Page 45 of Angel's Share

“Doesn’t look like he’s here with good news for Martino either,” Rick said.

“If I had to bet money,” Aidan speculated, “I’d guess it’s a message from Russo.”

As the rock star towered over Martino, in his face about something, Jamie had to agree with their assessments. “Matt, you know anything more?” Jamie asked, recalling some nonverbal sparks flying between him and Ryan the last time they’d run into him. Bedroom eyes, Marsh had teased.

There was nothing funny, however, about Matt’s tone when he reentered the conversation, his timbre low and strained. “What the fuck is he doing here?” His gruff question was followed by his comm disconnecting, then Rick’s “Matt, where are you going?”

“Berat,” Aidan said, “Be ready to intercept if he’s headed your way.”

“I don’t think he’ll do that,” Rick said. “Not in his interest.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You remember the guy last night, at the bar?”

“Matt’s brother,” Jamie said.

“Yeah, that was him. He’s in the band with Ryan.”

Another detail clicked. “That’s why the place was called Remedy.”

“Vice versa, but not the point. Matt’s . . . protective . . . of his brother.”

“The rock star?” Aidan said.

And another detail registered for Jamie, but not knowing how much of his personal life Matt had or wanted disclosed, he signaled Aidan to go off comms.

“What do you know?” Aidan asked, immediately catching on.

“Matt and Cam worked together in Boston because they had something in common. His sibling was missing too for some time, and while he came back, he wasn’t the same. Matt’s been trying for years to reconnect with him. Probably part of the reason he moved out west, then up to LA.”

“And he doesn’t want Ryan to fuck that up.”

“That’d be my guess.” And maybe they had in fact all misread Matt’s reaction to Ryan this past summer. Jamie scratched a mental note to apologize, then clicked his comm back on when Aidan did.

“Update, Berat?” Aidan requested.

“No sign of Matt down here,” the detective reported.

“And looks like Ryan is leaving Martino’s suite,” Jamie said, watching on his phone screen as the rock star stormed out of the suite.

“Whatever was said,” Aidan remarked, “Martino’s going about business as usual.” Proven as he guzzled the rest of his beer, plastered on a smile, and greeted the next visitor who entered the suite. “Does this guy even need to get rid of Russo?” Aidan said. “Seems like he’s got plenty of business and connections.”

“We’re still missing something,” Jamie said. “A connection.”

“Ryan?”

“I don’t think that’s it. He’s just a messenger. And consistent with everything else we’ve seen tonight already.”

But the visitor who entered the suite next was not. He looked like an average guy just off the street, a little younger than Jamie, about Aidan’s height, his blond hair windswept, his cheeks rosy, his jeans and sweatshirt fan appropriate. But the way Martino greeted him was warmer than he’d greeted anyone else that night. A tight embrace, a kiss on the cheek, an arm slung over his shoulders as they cheered on the face-off at the start of the third period.

“Something’s different about this one,” Aidan likewise detected.

“Do we have a match on facial?” Jamie asked Rick, something about this latest visitor also familiar.

“Not registering on facial,” Rick said.

“I’ll get on the horn with ticketing,” Matt said, sounding out of breath but back on the comms with them. “See if we can trace the ticket that got him in.”

---