?”
Paul made a face, looking pleased. “About ten minutes, right Candy?”
Mason crossed his arms, his stare icy. “We should get going,” he told Paul pointedly. He wanted this woman away from his brother yesterday.
Paul’s grin wavered. “Oh, um, yeah sure.” He turned back to the woman, his voice reluctant. “I gotta run, but it was really nice meeting you.”
She touched his arm lightly. “You, too. Be sure to keep my number. Maybe we can hang out sometime.” Her knowing gaze shifted to Mason, lingering. “Or double date. My roommate’s a lot of fun.”
Mason’s hands curled into fists. In a heartbeat, everything clicked. The tells were all there. Whatever trouble Paul thought he was in, this woman was involved.
Which made her the enemy.
He grabbed his brother’s arm, yanking Paul off his stool and steering him toward the exit. “Nice to meet you,” he muttered over his shoulder.
Paul tried to shake him off. “Aw come on. One drink won’t hurt.”
Mason dug his fingers in harder, his patience evaporating. “I don’t drink. And neither do you anymore. Let’s go.” He propelled Paul outside, ignoring the woman’s surprised look.
Once they hit the parking lot, Mason released his grip. Paul elbowed him good-naturedly. “You didn’t have to be so rude. I think she was into me.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Jealous much?”
Mason headed for his beige rental sedan. “She wasn’t into you.”
“I know women. She was definitely giving me signals.”
Mason kept walking. “No signals. She’s law enforcement. Either Seattle PD or FBI. Maybe ATF.”
“What?” Paul paled instantly. “No way. How can you tell?”
Mason rattled off the clues: the practical shoes, the heavy purse, the strategic seating, placing herself between her target and the only exit.
With each detail, Paul’s confident grin faded. “What are we gonna do?”
They weren’t going to do squat. He’d handle it. Alone. Like always.
Mason opened the passenger door, waving Paul inside. “First, we’re getting you somewhere secure. Then you’re telling me everything, from the very beginning.”
After Mason took care of business. He jammed his hand into his pocket, pulling out a thick zip tie.
Paul jerked away, his head smacking the passenger window. “Hey, what the––”
Mason grabbed his wrist, forcing his brother’s arm close to the grab bar, then yanking the zip tie tight with a satisfying tug. “I need to have a chat with your new girlfriend. Don’t go anywhere.” Mason slipped away before Paul could argue further.
Whatever the woman’s game was, she was flying solo. The perfect opportunity to find out what she wanted with Paul.
He strode back into the bar, senses on high alert. But the woman had vanished. He stalked through the joint and shoved through the back exit into the alley.
The hunt was on.