Melt (Steel Brothers Saga #4)(51)

If only I had let that lead me all the way out, all the way back to the light. But I hadn’t, and one night I’d made a phone call to Gina’s parents.

If only I could go back in time and not make that call.

I laughed again. I always counseled my patients against the “what ifs.” They served no purpose. All we could do was handle the situation we found ourselves in currently.

I sat down at my desk, cradling my head in my hands.

Now. This was now. Now was all I had, and I had to figure out how to deal with it.

I breathed in and out, willing the tears not to fall. I had made my bed, and now I had to lie in it. If only…

“God, stop it!” I said aloud. I stood, grabbing my purse, and walked out of my office, shutting the door and locking it behind me.

“Lock up when you’re done making the calls,” I said to Randi. “I won’t be back today.”

I needed some fresh air.

And I knew just where I could get it.





Chapter Twenty–Five





Jonah




Talon and Ryan sat across from me at my office in the beef ranch buildings. Talon wanted to talk to us about more evidence regarding Nico Kostas. I sat, listening, wanting so much to tell him my suspicions about Tom Simpson. But without solid proof, I couldn’t burden him with it. And then there was Bryce. My oldest and best friend in the world, who was a new father.

I owed him honesty too. In fact, since it was his father, I needed to tell him before I told Talon. But I couldn’t do either until I had some proof other than my gut feeling.

I’d called the Junction police earlier, and they’d vouched for Mills and Johnson, though they gave me the same caveat Steve had—just don’t pay too much attention to how they get things done. But they were good, apparently, as they’d never been caught.

Hell, I didn’t mind if they left their scruples at the door. I just wanted justice for my brother and for Bryce’s cousin and all those other poor kids who had become nameless in the last twentyfive years.

“Biker Bob found his original records,” Talon was saying. “And here they are.” He shoved a few papers on the desk toward me.

“Now? I thought you were meeting with him a week or so ago?”

“I did. He required a little more…incentive.”

I rolled my eyes. Talon wanted so much to find these guys, but for all we knew, this Biker Bob guy had fabricated records to get Talon to pay him. I’d go along. This was important to my brother.

I eyed the papers. “This is for the phoenix tattoo?”

“Yeah. He did the tat five times altogether on the left forearm, but only three of these fit the time frame. None of them, unfortunately, are named Nico Kostas.”

I scanned the documents. Christopher Headley. Declan Stevens. Milo Sanchez. I wasn’t one to say “I told you so,” so I didn’t. “So what now?” I asked.

“I’m going to track down all of these guys. One of them is him. I know it. He either used another name then, or he’s using one now.”

“You do realize, don’t you,” I said, “that this guy doesn’t want to be found?”

He nodded. “It’s him, though. I know it. Why else would he have disappeared? Clearly he has no conscience. He tried to have Brooke killed, for God’s sake.”

“You don’t have any proof of that either,” I reminded him. “And when are you going to find the time to track these guys down? You have an orchard to run, or have you forgotten?”

He raised his eyebrows. “What’s with you, Joe? Don’t you want to catch this guy?”

More than he knew. “Of course I do. But Tal, we have to be reasonable.” I was one to talk. I had Tom Simpson convicted in my mind already. But saying this wouldn’t help my brother keep things in perspective.

“Joe’s right,” Ryan agreed. “Don’t get so caught up in this that you forget to live your life.”

Talon let out a breath. “I know, I know.” He stood, clearly on edge. “You’re right. But why not have Mills and Johnson check these guys out? If anyone can track them down, those two can.”

“They can try,” I said. “And we can continue to lean on Larry to finger the other two. But that’s about all we can do right now. We do have a ranch to run.”

Talon reddened a bit. “Yes, we have a fucking ranch to run, Joe. God, you sound just like Dad. Who died and made you responsible for everything?”

“Dad did,” I said.

And he had—always drumming into my head that I was the oldest so I had to be responsible for everything.

“You know, Ry and I do our share around here.”

“I know.”

“So you can drop the big brother routine.”

If only it were that easy. I’d dropped the big brother routine one fateful day twentyfive years ago. Unlikely I’d ever drop it again.

Luckily, I was saved by my cell phone vibrating on my desk. I took a quick look and tried to disguise the happiness I felt.

Melanie.

“Sorry, guys, I need to take this,” I said.

They both stood and left my office. I knew we’d be revisiting the tattoo guys later, but for now, I wanted to see what Melanie needed.