Page 53 of Red Flag Bull

I stroke my beard, and then pour myself a coffee, too. “Finally found out why Mandi left me.”

Vince stops stirring. He glances at the left side of my chest and then meets my gaze. “Am I allowed to know?”

He never met her. He and the guys stopped me going fucking nuclear when I lost her, but they barely knew more than her name back then, and I haven’t talked about her since, beyond admitting she was the woman I fell for and would never recover from.

“Her parents had people abduct her in the night and sent her to some remote home for rich girls who get knocked up by bad men from the wrong side of town,” I say, failing to keep the seething tone from my voice. “They kept her there. Shamed her. Stole our baby. Gave him to God-knows-whom, to raise. Brainwashed her. Broke her. Drove her to drink and worse.”

Vince spreads his hands on the counter’s surface, and his skin blanches with the pressure he’s using to keep them there. He wants to crack some skulls as badly as I do.

“I don’t need your help with the fun part.” I inform him with a tight smile. “Thank you.” I take a sip of my black brew. “But I will need your help to track down our son. He’ll be grown by now.”

My mind wanders again to what he may look like. Is he good at sports? Is he a good man? A kind man?

I look at the list of names, and then at Vince. “Just get me as much information as you can.”

“I should help you shake down some of these people,” he says. “I’ll ask different questions. Get a better picture to work with, before it’s too late, so he’s not lost forever.”

Damn him for phrasing it in a way I can’t refuse. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.” He’s already scrolling on his phone. “I’ll start finding leverage you can use, to extract the information you need,” he says. “Before you go all… Jason on their asses.”

I scowl. “Don’t use my name like that.”

“Jason?” Mandi calls from upstairs.

Vince folds his arms, leans back, and grins. “Should I use it like that, instead?” He clutches his hands under his chin and bats his lashes at me.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, backing away. “Drink your coffee and start making notes, while I get my woman presentable for company. You can share any on-topic thoughts with us both when we come down.”

20

MANDI

The guy sitting in Jason’s kitchen may be the biggest man I’ve ever seen up close.

Jason rests a hand on my back, and I move forward with him. “Mandi, this is Vince — one of my oldest and dearest friends,” he says in a tone so warm I can’t help but believe the tall, dark, and intimidatingly powerful-looking man helping himself to the contents of Jason’s refrigerator is a giant teddy bear.

“Vince” — Jason gestures to me now — “this is Mandi. My…” He looks at me, his gaze full of love and pride and hope and triumph and gratitude, and he slides his arm further around me, to bring me closer. “My Mandi,” he says, his tone declaring my absolute importance.

“Well, holy shit.” Vince rests his arms over the door of the fridge while he grins at us. “This explains so much.”

Jason shoots him a dirty look. “Don’t be an ass. And quit leaning on my refrigerator door like that. You’ll break it.”

Vince continues to smile, obediently closes the fridge, and comes our way, to extend his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Mandi. Jason has told us so little about you over the years that we knew you had to be special to him.”

My cheeks warm, and I shake his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, too.” I tuck myself back into Jason’s side. “I never really had any close friends, growing up, but I loved hearing Jason talk about his bond with his band of brothers the summer I got to spend with him. Your adventures together always sounded fun and memorable. And you played football together, right?”

Vince’s face lights up and he nods. “I was the muscle.” He puts a huge hand on Jason’s head and ruffles his short bristles, while Jason scowls. “This guy was our head — our brain. His eye for detail and forecasting has always been incredible, and he’s bossy as fuck. There wasn’t a play he couldn’t see from a mile away, and he’d have us rounded up for the counterattack before the other teams had a chance.”

I press my hand to Jason’s chest and gaze up at him. “I believe it.”

His cheeks color a little, and he swipes Vince’s hand away from his head before clearing his throat. “And then we all grew up and did other shit. The end. Can I get you anything before we get to talking investigation options, Princess?”

“Yes please, Mr. King.” Vince snorts and heads back to the fridge. “I’d love some of the creamy-cake thing that some sweet servant boy has put in your fridge to please you. What did you do? Make him cry, and then offer him a chance to redeem himself?” he says, taking out a very fancy-looking chocolate gâteaux with whipped creamed and cherries that looks delightfully familiar.

From the size of Vince’s eyes, it may be the best cake he’s ever seen, and I can’t disagree. I haven’t had a cake like this in years, but it was my favorite when I was younger, and I know Jason’s not a fan, which means he has it in his fridge for me.

I squeeze him in a grateful hug, and he kisses the top of my head. “You’re welcome,” he says.

---