Page 141 of The Wildest One
I glanced around the bar, the part of the dining room I could see from here, the open kitchen, where there was no sign of my brother. “Place looks incredible.”
“Doesn’t it?” Eden said. “We were down to the wire. Hart almost murdered the contractor. But it all pulled together, and everyone is still alive, and our guests won’t notice the small imperfections that the contractor’s crew will fix tonight once the restaurant closes to the public.”
“Jesus,” I groaned. “It was like that?”
The anger flashed across Hart’s face before his girl, Sadie, joined him. “You have no idea,” he said.
Sadie leaned across the space in which we were standing, and we kissed cheeks. “So happy you could make it, Beck.”
“Good to see you, Sadie.” I took another look around the restaurant. “Guys, where’s Walker?”
They all took deep breaths and stared at each other and eventually at me.
“He’s … not here,” Colson said.
“What the fuck do you mean, he’s not here?” I pressed.
Eden grabbed my arm, her eyes giving me a warning. “We have a lot to tell you.”
“Then tell me.”
Hart shook his head. “Not here, Beck. Not now.”
What the fuck does that mean?
Jolie and Ginger, holding hands with Ellie, joined our circle, my girl sipping on a drink as she moved in next to me.
I kissed the side of her head, and while I listened to my family speak to her—a group who adored her—my mind was on Walker.
This restaurant, like all the others we owned, was my brother’s baby.
His love.
So, why the fuck wasn’t he here?
THIRTY-SIX
Jolie
“Ilike the quiet before the storm.”
That was the way Beck had once described the arena. When almost all the lights were out and the employees were gone and silence filled the large, echoing space. Now that the situations were similar—everyone had left for the night and I was the last person in the building—I understood exactly what he’d meant. Only the spotlight above the rink was on, the scoreboards black, the stands empty, making Beck’s description resonate even more.
After spending countless hours here, week after week, I had learned there was something special about the silence. The quietness spoke to me; it hummed inside my stomach. It gave me little bolts of excitement as my brain spiraled, thinking about the loudness of tomorrow’s game.
We were going to play Boston. I was in knots about it.
Since it was my home team against my new home team, I’d spent some extra time editing. I’d studied the numbers. I’d reviewed our preparations for the game. And when my eyes felt like they couldn’t look at my computer screen for anothersecond, I locked my office door, and I took the elevator to the first floor.
With my keys in my hand, I approached the exit that would dump me out at the employee lot. But I stayed right there, in front of the glass, completely still. I didn’t even raise the fob to the reader.
Because I heard a noise.
And it was … the sound of skates slicing through fresh ice.
Someone’s here?
But in order for them to be here, they would have to get through security and have their own set of keys.
