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“That damn brush is in my duffel because I had intended to spend last night at her place until all hell broke loose.”

Brock was speaking but it was clear he was talking to Clint or someone he worked with at Otero-Silva Investigations. I took in a deep breath, and almost missed what Brock said.

“Wait. What did you just ask Clint?”

“Gabe. I don’t think—”

“Tell me what you said, Brock,” I growled.

“I asked him if he knew when Asher Craddick got out on bail.”

“Fuck,” I yelled.

“God damn, Gabe. What is your problem, yelling in my ear. You knew she had an issue with that asshole.”

With the hand not holding my phone I made a fist and punched toward the wall but pulled it at the last minute. “Brock, I knew his first name was Asher. I had no fuckin’ idea his last name was Craddick. Hell, how do you know his last fuckin’ name?”

Brock hesitated, and I made a noise prompting him to talk. “The case I’ve been working with Clint and others, we’re investigating Club Eclectic. When Craddick went in for a job and got it last week, Clint told me.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me,” I shouted.

“You’re working at the club too, I couldn’t tell you.”

“Fuck me. Cassie works there too! You assholes weren’t going to let her know about her ex working at the same place?”

“Our client was going to take care of it.”

“Great job,” I deadpanned.

Brock ignored my sarcastic barb. “Was the door locked, Gabe?”

I blew out a breath. “Yes. I know it was, Brock.”

“Then maybe he doesn’t have her.”

Moving into the bathroom, I caught my reflection in the mirror. To say I looked rough would be a massive understatement. I wiped a hand down my face, but it didn’t help.

“You know that isn’t the case, Brock. No way Cassie would leave things like this. He’s got her, and I don’t know shit about where he might be or where he might take her.”

I heard car doors closing in the background. “Don’t think about that shit right now, Gabe. We’ll be there soon.”

That didn’t make me feel any better. “Should I leave the room the way it is, Brock? Or can I close up these drawers and shit? I mean, the cops aren’t gonna be able to tell us jack, am I right?”

I heard Clint talking in the background, but couldn’t make out what he said. Then Brock replied, “Yeah. Leave it like it is. We’re five minutes away, bro.”

Less than five minutes later, Brock and Clint came in. They looked at the bathroom and Clint closed the doors and drawers. I had my temper in check by a thread, and I knew Brock could see it.

Clint stepped out onto our balcony and shut the door behind him.

“What the fuck is he doing?”

Brock looked to the balcony and back to me. “I don’t know. But he knows a fuckuvalot more than I realized, which means he’s even better at his job than I already gave him credit for. So, let’s let him do whatever he’s doin’.”

I slammed a fist onto the counter. “Brock, I’ve got to do something!”

He crossed his arms on his chest, but moved closer to me. “I know, Gabe, but right now—”

“Wait,” I interrupted. I dug my keys out of my pocket. “I have her emergency key. I can go check her place—”

Brock shook his head, but I turned on my heel. I got one step forward before Brock caught me up short in a chicken-wing hold. I planted my feet and tried to throw him over, but my damn brother was bulkier than I was and I couldn’t manage it, even with sheer rage on my side.

“Boys, boys. This shit ain’t helping,” Clint said from behind us.

Brock kept hold on me, but turned both of our bodies to Clint. “This asshole wants to go to her place. He has her emergency key. I don’t want him goin’ anywhere half-cocked.”

“Good. Gimme the key, Gabe.”

I shook my head. “No. She’s my woman, I’m takin’ care of her.”

Clint’s jaw shifted a touch. “No. Give me the key. You aren’t trained, and you don’t need to get hurt in this shit.”

“I’m damn well comin’ with you,” I bit out.

“Didn’t say you weren’t. Now give me the damn key so we can get on with this shit. I gotta report in to the client, and he’s not going to be happy.”

I handed Clint my keys, but I narrowed my eyes at him as things began to come clear to me.

“You’re investigating her bitch of a mom, aren’t you?”

Clint’s eyes gave it away because he didn’t look at me, and he was always a straight-shooter. So him looking to Brock meant he suspected Brock of telling me something. I felt Brock moving behind me ever-so-slightly, and I knew my brother was shaking his head.

“He didn’t say shit,” I continued. “My woman came in here asking why he,” I jerked my head back at my brother so he might also let me go, but he didn’t, “wouldn’t acknowledge her at a fancy steakhouse. Then as soon as he disappears an old guy takes his place.”

“Don’t mean shit, Sullivan,” Clint said as he strode past us. “Now, if you’re comin’, your brother needs to let you go.”

Brock did that, and I stepped into Clint’s space. “Her mother has plans to set Pruitt up for money-laundering, and doesn’t give a shit if her husband is incriminated. And by extension, her daughter, either.”

Clint’s eyes went to Brock, and I knew I’d hit on something. When Clint looked back to me he shook his head. “We don’t have time, Gabe. If Craddick has her, I got a bad feeling we’re already too late. I’ll tell you about this, but it’ll be later. Let’s go.”

29Pizza

Gabe

CLINT UNLOCKED THE door, and it was all I could do not to shove past him. However, everything was dark and my instincts said she wasn’t here. I didn’t know how I knew that, but I knew I was

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