Twenty minutes later, I pull into the parking lot of “Dan’s” and while I don’t find any familiar cars, I’m confident Royce and Blake are present. Reaching across the vehicle, I grab my Walker Security phone from the glove box, and stick it in my pocket, before exiting, and crossing the parking lot. Entering the bar through the back door, I’ve made it all of two steps when Dan, as bulked up and Hulkish as ever, greets me.
“Downstairs,” he says, motioning toward a stairwell between us, his graying dark hair aging him to forty when he’s actually in his thirties like me. “I’ll lock the back and watch the front.”
“Thanks man,” I say, stopping toe-to-toe with him, shaking his hand, our grips strong, as was our bond for five years in the same Texas field office. “Come to work for Walker Security and you’ll get paid for shit like this.”
“You’ve been home a month, and said that at least six times. You know my answer. I’m retired.”
I press my hands to my hips. “Thirty-four is too damn young to retire.”
“It’s also too damn young for a lot of things,” he says softly, referencing the cascade of blood that’s been his life, far more than it has mine.
“That’s why we stick together.”
“That’s why I’m getting the damn door and you’re going downstairs.”
I rub my jaw, a light stubble forming, and he steps around me, successfully shutting me down once again. “I’ll keep asking,” I say, heading down the steps and entering the concrete cellar that is wrapped in wine-filled wooden shelves. In the center is a long wooden table, with Royce on one end and Blake on the other, with Kara by his side.
“Anything on Myla?” Kara asks, shooting to her feet the moment she sees me.
“Nothing,” I say, stopping at the side of the table, hands on the back of a brown leather chair, “and that’s exactly why I didn’t want you involved. There may never be anything, Kara.”
“She knows,” Blake snaps, standing, while Royce does the same, both brothers big and broad, their long hair tied at the nape, but Royce is bigger, his features harder, his attitude all about control while Blake’s is all about daring.
“I do know,” Kara adds, hugging herself as she had back at the bathroom. “I know, but I have to try to find her.”
“What do you think Royce and I are trying to do?” I look at Blake. “No one knows more than you how dangerous being too close to something can be. How can you want her here?”
“I don’t fucking want her to be here,” he snaps. “She came on her own. We were in Sonoma for the Chris Merit wedding, and she disappeared. I chartered a plane and got here just in time to catch her as she was following you to the meeting.”
“And yet you didn’t fucking stop her.”
“Stop saying FUCK!” Kara shouts. “Stop. I hate the way you always say fuck, Blake. And fuck you! This is my sister. You knew they were doing this and you didn’t tell me. I found your notes. You kept this a secret from me.”
“I was waiting to see what they found out before I got your hopes up,” Blake states. “I didn’t want you to feel everything you’re feeling right now.”
“You don’t get to decide what I feel or don’t feel. You just get to be there to help me deal with it. Do you understand?”
Blake turns her to face him, his hands on her hips. “We’ve talked about this. We’re both too close to this case to be objective. We’re both known by the Alvarez inner circle. I trust my brother and I trust Kyle. Let’s let them handle this.”
“I don’t want to let them handle this,” she hisses.
“If Myla is alive,” he says, “one wrong move and she could be dead. Think about it, Kara.”
They exchange some sort of silent communication, the air crackling around them, before she says, “I need to control this.”
“I know,” Blake says softly, “but you can’t. I have a lead on the Ella Ferguson case. Let’s get on a plane and go to Italy where I think she may be. We’ll find her while they find your sister. Distance will help you in ways you can’t understand now.”
“You have a lead on Ella?”
“I do and it’s solid. Let’s go be the ones who find her, while Kyle and Royce try to find Myla.”
He cups the back of her head, their foreheads coming together, while Royce motions me toward the stairs, and we quickly leave them alone. I’ve only just made it to the top of the landing when my phone rings, and I glance down, then up at Royce. “Juan. I told him I wanted to meet the person I’m guarding before I take the job.”
“A call this soon has to be a good sign.”
“Kyle,” is how I answer.
“That meeting you wanted is on. Back at the Ritz. Come prepared to take over tonight.”
“I haven’t agreed to take the job.”
“Be that as it may,” he says. “That decision happens tonight, and you need to be ready to stay the night.”