CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

Crossing to the entrance of the rec center, Havana smiled at Corbin, hoping that he wouldn’t notice just how brittle that smile was. Sexual frustration plucked at her composure, and her body was still tingling in all sorts of places. More annoyingly, the source of said frustration was walking beside her with his bodyguards trailing behind him.

She’d considered fighting Tate on coming along, but he was right; he might be able to identify Hyman. The quicker she found out who this cougar was and what he wanted with her, the better she and her stressed-out devil would feel.

“Morning, Corbin,” Havana greeted.

“It really is a fine one, isn’t it?” Bailey smiled brightly. “Tate and his cats are here to meet our guest and help us work out what’s going on.”

Corbin tipped his chin at Tate. “Devereaux,” he greeted politely, having met him through their mutual contacts from the local homeless shelter for loners.

Tate gave him a nod. “Good seeing you again, Corbin.”

Once the grizzly had exchanged greetings with the others, Havana asked him, “Have you spoken to Hyman this morning?”

“Yes,” replied Corbin, pushing open the center’s front door. “His dignity was all over the basement floor, along with his vomit and shit and piss. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. I have a feeling he’ll be more cooperative today.”

Tate frowned. “Vomit, shit, and piss?”

“My venom causes diarrhea and puking and lots of other wonderful stuff,” Bailey explained as they all filed inside the building.

“Wait, you bit him?” Luke asked the mamba.

She nodded, sliding him an odd look—she often watched him warily, believing the Beta had a dark side. “We stripped him naked, tied him up, and then left him to suffer the effects of the venom all by his lonesome.”

“After spending hours sitting in his own waste and finally escaping the pain, it’s unlikely that he’s going to want to go through it all over again,” Aspen added.

Tate squinted. “And whose idea was it to go at him that way?”

“Havana’s,” Bailey told him.

Havana ignored the curious glance Tate cast her. This was another reason she hadn’t wanted him to come. He was bound to notice that she was no stranger to interrogating people, and he might wonder why. Well, he’d just have to wonder.

As they walked through the center, Corbin spoke to Havana, “Keeping him tied to the chair, I dragged him out of the puddle of waste and then washed both our guest and the floor with the portable hose, but it still reeks down there. Just thought I’d warn you.”

“No worries,” said Havana. “Thanks for cleaning him up. Couldn’t have been a fun job.”

“He whined like a bitch the whole time, like I was washing him with acid,” Corbin grumbled.

Havana led the way as they descended the basement steps. Sure enough, the scents of bile, ammonia, shit, and pure shame laced the air. It took everything she had not to balk. Her devil shook her head as if to shake off the potency of the smells.

Havana gave their captive a winning smile. Pale, tremoring, and clearly dehydrated, he was looking more than a little worse for wear. “Morning, Hyman. I heard youmade quite a mess of yourself during the night.” She flapped her hand. “Don’t worry, there’s no need for you to go through all that again. Unless, of course, it’s what you want.”

Havana held up the bottle of water she’d brought with her, and he swallowed with an audible click of his tongue. She unscrewed the cap and removed it. “Tip your head back.” He did so, and she carefully poured some water down his throat. “You may have noticed the newbies. They’re from the Olympus Pride. The one coming toward you is Tate Devereaux, the Alpha, in case you don’t recognize him.”

Fear flickered in Hyman’s eyes.

Tate sidled up to her and glared down at the cougar. “I’m also Havana’s landlord, and I’m naturally pretty pissed that someone would target a female who’s under my protection. What’s your name?”

The cougar swallowed and then coughed. “Rupert Merchant,” he replied, his voice hoarse.

Havana smiled again. “It sure is a pleasure to meet you, Rupert.”

“I prefer Hyman—just sayin’,” Bailey interjected.

“I admit, it does have a certain ring to it.” Havana dragged over a stool and sat down in front of him. “Are you part of a cougar pride, Rupert?”

He gave a lethargic shake of the head. “Loner.”

“I see. Well, as you can imagine, I’m awfully curious as to why you shot me with tranqs last night. Maybe you could clear that up for me.”

He licked his lower lip and briefly averted his gaze.

“Or Bailey can bite you again. That’s always an option. Look, this can go one of two ways. You can answer our questions and then die. Or you can piss around, relive the experience you had last night, and then we’ll talk again once the venom has worn off. Either way, we’re not going to stop questioning you until we get our answers.” She paused. “Why did you come for me?”

He was silent for a long moment. “It … it was just a job.”

“A job?”

“I got a message on my cell. It had your name, address, car registration, and the address of where you work. I was to grab you and take you to the abandoned factory near the old lighthouse. Your car wasn’t parked outside your building, so I came here, noticed your car in the lot, and I waited.”

Unease pricked its way up Havana’s spine, and her devil froze. “Someone texted you my details? Who?”

“Don’t know. Never met the guy. He called me one day and said he’d heard good things about me from his associates; heard I’m a man who gets shit done and he’d like to have me on his payroll. I couldn’t trace his call, he made it through a spoofing site. He always contacts me that way.”

Tate folded his arms. “And what is it you do for him?”

Rupert hesitated. “It’s always the same—he sends me a person’s details and a location where I should take them. It’s never the same location, and he’s never the one waiting for me.”

“Who is?” asked Tate.

“There are only ever two guys—they’ve never told me their names. They barely even talk to me, but I know from their voices that neither of them is the guy who calls me. When I arrive, they transfer whoever I’ve brought from my van to theirs.”

And that would have been Havana’s fate, Tate thought, grinding his teeth. Her devil shifter DNA was the only thing that had saved her. If it hadn’t been for that, he’d have probably received a call at some point today to tell him that she was missing. The very idea made his cat lash out with his claws. “How do you contact this man who hired you?”

“I don’t. He contacts me.”

“And what does he want with these people you retrieve for him?”

“He never said. But they’re always lone shifters. Sometimes women, sometimes men, sometimes children. Different breeds of shifter. Like he’s picking people at random, or just wants a random selection of people.”

Sometimes children. Anger bloated Tate’s insides, but he kept it out of his tone as he asked, “And you have no idea why?”

“He never told me. And the guys who I deliver the loners to wouldn’t tell me shit either.”

“Describe these men for me,” said Havana.

“They wore ski-masks. I never saw their faces. But I scented that they’re jaguars.”

Tate lifted his brow. “And the person who hired you? Is he a shifter?”

“I don’t know—he never said, and I never asked.”

“The jaguars didn’t once say anything that would give you an idea of what their boss wanted all these loners for?” asked Havana, her tone purely conversational.

Tate noted that she sure was good at acting calm and non-judgmental even while she had to be pissed.

The cougar swallowed. “One time, when I was just about to drive away after dropping off a swan shifter, I had the window open and heard one guy say that the boss would definitely get ‘top dollar’ for the swan. I didn’t hear all of the second guy’s response, but I heard the words ‘shame you and me can’t bid at the auction.’”

Tate tensed. “Auction?”

“They also said something about ‘the family’ and ‘kin’ and ‘patriarch.’ Like … I don’t know, like they were mafia or something.”

Wariness stiffened Tate’s muscles, and he exchanged a look with his brother.

“That’s all I know,” said Rupert. “It’s all I wanted to know. If you know too much, you become a liability. I didn’t want to get bumped off.”

“And so you kept on delivering loners, knowing what their fate would be.” What a fucking prince. “What about your partner who drove the van last night? What does he know?”

“No more than I do.”

“What’s his name, and where do we find him? Rupert,” Tate pressed when he failed to answer.

The cougar’s mouth tightened. “He’s a friend.”

“One who left you behind,” Bailey cut in, doing a pirouette for some damn reason. “Is he worth going through another fifteen hours of venom-induced misery?”

Rupert winced and then muttered a low curse. “Sinclair,” he eventually burst out. “His name is Sinclair Rodgers.” Rupert reluctantly rattled off his address. “He won’t be there. He’ll have packed his shit and left by now.”

“You think he’ll be on the run?” Havana asked.

“He’d be stupid to hang around after we failed to deliver you,” Rupert told her. “We messed up once before. The boss doesn’t tolerate failure but gave us a second chance. We screwed that up.”

“In that case, it’s best not to give Sinclair more time to flee.” Havana looked from Aspen to Camden. “Go check his apartment on the off-chance that he’s still there. Be careful.” The pair nodded and disappeared up the stairs.

“Go with them,” Tate told Farrell, who instantly obeyed.

Havana turned back to Rupert. “Now, I want the names of all the people you were hired to kidnap. I also want the locations you were instructed to take the loners.”

“Can I have some more water?”

“Names and dump sites,” she pushed.

“I don’t remember all of them. I can give you the ones I remember.”

Havana typed every name and location into the notepad app on her phone.

Tate cocked his head, glaring at the cougar. “It didn’t bother you to snatch all those people? You’re a lone shifter yourself. Surely that should have made you a little reluctant to take this job.”

Rupert shrugged. “Being a loner is no breeze. Their lives were already fucked.”

“My life isn’t,” said Havana, pocketing her phone, so pissed at this fucker she almost couldn’t stand it. Loners were in enough danger from packs and clans etc. They didn’t need additional danger coming from other lone shifters. The fact that he could kidnap children and not give a sliver of a fuck what happened to them … he really did need to die. Slowly. Painfully. “In fact, I happen to like my life a lot. Who’s to say that they weren’t enjoying their lives until you delivered them to be auctioned off?”

“If I hadn’t done the job, someone else would have,” Rupert insisted. “And it’s not like I hurt them. I’m just the delivery guy.”

“Were, Rupert, you were the delivery guy.” Havana stood upright. “After today, you won’t be anything, because I don’t intend for you to live to see the end of it.”

Rupert notched up his chin. “Fine. Get it over with.”

What, as if she’d give him a swift execution? He didn’t deserve one. Havana would have enjoyed spending a few hours putting him through a tremendous amount of pain, but she couldn’t handle the stench down here much longer. Plus, it was probably best not to make it clear to Tate that she had some experience with torture.

She didn’t look away from the cougar as she said, “Bailey.” Wicked fast, the female shifted. “I think three bites should do it.”

He tensed as the mamba slithered out of the puddle of clothes. “No. No.”

“Yes. Yes. Why you thought your death would be quick, I have no idea.”

He glared at Havana. “I told you everything you wanted to know!”

Her face hardened. “You also kidnapped women, men, and children for some fucker to sell them. You didn’t care that pretty much anything could happen to them after they were sold. You showed them no kindness or mercy. So why the fuck should we show any to you?”

And then Bailey’s mamba struck, biting him three times in quick succession.

He cried out, struggling against his binds.

Havana sighed. “This is all on you, Rupert. You really should have made better life choices.” She spun on her heel and faced Corbin. “I’ll clean up whatever mess he makes after he takes his last breath.”

The grizzly waved his hand. “Don’t worry about that, I got it.”

Once Bailey was back in her human form and fully dressed, they left the basement.

“So,” began Bailey, “there’s some guy out there holding auctions where he sells loners. Did I get that right? Is that actually happening?”

“Sounds like it,” said Corbin, planting his fists on his hips. “What is the world goddamn coming to? And how the hell do we find out who’s behind all this?”

Havana rubbed at her chin. “It would be helpful if Sinclair stuck around, but there’s a good chance he’s in the wind. Aspen will let us know soon enough. We need to ID the jaguars, but I don’t see how we can.”

Bailey bit her lower lip. “Someone somewhere has to have heard of these auctions, even if they’re only rumors.”

“I’ll reach out to my allies and contacts,” said Tate. “They might have heard something.”

Havana nodded because, despite that working alongside him wouldn’t be fun, she’d take whatever help she could get. She had a contact from the Movement who she could consult, but she didn’t tell Tate that. “You know what Rupert meant by ‘the family,’ don’t you?”

Tate twisted his mouth. “Possibly. There was a group of half shifters who called themselves that. They were led by a wolf hybrid named Gideon York.”

“I’ve heard of them,” said Corbin. “They’re all dead.”

“Most would agree that you’re right on that,” said Tate. “But some think Gideon is alive.”

“Okay, I haven’t heard of him,” declared Havana. “Who is he?”

Tate folded his arms. “Gideon’s mother was human and his father was a wolf shifter. Gideon didn’t have an easy time in his pack. He couldn’t shift. Many saw him being latent as a weakness, but anyone who hurt him would later suffer in some way. Skinned animals would be dumped in their bedrooms. Their family pets would turn up dead. Their cabins would be set on fire. In one case, a kid got his foot caught in a bear trap that had been taken from the perimeter of pack territory and dumped in his backyard. No one could prove Gideon was responsible, but most believed he was.

“When he turned eighteen, his Alpha asked him to move off of pack territory. He didn’t kick Gideon out of the pack, just asked him to relocate. Fast forward four years, and Gideon began a pack of his own that would welcome any shifter, no matter the breed, so long as they were only half shifter. They called themselves a family, not a pack. They didn’t have pack mates, they had kin. They didn’t have an Alpha, they had a family patriarch—Gideon. And they massacred his pack—including his parents, twelve-year-old brother, and nine-year-old sister. No one was spared.”

“Jesus,” Havana breathed.

“The deceased Alpha’s relatives believed Gideon was to blame, so they went to Gideon’s compound to challenge him,” said Tate. “But the patriarch wouldn’t open the gates, so the pack bypassed the fence and set fire to the compound in the hope of making everyone exit. How the rest plays out often depends on who’s telling the story. The most common version is that Gideon killed his kin and then himself rather than face the wolves. But some believe he murdered the majority of his kin and then escaped with the few he allowed to live.”

“Why would they think that’s a possibility?” asked Havana.

“Because when the fire was put out and the wolves walked through the wreckage, they discovered a bolt hole. The bodies were so badly burned that no one could be sure if Gideon was among the corpses.”

“If he had a bolt hole, why not take everyone with him?”

“Gideon wasn’t really interested in building a ‘family.’ He’d wanted an army that would follow him blindly and aid him in getting revenge on his pack. He’d keep you around while you were of use, but if that changed, he’d eliminate you in an instant. His kin had served their purpose.

“Considering the pack would have hunted him, it would have suited Gideon if people believed he was dead. Some say he went underground; that he now does business via whatever select few people know he’s alive. It’s believed that most of his underlings often don’t even realize who their orders really come from.”

Havana licked the edges of her teeth. “Assuming he is alive, would he be someone who’d auction off loners?”

“I’d say so, yes,” replied Tate. “He hated shifters—not simply because of the trouble he had with his pack, but because he resented them for being able to shift when he couldn’t. It was said that he even detested his inner wolf for never surfacing.”

“Given what he did to his biological family and pack,” Luke began, “I’d say he’d think nothing of trafficking strangers. He was never right in the head. Maybe because of his upbringing, or maybe becausehis wolf never surfaced—that can make a person and their inner animal unstable.

“Given the terminology the jaguars used, I’d say that he’s alive and running this show. Finding him won’t be easy. Some of the wolves who burned down the compound searched for him for years, wanting to be sure he was dead. They never found him.”

“The two jaguars must be his ‘kin,’” said Bailey. “They’ll know where he is. They’re our ticket to finding him.”

“I hope your contacts can help, Tate,” said Havana. “We have to do what we can to stop the next auction before it starts.”

“Why did you ask the cougar where he delivered each of the loners?” Corbin asked her.

“It’s possible that the location of the … auction house, for lack of a better term … is somewhere reasonably close to the drop-off points,” said Havana. “They were all in this city, so it stands to reason that the auction house is also here.”

“In my opinion, Vana, there’s no sense in checking out the abandoned factory where Rupert and his buddy were supposed to dump you,” said Bailey. “There’s no way the jaguars hung around overnight waiting for them.”

“I agree,” said Tate. He looked at Havana. “If there’s a specific reason why each of the loners are selected for auction, someone else may come for you. Be careful. Stay on high alert. Don’t go anywhere alone.”

“I have no plans to make it easy for anyone to grab me,” said Havana.

Tate gave a satisfied nod. “I’ll go make some calls and find out what I can. I’ll pass on whatever I learn.”

Havana inclined her head in thanks. “Appreciate it.”

“I’ll see you out,” Corbin told him.

Tate gave her one last, long look she couldn’t quite decipher. Then he, Luke, and Corbin walked away.

Havana turned to Bailey. “I’m going to call Cesário,” she told her, referring to their ex-boss. “Although I believe Gideon York is behind this, I have to consider that the anti-shifter extremists could be connected to the auction—they would happily traffic shifters. If such a thing has been happening, Cesário will have heard about it.

“While I talk to him, call Dawn at the homeless shelter. Make her aware of the situation so she can warn the loners she’s housing to be careful. Also, give her the names of the loners that Rupert snatched in the past and ask if she’s heard of any of them. I’ll text them to you now.” Havana quickly did so.

“Your message just came through,” said Bailey, tapping the screen of her phone with her thumbs. “If I can’t get through to Dawn, I’ll call one of the volunteers like Madisyn or Makenna. Tell Cessy I said hi.”

Havana sighed. “He hates it when you call him that.”

“I know.” Bailey walked away, putting her cell to her ear.

Havana found her ex-boss’s number in her list of contacts. She’d spoken to him once or twice since she retired. Neither she, Bailey, Aspen, or Camden would have retired so soon if it hadn’t been compulsory.

Some people had originally thought that the Movement would only make matters worse. On the contrary, the group handled the extremists so well that not only had the factions lost a truck load of support from humans, the rate of their attacks had dramatically lowered. Due to that and the work of PR shifter groups, humans and shifters co-existed much more peacefully nowadays. Still, the extremists would never really go away, so there was a chance they were connected to the auctions. Which was why she needed to speak with Cesário.

The phone rang three times before he answered. “Haven’t heard from you in a while, Ramos,” he said, his voice curt and gruff.

She smiled. “Hello to you too, Cesário. I’m well, thanks.”

“Then why’re you bothering me?”

She wasn’t fooled by that put-out tone. He was a big softie deep down where it counted. Deep, deep, deep down. “I just wondered if you’d heard any rumors about anti-shifter extremists selling loners at auction.”

“Extremists? No. But I’ve heard whispers that such auctions occur. Why?”

She told him about good ole Rupert.

“Jesus, Ramos, can you not just live a quiet life? It was kind of the point of you retiring.”

“I felt like spicing things up a little. These auctions could be run by extremists.”

“If so, they’re keeping their connection to the auctions so quiet that even the Movement is unaware of it, which makes it unlikely—we’re on top of their every move.”

“Okay. Tell me about the ‘whispers’ you heard.”

“It’s rumored that someone’s been auctioning off lone shifters every four months for the past year. Some say the auctioneer’s human. Others believe he’s a hybrid. No one wants to believe he’s full shifter, because no one wants to think our own kind would betray us that way. Whoever this person is, they’re as cruel as they come. You know, something similar did happen before with a black bear shifter.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. He was pissed at being shunned by his clan, so he kidnapped a bunch and auctioned them off. He took bids online, and he made a shit-ton of money before his clan tracked him and shut down the operation. They killed the bastard, so you can be sure he hasn’t gone back to his old ways.”

“But someone could have been inspired by it.”

“They could’ve. His clan mates also managed to find the bears he’d sold at auction. I’d like to say the buyers were all extremists, but our intel made it clear that the extremists weren’t even aware of the auctions.”

“Then who were the buyers?”

“Some were humans who wanted shifters as test subjects. One buyer was a human who wanted a child shifter as a pet; they kept him in a fucking cage. A few were shifters, though. One wanted some bears for his illegal fighting pit; another wanted one for their brothel; another wanted a sow as a sex slave.”

She curled her upper lip, disgusted. “So, basically, there are all sorts of shitty reasons why someone would buy another living being at auction. And that means I can’t make any assumptions about who might be bidding on the loners.”

“Is Corbin aware of what’s happening?” Cesário and the grizzly were old friends. Corbin allowed him to check out the rec center for potential recruits because he believed it was good for loners to have a job, direction, and purpose.

“He knows. He sat in on the interrogation. So did my landlord, Tate Devereaux. He’s going to use his contacts to help.”

“Ah, the Olympus Pride’s new Alpha. I’ve heard many things about him—all positive. He and his father are good people to have on your side. That pride will help you get to the bottom of all this shit sooner rather than later.”

“You ever heard of Gideon York?”

“Oh, I’ve heard of him. He was a bad apple if ever there was one. Why?”

“Rupert Merchant said the jaguars talked about ‘the family,’ ‘patriarch,’ and ‘kin.’ We’re thinking Gideon might very well be alive.”

Cesário sighed. “I’d like to think the twisted fuck is dead, but if there was one thing Gideon was good at, it was surviving. Yeah, he could have got out of his compound. And yeah, he could be running these auctions. He used to traffic guns and drugs when at the compound. I can see him easily making the jump to trafficking people.”

Havana nodded. “If you hear any news regarding the auctions, I’d appreciate it if you’d point me in the right direction. I’m not asking you to get involved or throw any manpower my way. I know the Movement’s purpose is to deal with extremists, not wayward shifters. The minute the group starts targeting anyone other than extremists, they become assassins and lose credibility as defenders. I’d never ask you to misuse any of the resources you have. Just let me know if you hear anything.”

“That I can and will definitely do. And you’re right; pursuing our own kind isn’t the purpose of the Movement. I don’t want to have to personally step the fuck in, so you’d better not get dead, Ramos. It will seriously piss me off.”

She felt her lips tip up. “It will piss me off even more.”

He grunted. “Keep me updated.”

“Will do. By the way, Bailey says hi.”

He huffed. “She hasn’t gotten herself killed yet? Now that surprises me.”

“I’ll let her know you miss her.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

Still seething, Tate stalked through the antique store and jogged up the stairs to the apartment above it. He, his parents, and siblings had all lived there at one time. It was now only occupied by Vinnie and Tate’s youngest brother, Damian.

Vinnie’s mother, Ingrid, managed the store. She willfully ignored that her son smuggled money through many of the antiques—something he often did for anti-shifter extremists, who had no clue that Vinnie was a shifter. He then passed on that info to members of the Movement.

As Tate strode into the living room, Vinnie looked up from where he was sitting on the sectional sofa reading something on his phone. The older man frowned. “What dumb fucker put that look on your face?”

“A sick son of a bitch who thinks it’s acceptable to have loners drugged, kidnapped, and then put up for auction,” replied Tate.

Vinnie blinked. “Say that again.”

Instead, Tate explained, “A cougar tried to drug and kidnap Havana last night.” Too restless to sit, he stood in front of the fireplace as he brought his father up to speed. Sitting in the armchair, Luke occasionally tossed in pieces of information.

Puffing out a breath, Vinnie rested his phone on the coffee table. “Jesus.”

“Fucked up, isn’t it? I’ll reach out to our contacts. I’m not optimistic that they’ll know where Gideon is, or if they’ll have any info about the auctions—they’d surely have otherwise put a stop to them.”

Vinnie nodded. “You should give Maddie a call and warn her that the people at the homeless shelter could be in danger, just in case Havana hasn’t yet done so. How long did it take to get the cougar to confess it all?”

“Not long. He was pretty cooperative.”

“How many bones did you need to break before he became so cooperative?”

“None. He was chatty because he wasn’t eager to go through another fifteen hours of horror, apparently.”

Vinnie’s head jerked back. “Who tortured him for fifteen hours?”

“Bailey’s mamba bit him,” said Luke. “And then they all left him to suffer overnight. Havana waltzed into that basement earlier as polite and pleasant as a kindergarten teacher. She didn’t push him to talk. Just gave him the option of answering her questions honestly or being bitten again.”

As Tate had watched her interrogate Rupert, he’d gotten the feeling that it wasn’t her first rodeo. She’d been too steady and confident, too sure of her technique. And she hadn’t had a single measly issue with letting the bastard die hard, as if it wasn’t the first time that she’d had to make such a decision.

“Where’s the cougar now?” asked Vinnie.

“Still in the basement, dying a slow and painful death after Bailey’s mamba bit him three more times. Havana’s orders,” said Tate.

Humor lit Vinnie’s eyes. “Devils are seriously unforgiving, aren’t they?” He studied Tate closely. “I take it you’ll be working with her on this.”

“Of course. She’s my tenant and under my direct protection. Plus, I have an entire building of loners who could be future targets if I don’t get this operation shut down. But I would have involved myself in any case, because this shit’s just plain wrong.”

“Oh, I’m sure it has nothing to do with the none too small fact that you like her a lot more than you’re comfortable with,” Luke mocked.

Tate only narrowed his eyes.

“I suspected your fling with her was over,” Luke added. “But I was hoping I was wrong.”

“Were you now?”

“I like her. I like her for you. If you want my opinion—”

“I don’t; never do.”

“—you should have given a relationship with Havana a chance. Or would your cat have objected? Because if so, you were right to let her go. But if he’d have been interested in exploring something with her, you were dumb not to at least be open to the idea. And if you want to know what I think—”

“I don’t; never do.”

“—she’d have been willing to try a relationship with you. It really is a shame that we’ll never know if it would have worked out between the two of you. You’re thinking this is none of my business, and you’re right. I’ll say no more on the subject. But I’m always gonna think you were a fool to let her go.”

“And I’m always gonna wonder where you got the insane idea that I give a rat’s ass what you think about anything.”

Luke snickered. “Be an asshole all you want—I know you love me. You might have tried to kill me several times when we were kids, but you didn’t actually do it. Remember the night when I was twelve and you shoved a sock in my mouth and then tried to suffocate me with your pillow? It nearly worked, but then you stopped. You let me live. That’s love.”

Tate frowned. “I stopped because you let out a moist-sounding fart that stunk like rotten eggs and almost knocked me sick.”

Luke’s brow furrowed as his gaze turned inward. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”

“And I wouldn’t have tried to kill you that night if you hadn’t tossed my birthday cake out the window like it was a goddamn frisbee.”

“That was an accident.”

Vinnie exhaled heavily and raised his hands. “Let’s cut our trip down memory lane short, shall we, boys?”

Tate grunted and rolled back his shoulders. “Yeah, lets,” he said, pulling out his phone. He had a lot of calls to make and, to his frustration, very little optimism that those calls would gain him the answers he needed.