Alibi by Nicole Edwards

Chapter Fifteen

Saturday, February 20, 2021

Brantley woke on Saturday morning with amigraine hangover.

While he hated the feeling, he would take it over the actual headache any day. And last night’s had been brutal. It had hit him midafternoon and lasted well into the night.

Although he rarely tried to tie the headache back to a trigger since they seemed random and indiscriminate in their assault, he wanted to believe this one was brought on by the stress of the past week. The winter storm that had all but leveled central Texas had been brutal, leaving a mess in its wake.

There were still large portions of the area without power and water, and while they’d lost both for a short time, it appeared they were up and running despite the boil notice in effect.

Of course, the storm had completely derailed their investigation, mainly because it had shut down the town and the neighboring cities. Having been forced to lock down, they hadn’t been able to actively search for Juliet. The Sniper 1 Security team had been impacted, the storm taking a bite out of the Dallas area as well.

Now that it was over, he hoped they could get back on track, because while they hadn’t found her, Brantley had thought they were making progress. Thanks to JJ and Luca’s combined efforts, they’d made a connection between Juliet and a computer programmer by the name of Samuel Aldering. It wasn’t a huge breakthrough, but they were able to track him down and learned Juliet had had an affair with the man, something good ol’ Sammy wasn’t proud of, obviously. And thanks to some blackmail on Juliet’s part, Sam had helped her to hack into a few camera feeds and a phone.

The information wouldn’t necessarily lead to them finding her now, but it did fill in some of the holes and answered a few questions.

“You awake?”

Brantley rolled over toward the sound of Reese’s voice. He offered a small smile as an answer.

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Like I was run over by a truck. The headache’s gone, at least.” But that meant he would be moving slowly, his body’s natural response as it tried to avoid doing something that might bring the pain back.

Reese took a seat on the edge of the bed on the opposite side.

“And everything else? Texas no longer at a standstill?” Brantley prompted.

“They’re openin’ most everything. Said the roads are clearin’ but it’ll take a couple of days over freezing to get rid of all the ice.”

At least there was an end in sight.

“You up for some breakfast?”

Brantley grinned. “I thought you’d never ask. Eggs, bacon, pancakes?” he asked hopefully.

Reese chuckled. “The works, huh?”

“Yep.”

“All right.” Reese stood. “Why don’t you grab a shower now that the water’s back on. I’ll start cookin’.”

Twenty minutes later, Brantley joined Reese in the kitchen. The bacon was in the oven, scrambled eggs piled high on a plate, and Reese was flipping a pancake at the stove.

“Coffee’s made.”

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” he said as he grabbed a mug and headed for the coffee maker.

“You can love me all day long, but you’re still doin’ the dishes,” Reese retorted.

“My pleasure,” he said at the same time his phone rang. He took a sip of his coffee and hit the button to answer the call, immediately changing it to speaker. “Walker.”

“I don’t wanna get your hopes up, but there’s a good chance we know where she is,” Z said, his tone a bit urgent although it was obvious he was attempting to hold back.

Setting the mug on the counter, Brantley stared down at the phone. “Where?”

“It’s not one-hundred-percent vetted, but it’s the second tip we’ve received in a few hours, so I think there’s reason to be optimistic.”

“Where, Z?” he demanded.

“I’ll tell you under one condition.”

Brantley could feel his face heat, his frustration growing.

“You and Reese have to stay put until RT gives you the go-ahead.”

“That’s not the deal,” he argued, realizing too late that he wasn’t going to get the information.

“Look. I get that you and my brother are renegades and you’re ready to beat feet if there’s even a remote possibility you’ll find this woman, but we have to be careful in how we handle this.”

“I know you mean well,” he said, his voice low, anger palpable, “but I don’t need anyone tellin’ me how to do my job, Z. I’ve been on missions far more sensitive than this.”

“And what’d you do before you went on those missions?” Z countered, his irritation evident.

Brantley’s anger cooled almost instantly. “Touché.”

“It’s all in the planning and recon. You know that.” Z exhaled slowly. “The objective is to capture her, is it not?”

Capture or kill. Brantley didn’t really give a shit what happened to her. Rather than tell Z he was having homicidal thoughts, he said, “Of course.”

“Then our best bet is to chill until we can get eyes on her. RT’s sendin’ a couple of agents down for some recon. And no, before you try to nail me to the wall, he’s not takin’ over. He’s doin’ his due diligence. When the time comes, he’s agreed to let you go in and get her.”

Brantley didn’t bother to tell him the same agreement had already been made between him and Travis. Some things were better left unspoken.

“Where’s she at, Z?” he asked again.

“I’ve changed my mind. I think it’s best I sit on this for the time being. Like I said, if it’s vetted, you’ll be the first to know.”

Before Brantley could lose his shit, Z disconnected the call. It took effort not to throw the damn thing through the plate-glass window. Instead, he planted his hands on the counter and focused on breathing.

“If it’s valid, he’ll give us the information,” Reese said, sounding far too reasonable.

Brantley bit back the retort. It wouldn’t do any good to pick a fight with Reese.

“I’m just glad there’s a good chance we’ll end this soon,” Reese added.

“You think we should tell Travis?” Brantley picked up his coffee, forced his shoulders to unknot.

Reese turned around, holding the plate of pancakes. “No. He knows we’re lookin’. Once we have a definite, we’ll loop him in.”

Christ Almighty. Why did he have to be so fucking rational?

“Keep it up and your headache’ll come back.”

Brantley glared at Reese but walked around to the other side of the island. He took another sip, sat on a stool, and shifted his head side to side.

“You’re right. We’ll sit on it until we know for sure.”

Reese placed the pancakes beside the plate of eggs then retrieved the bacon from the oven. Once it was all set out, he handed Brantley an empty plate, took one for himself.

“There’s somethin’ else you should probably know about,” Reese said, his tone hesitant.

Brantley lifted his head. Slowly.

Reese was looking down at the counter, rather than meeting his gaze.

Tension knotted Brantley’s shoulders. He already knew he was not going to like whatever it was.

“Spit it out, Tavoularis.”

“Travis has been in touch with Max Adorite.”

Brantley schooled his expression. “About?”

Reese looked up, cocked his head, and gave him the look that said, Think about it, dummy.

Brantley knew plenty about Maximillian Adorite, infamous for his role as the head of the Southern Boy Mafia. He’d done a significant amount of research on the man and his organization, learning everything he could. Admittedly, his initial interest hadn’t been because of the organized crime family’s business dealings. No, Brantley had been curious about Madison Adorite, the woman Reese had been almost engaged to. He’d actually learned very little about the woman but more than he cared to about the family.

“Max has done some favors for Travis in the past,” Reese said.

“I’m sure I don’t want to know what those favors are.”

“Probably not. Nor do I.”

“Bein’ that he’s a mob boss, I’m sure Max Adorite calls in favors, too, does he not?”

“Of course. And I’m sure Travis has paid out a few of his own over the years. But they’re close. Closer than most people probably realize.”

As close as you and Madison were?Brantley didn’t voice the question, but he knew it would ping around in his head for a while after this conversation was over.

“I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that there’s a good chance Juliet Prince’ll never be found.”

Brantley narrowed his eyes on Reese. “Are you tellin’ me she’s dead?”

Reese quickly shook his head. “No. I think we’ll get eyes on her at some point. I just don’t think there’ll be anything left when we move in.”

“So what you’re tellin’ me is Travis is gonna need that alibi he mentioned? To keep him in the clear.”

Reese’s expression turned serious. “I think there’s a good chance we all will.”

Later that afternoon, Brantley slipped out, using the excuse that he was stopping by his parents’ house to check in.

Granted, he did that because he couldn’t bear to lie to Reese, but once that was done, he headed for Alluring Indulgence Resort. As had been the case the last couple of times he’d stopped by there, Brantley was greeted with friendly waves and greetings. He figured they were getting used to seeing him, which got him thinking about how many times he’d been there, but never once had it been by invitation.

Rather than go straight to Travis’s office, which was his ultimate destination, he made a couple of stops, talking with Kaleb and Sawyer, checking to see how they’d fared through the storm. He considered chatting with Gage, but when he stopped by the small office the man had commandeered as his own, he found it empty.

That left him with no more excuses to put off seeing the man of the hour.

When he knocked on Travis’s door, he was met with a less-than-friendly, “What do you want?”

Opening the door, he stepped inside. It would’ve been easy to ask Travis if he had a minute, but Brantley didn’t care whether he did or not. As far as he was concerned, Travis was going to make time to talk, because this particular topic couldn’t be put off.

Instantly he felt shitty for not giving Travis advance notice of his arrival. The pure hope that radiated from the man made his stomach hurt.

“No news yet,” he prefaced. “I just came to talk about somethin’ I heard this mornin’.”

Travis’s face fell as he leaned back in his chair and regarded Brantley with what looked a lot like disappointment.

When his cousin didn’t suggest he sit, Brantley did so anyway.

“Rumor has it you’re talkin’ to Max Adorite.”

Travis’s expression remained passive. “Max and I are friends. Why?”

Brantley chose his words carefully. “You and I both know what Max does for a livin’.”

There was no comment.

“And I figure it’s safe to assume one of his specialties might come in handy at a time like this.”

Still nothing.

“Travis…” Brantley exhaled. “I’ll be straight with you. I know you’d like to see that bitch in the ground—”

“That’s where she belongs,” Travis snapped, leaning forward and slamming his palms on the desk.

“I don’t disagree with you.” He kept his eyes locked with Travis’s. “Keep in mind, there are a lot of eyes on this right now. Not only local law enforcement but also the feds. Not to mention the media.”

“What do you want from me, Brantley?” Travis’s eyes narrowed. “It’s been forty-two days since my wife was murdered. Forty-two days that you and your team have been searchin’ for the woman responsible. That’s forty-two days longer than I care for.”

Brantley knew there was nothing he could say to that. It was true. They’d been working day and night—for far longer than forty-two days—utilizing all the tools they had to find the woman. As much as he would’ve preferred Juliet Prince be an idiot, she was proving to have some skills. At the very least, a very strong survival instinct.

“It’s time we finish this,” Travis continued. “Once and for all.”

It was obvious Travis wasn’t referring to having the woman arrested and spending God only knows how long waiting for her to be found guilty by a jury of her peers. And because it was hanging in the tension-filled air, Brantley decided to broach it as straightforward as he knew how.

“I get it,” he said softly. “I really do. No, I haven’t lost a spouse, but I have lost people I was close to. The rage, once it kicks in, it burns hot. And trust me when I tell you, I’d be thinkin’ the same thing if I lost Reese.”

Travis’s eyes narrowed slightly, almost imperceptibly. As though he’d been gearing up to argue but changed his mind.

“I haven’t been with him for seven years or even seven months, but I love him. Hell, I’d give my life for his. So we’re on the same page there. What we’re not on the same page with is how you go about this.”

To his surprise, Travis didn’t speak.

“You mentioned needin’ an alibi before. You and I both know you weren’t blowin’ smoke up my ass. What I need is for you to remember you have a husband and five kids at home, Travis. Five. They’re already sufferin’ enough. Don’t make it worse.”

“Then I suggest you find her.”

“I intend to,” he bit out, getting to his feet. “And when I do, you’ll be able to tell your children she got what she deserved. Just stay out of it. Take care of the ones who need you most right now. Let us deal with this.”

Brantley didn’t wait for a retort, knowing he wouldn’t like whatever Travis had to say. He’d said his piece.

Now it was time he did something to prove to Travis he could be trusted to take care of shit.

*

After Brantley left, Travis could hear conversationstaking place in the hall outside his office. He wasn’t sure if it was his cousin chatting with others or if it was merely business taking place. It didn’t matter to him either way, so he didn’t bother to get up to see if they needed his help. Rather, he remained in his chair, staring out the window overlooking the outdoor space still glittering with ice as he tried to figure out what he’d ever found appealing about this place.

Alluring Indulgence Resort had been his baby. He could still remember back in the planning phase, before the enormous structure ever got off the ground. He remembered conversations with the city council, the mayor, and the residents whose land was adjacent to where he wanted to build. It had been exciting back then, an endeavor unlike anything he’d ever done before.

He honestly expected he would always be in love with it, find comfort within the walls. Over the years, he’d opened it up for family gatherings, utilizing the space to accommodate all who wanted to come. And yes, he’d made a lot of money from the idea and had invested just as much.

For what?

What the fuck had he accomplished by creating a fetish resort? Hell, if he had to guess, he’d ruined more lives than not. All those people who’d come here seeking an experience they couldn’t find anywhere else. Did they go home satisfied? If so, how long had it lasted? Was there a long list of disgruntled spouses who wished Travis and his family dead?

He swallowed down the emotion that still lodged in his throat when he thought about his beautiful Kylie.

Turning in his chair, he stared at the picture of her on his desk.

“I miss you, baby,” he whispered, the same as he did every single day. He prayed to a God he wasn’t on good terms with, willing him to take care of her now. Everyone knew Travis had failed in doing so.

A knock on his door dragged his attention from the photograph. “Yeah. Come in.”

The door opened and Gage strolled in.

Travis immediately sat up straight, surprised to see him.

“Kaleb needs those forms signed.”

No greeting, no smile, just right to the point. Exactly as things had been for the past month, more so since he’d revealed that letter Kylie had left for them.

Travis pushed the pile of papers in Gage’s direction. “Anything else?”

There was fire in Gage’s brown eyes when he met Travis’s gaze. “No.”

Nodding because he knew it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good to pick a fight, Travis leaned back and waited for Gage to leave. If the past few weeks were anything to go by, he wouldn’t be sticking around to strike up a conversation. Hell, they hadn’t said more than ten words at a time to one another since they buried their wife. Unless, of course, it pertained to the kids, but even those conversations were light on words.

Oh, but they’d done some silent communicating. Sex had become Gage’s go-to topic. Every time Travis turned around, there his husband was, eager and ready for some down and dirty, angry sex. Of course, Travis hadn’t bothered to tell Gage he didn’t appreciate being used. Hell no. Why would he go and do something stupid like that? And risk Gage turning his back on him for good?

No, these days, Travis found himself waiting around, almost desperate for that little bit of physical contact because it was the only time he felt even remotely human. The rest of the time, he was simply going through the motions, feeling empty, bitter, and cold.

Just as he predicted, Gage turned and strolled back to the door, those fucking forms in hand. When he reached it, he paused for a second, glancing back over his shoulder. “You need to go by your parents’ after work. Pick up Maddox.”

“Will do,” he replied, just as he did every other time Gage issued an order.

Gage nodded, then disappeared.

When he was alone once again, Travis glanced at Kylie’s photograph, and not for the first time, he wished she was here to take care of Gage and the kids. They deserved that. They deserved her.

Instead, they were stuck with him and he was doing a shitty job.

Two hours later, Travis was pulling into his parents’ driveway. All the lights were on in their two-story farmhouse with its wraparound porch, but there were no extra vehicles parked nearby. Being that it was Saturday, he had expected at least one of his brothers to be there, probably with a kid or two in tow.

Instead, he found his father sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch, coat and boots on, an insulated travel mug on the little square table beside him, steam coming out of the lid.

“Hey, Pop. You come outside for some peace and quiet? Or just to freeze your ass off?”

Curtis smiled, continuing to rock in his chair. “Your mama kicked me out. She insisted I was the reason Mad won’t eat his peas. Said every time he looked at me, he’d spit ’em out.”

“That true?”

His father chuckled. “Maybe.” Another laugh followed, this one a bit louder. “He thinks it’s a game.”

Of course he did. Travis knew his father enjoyed getting the munchkins riled up from time to time. He claimed it was a grandfather’s right.

“Have a seat,” Curtis instructed.

“I can’t stay.”

His father looked up, met his gaze. “Have a seat,” he said more firmly.

Travis found it interesting that he was forty-two years old—a grown man for quite some time—yet when his father told him to do something, it was like he was ten all over again.

With a resigned sigh, he lowered himself into the other chair and relaxed almost instantly. Not because he was comfortable but because he knew he had a slight reprieve. Although he loved his kids more than life itself, he dreaded going home these days. He didn’t want to be anywhere else, but he hated the tension that seemed to follow him. It was affecting everyone.

“How’re things at work?”

“Fine.”

His father continued to rock in his chair and Travis waited patiently for him to get to what he wanted to chat about. Clearly something was on his mind.

“How’re things at home?”

That question wasn’t so easy to answer. “As good as can be expected.”

“I saw the pictures of the snowman.”

Travis nodded, stared out into the twilight. “Snowmommy.”

Curtis peered over at him. “What now?”

“Kate called it a snowmommy. She dressed it up in Kylie’s things.”

He could feel his father’s eyes on him, but Travis didn’t look over. It wasn’t like he could explain her reasoning for wanting it.

Silence descended for a minute or two as Travis stared out at the yard, the big oak tree. Nothing was nearly as vibrant as it had once been, even if it still looked the same. Well, mostly. The snow that remained beneath the tree wasn’t something he was used to seeing, but he’d gotten an eyeful this past week. Enough to last him another four decades if he was lucky.

“I talked to Reese again today,” Curtis finally relayed.

He looked over, his chest suddenly devoid of air. “I’m sorry, what? What do you mean again?”

“He’s been keepin’ me updated on the investigation.”

Travis leaned forward, prepared to get to his feet, but stopped when his father barked for him to sit his ass down.

“Pop, I don’t have time for this. I don’t wanna hear about Reese or Brantley or whatever—”

“They think they’ve received a valid tip.”

Clearly he’d been wrong about not having air in his lungs, because that statement sent it out of him in a mad rush. Considering Brantley had been in his fucking office just a few hours ago and hadn’t said a damn thing about it…

“Where is she?” he asked when his head stopped spinning.

“They haven’t been told yet. His brother’s apparently keepin’ it close to the vest until they’ve vetted it.” Curtis peered over. “My guess is they don’t trust Brantley not to go after her.”

They didn’t trust Brantley? Or they didn’t trust Travis?

“Why’d Reese share this with you and not me?”

“He calls me every coupla days, fills me in. Most of the time it’s nothin’, but he seems upbeat about this one. Said it’s worth pursuin’.”

Travis had more questions—like when were they going to get confirmation?—but he couldn’t force words past the lump in his throat.

“I think he uses it as an excuse to check up on you and Gage, see how y’all are doin’.”

Reese could’ve called him if he really wanted to know. Then again, Brantley and Reese weren’t high on Travis’s list of people he cared to talk to these days. The conversations they did have were necessary, nothing more.

His father looked at him, those blue-gray eyes wary. “I know you wanna blame those boys for what happened, but we both know it ain’t their fault.”

Rationally Travis knew that, sure. But he wasn’t doing a lot of rational thinking as of late. And it was just easier to lay blame than it was to figure out what his next move should be. He had honestly thought offering a reward would work. He’d thought for sure someone knew exactly where Juliet Prince was and the enticement of money would have them reporting it. That hadn’t been the case.

“Does Gage know about this new lead?”

He watched his father, seeing the answer long before the words came out.

“You kept him in the loop but not me?”

Curtis started rocking in the chair again, his gaze sliding out over the yard. “He asked me about it. I didn’t offer.”

“But he’s known what’s been goin’ on?”

Clearly his father thought that rhetorical because he didn’t respond.

Travis stared out into the yard, the sky already dimming as night descended.

“They won’t stop until they find her,” Curtis finally told him.

He didn’t reply immediately, choosing his words carefully. When he did, he kept his voice low, even. “I don’t want her in prison, Pop. I want her in the fuckin’ ground. I don’t even care if she’s breathin’ when she goes in, I’ll shovel the dirt myself.”

Based on Curtis’s expression, that wasn’t as much of a shock to his father as he’d thought it would be.

“You and me both, son.”