Page 56 of Faded Gray Lines
“And you’ll live long enough to earn more, provided you deliver what I need tonight.”
I made no move to restrain him. Although I locked the door, I didn’t engage the child lock. He could easily unlock it from his side. The whole thing was a display of dominance. A warning in case he forgot who he was dealing with.
“I’ll call you later,” he finally mumbled.
I smiled, unlocking the door for him. “You do that.”
He jumped out and sprinted toward Rice University, his shoulders hunched and his head down. He was pissed, but he’d do exactly as I asked.
Nothing motivated a man more than a well-timed threat against his family.
I pressed my foot on the break and reached for the gear shift to back out of the alley when my phone rang. I picked it up, hoping my informant had the identity of the other number for me, but my screen was dark.
What the hell?
The ringing continued, and I followed the sound to the passenger’s side where that fucking trench coat Leighton had on last night lay on the floorboard. Just the memory of her wearing that asshole’s coat put me in a worse mood than I was already in, so when the next thought crossed my mind, I saw red.
If she gave that motherfucker her number, I’m going to put a bullet in his head.
Grabbing it off the floor, I tore through the pockets, answering the call with rage. “What the hell do you want?”
“For starters, I’d like to know why you’re answering my sister’s phone?”
Shit. Brody.
“Hey, man.”
“Don’t you fucking, ‘hey, man’ me,” he warned. “This makes twice she hasn’t come home, Cortes. I want to know what’s going on.”
I didn’t have time for this. True, out of respect, Brody deserved an explanation. However, it was a conversation that’d have to wait. There was no way I’d make it back by three o’clock.
“I need you go to the townhouse and pick up Leighton. She has to be at the cantina at three, and I’m not going to make it back to take her.”
“Why? She has a car.”
Here’s where Brody loses his shit.
“It’s still at Caliente. I picked her up last night.”
Literally.
“Why the hell would you pick my sister up from work when she has a drivable car that could’ve gotten her home just—”
“Brody...”
“Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. Tell me you didn’t...that she didn’t...that you two didn’t—”
“Thanks, man. I owe you one.” Before he could say another word, I hung up. I half expected him to call back, but to his credit, the phone stayed silent. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing, or if it just gave him more time to plan my murder.
As I tossed the phone onto the passenger’s seat, my gaze fell on the damn trench coat again. I couldn’t stand looking at it anymore, so I rolled down the window and just as I drew my arm back to chuck it out of the car, a piece of paper fell out of one of the pockets. Picking it up, I read the words printed on the front.
You Are Cordially Invited to a Fundraiser for Mayor Lilith Donovan
Questions flew through my mind, none of which had any answers. Why the hell did the guy who hit on Leighton have an invitation to her mother’s campaign party? I hated questioning her, especially after last night, but I’d learned never to underestimate anyone for any reason. Especially when the heart was involved.
Picking up Leighton’s phone again, I scrolled through her call history. Besides Brody’s, there were two other number she’d called lately—one of them looked familiar, so I called it.
Before the first ring even completed, a man answered, his voice impatient. “What do you have for me?”
