Page 23 of Hell of a Mess
“Jayda brought it to the office already. Bane is there, along with Mal, Oz, and Fender,” he replied.
I glanced over at the nearest clock and frowned. “What the fuck is wrong with the lot of you? It’s not even nine yet?”
“We believe we have Lace’s identity.” He told me the one thing that could get my mind off the bacon and coffee.
My hand fell from Maui’s head, and I made my way toward Linc, who turned and headed down the hallway. Hebelieved, meaning he had no actual proof.
Why was half of the damn family in his office already this morning? That didn’t bode well.
My entire body tensed as I followed him.
Who was she? Or who did Linc think she was? If he was going to hand her over, then he’d have a fight. Because whoever she was, someone had beaten her, and that shit wasn’t happening again.
Maui started to go with me.
“No,” I told him and pointed toward the kitchen. “Go find Jayda.”
His expression lit up as if it was a game, he took off in that direction, leaving me to go deal with whatever Linc thought he might have found out about Lace.
By the time I reached the office door, he’d already gone inside and left it standing open for me. Stepping into the room, Iscanned it to see Bane on the far-left sofa with his right ankle propped on his left knee and a large mug resting on his calf. Seemed that fucker already had coffee.
Jesus, how long had they been here?
His father, Fender, sat opposite him, almost in the exact same position—and I doubted they realized it.
I smirked and walked over to the serving cart that had a stainless-steel chafer urn, which I knew held the liquid I needed, and an array of muffins, toast, and an empty plate, which I would bet had once held the bacon.
Dammit. Couldn’t they all eat at their own homes?
Oz was standing in front of the cart, refilling his mug with coffee. He had better have left me some.
“Glad you could get out of bed and join us,” Mal Bowen said from where I’d glanced at him sitting in a high-back leather chair.
“That makes one of us,” I replied and snatched up a mug as Oz moved out of my way.
“When are you ever going to start acting your age and not like you’re still in your fucking thirties?” Again from Mal.
I finished filling my mug, then picked up a blueberry muffin before turning around and acknowledging his smart-ass remark. “When I look like I’m not in my thirties,” I replied, then took a bite.
He chuckled and shook his head. “You don’t look like you’re in your thirties now.”
Like hell I didn’t. Bastard.
“Don’t start, you two,” Fender interrupted. “We have business to handle.”
While Fender didn’t necessarily look his age either, he acted like a damn grandpa. Well, he was a grandpa. So was I, but that wasn’t our fault. Our sons couldn’t stop shooting loads into cunts. But, damn, I did love Kye’s kid. Looked just like his daddyat that age. And kept his momma on her toes.
I still didn’t let him call me Grandpa. That shit wasn’t ever going to happen. He called me Tiger because of the tattoo I had on my back. I hadn’t taught him to call me that. I was okay with him using my name, but he saw it when we were swimming, and he’d just been learning to talk at the time. He’d started pointing at me whenever he saw me after that and saying “Tiger”. It had stuck.
“Thaddeus is going to call me back at any minute. We need to brief you before he does,” Linc said, looking at me.
I paused from lifting my cup to my mouth. “Thaddeus? Davidson?” I asked, confused as to why the hell the head of the Louisiana branch was going to call. How did this involve them?
“What other Thaddeus would it be?” Linc asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“Is that why there isn’t a Carver here? Still too soon?” I asked, then took a sip of my coffee.
Thaddeus’s son, Wayon, had stalked Than Carver’s woman before she was his woman. It had been a shit show that needed cleaning up. Wayon was a crazy son of a bitch, but I liked him. Ransom, however, would be good if he never saw him again.
