Chapter Twenty-Nine
Atticus’s alarm went off at five thirty.
He was already awake, having slept in fits and starts since Slade had interrupted a damn good dream.
Not that he remembered what the dream was about, but he knew it had been good.
But like every good dream he had, it usually faded without him being able to remember.
With too much to do, he hopped out of bed and headed for the shower.
Rather than make a mental priority list of the things he needed to focus on when he got to HQ, Atticus found himself thinking about Slade.
About the way the man had come into his room, geared up for a fight in the middle of the damn night.
Would it always be like that? If they somehow managed to get past whatever obstacle was in their way at the moment, would Slade always doubt their sincerity? Was it even possible to have a relationship if that were the case?
Atticus didn’t know the answer to any of those questions.
He also didn’t know what he was supposed to do next.
Although he was angry at Slade for constantly thinking the worst of him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to give it all up.
Sure, he said casual was the best path for them, and he meant it.
For the moment. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t look toward the future at some point.
Once Slade had time to realize no one was out to get him.
Was there even a future for them?
Shutting off the water, Atticus grabbed the towel from the bar and rubbed it over his hair, removing the excess water before using it to dry off his body.
When he was done, he secured it around his waist and moved to the sink.
He wiped the mirror with his hand so he could see his reflection.
He probably needed to shave, but he was skipping that step this morning. However, brushing his teeth was a must.
He took care of that, gargled some mouthwash for good measure, then ran a comb through his hair and styled it with his fingers before sauntering out of the bathroom. He was walking into his bedroom when he heard footsteps behind him.
“You went on a fuckin’ date with Archer last night?”
Atticus came up short by the pure fury in Slade’s tone. He slowly pivoted to face the man, noticing that his expression matched his harsh tone.
“What?”
“I just got a call that you and Archer were on a date. At Moonshiners.”
“A call? From who?”
“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter. You were on a date,” he accused.
Atticus took a deep breath. “It wasn’t a date.”
“The fuck it wasn’t.”
Taking a step forward, Atticus raised a hand to halt the tirade before it started. “I swear to—”
“Shut up,” Slade snapped. “Just shut up, Atticus. Carson might think you’re above lying, but I don’t.”
Okay, he’d tried being nice, but Slade was pushing. Atticus didn’t want to fight, but he would if it meant defending his actions. “What are you talkin’ about?”
Slade stared at him, his eyes flashing fury. “You’re really gonna tell me you weren’t at Moonshiners with Archer? Because I’ve got proof.”
Atticus had to step back to keep from getting smacked with Slade’s phone when the man thrust it his way. On the screen was a picture of him laughing while Archer sat across from him, a big grin on his face.
Someone had taken a picture of them? Who? And why?
“It wasn’t a fuckin’ date, Slade. When I got home last night, I wasn’t tired, so I invited Archer to get a drink. To talk.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure you talked. Sounds to me like y’all got all chummy while you were busy buyin’ his drinks.”
“Is that what you’re pissed about? Because I bought his drinks?” Atticus huffed a sigh and spun around. “Fuck, Slade. Get over yourself.”
Atticus went for the bag he’d left sitting on the dresser and grabbed the last pair of clean jeans he had in there. He grabbed underwear and socks, then proceeded to get dressed while Slade seethed behind him.
“You’re not even gonna try to explain it?” Slade asked when Atticus was buttoning his jeans.
“You won’t listen to me even if I do.”
“Try me.”
“There’s nothin’ to explain. We went to Moonshiners, had a couple of beers, a couple of shots, and we talked.”
“You invited him. And you paid for his drinks. That’s a date.”
“Not when the guy’s your partner.” Atticus glared at Slade. “Are you tellin’ me, Evan never bought you a drink?”
“That’s different!” Slade spat.
“Why? Because Evan’s straight? For fuck’s sake, Slade. That’s ignorant.”
He huffed again, then walked into the closet and grabbed a shirt, pulled it on. When he came back, Slade was still standing in the doorway, his face red with anger.
“I want you out.”
“I’m headin’ that way.”
“No. I don’t mean for today.”
Atticus stopped moving.
“I want you out of my house.”
Well, that made the answer to all those questions pretty damn simple. No, there was no future for him and Slade.
Pivoting on his heel, Atticus returned to the closet and grabbed the rest of his clothes. Since he’d packed most everything for the trip to Dallas already and had yet to unpack, there wasn’t much to get. He stuffed it all into the bag, then sat on the bed to put on his socks and boots.
“You’re not even gonna apologize, huh?” Slade asked, still standing in the doorway.
Atticus glanced at him over his shoulder. “For what? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You would say that.”
With another sigh, Atticus got to his feet, grabbed the bag, and headed for the door. Slade stepped out of the way, allowing him to get by. He made a quick pitstop in the bathroom to grab the few things he had in there, then hefted the bag onto his shoulder.
“Oh, and Atticus…”
When he reached the front door, he considered looking back but decided not to.
“Carson said he’s done with this, too.”
Yeah. That sounded about right. Then again, this had been doomed from the start, but he’d been too hopeful to see the truth.
Coffee.
For whatever reason, Brantley needed it this morning. Lots of it. Maybe an IV of caffeine would help because the run hadn’t managed to shed the fatigue.
“That’s your third cup.”
With his cup halfway to his mouth, Brantley paused, looked at Reese. “Are you the coffee police this mornin’?”
Reese grinned. “Maybe I should be. What’s up?”
Brantley shrugged as he walked around the kitchen island and plopped down on one of the stools. He set his mug down, stared into the black liquid.
“I wanted to find her,” he said softly, realizing he wasn’t so much tired as he was disappointed. “Yesterday. At that house. I wanted her to be there.”
“Don’t give up yet.”
It was difficult not to when everywhere they turned, they came up empty.
They were being steered in various directions without a real path or destination, and he wasn’t sure which way was up anymore.
It was like a real-life shell game. Or one of those fun houses with smoke and mirrors.
Everything was an illusion created to confuse and disorient.
Giving up felt like the only option.
“I think we—”
A knock on the back door interrupted Reese. Brantley turned to see Archer standing on the back deck.
“It’s unlocked.”
The glass door slid open, and the big man sauntered in. His gaze caught on Tesha when she got up from her bed, and as soon as he noticed her, Archer’s face lit up like a kid in a candy store.
Yeah, they needed to get this guy a dog.
“What’s up?” Brantley asked Archer as he squatted down to pet Tesha.
“Wanted to give y’all an update. I compiled the notes from the team last night.”
“When did you have time to do that? Rumor is you were at Moonshiners gettin’ shit-faced,” Brantley teased.
He smiled, standing tall. “I’ll admit, I was feelin’ no pain, but I know when to stop.”
Brantley reached for his coffee cup. “What information can’t wait until we get to the barn?”
“Ignore him,” Reese said. “He’s grumpy this mornin’. You want some coffee? I’m makin’ omelets.”
As though cued, Archer’s stomach rumbled, causing Tesha’s ears to perk up and Brantley to laugh.
“Well, I guess that’s settled then.” Brantley pointed at the stool beside him.
“I’m not sure you heard,” Archer began as he pulled out the stool, “but Becs and Evan ran into Allison Bogart yesterday. Here in town.”
No, they hadn’t heard that. “What did she have to say?”
“Nothing. She high-tailed it.”
“Sounds about right.” Smoke and mirrors, just as he’d said.
“Did you get the DNA results back yet?” Archer glanced between him and Reese.
Reese answered with a shake of his head. “Z said it’d take twenty-four hours.”
“At best,” Brantley tacked on.
“He’s disappointed,” Reese told Archer.
“Of course you are.” Archer glanced over at him. “You’re lookin’ for a family member. One you thought you lost. There’s not a tremendous amount of hope yet, but there’s somethin’, so it’s only logical that it would get to you. We’re gonna keep pushin’ until we know for sure.”
Although he didn’t want the pep talk, Brantley appreciated it all the same. Archer was right. There was still plenty left to do. More than enough rocks to look under.
Hell, yesterday morning, he thought they were deluding themselves, thinking Kylie was alive.
Based on what they’d uncovered in a short amount of time, Brantley couldn’t help but think she was.
She was alive, and Martin Calloway was keeping her locked away.
Whether for punishment because of what happened to Juliet Prince, or because he was merely a sick SOB who got off on hurting people.
Either way, the bastard was going down for this.
“I assume you and Atticus have an action plan,” he said, sipping his coffee.
“Thanks,” Archer told Reese when he passed over a mug. “We do.”
“Good. You can—” This time the ringing of his cell phone interrupted, causing Brantley to look at the device sitting on the counter. “It’s JJ.”
He answered the call, putting it on speaker.
“Mornin’,” he greeted.
“We’re comin’ home!” JJ squealed.
“When?”
“Today.” Her voice was trembling, he assumed from excitement. “Our babies get to go home!”
“That’s fantastic, JJ,” Reese told her, standing at the island as he stared down at the phone.
Brantley was almost positive those were tears he saw in Reese’s eyes. And fine, maybe he had a bit of moisture building up in his, too. He was thrilled for JJ and Baz, grateful that Noah and Naomi were well enough to come home so soon.
“If there’s anything you need before or after, just let us know,” Brantley told her.
“We’re good. Baz went home to get the car seats. The doctor said around noon, so we’re checkin’ out of the hotel and we’ll wait at the hospital.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“I know, right?” JJ sighed. “Is there anything I can do for the case until then?”
Brantley looked at Archer. He was in charge.
“We’ve got it covered, JJ. You focus on those little ones. But I promise to keep you updated.”
“You’re a good man, Archer Halligan,” she said with a smile in her voice. “Did you know he sent me an email update with everything that happened yesterday?”
Assuming she was talking to him, Brantley said, “I did not.”
“Yep. Told me about the shenanigans with the tails and the blood you found at the house. Did you get the results yet?”
“Twenty-four hours,” he and Reese said at the same time.
“Well, I’m keepin’ my fingers crossed.” Her voice took on a dream quality when she added, “My babies are comin’ home.”
“Let us know when we can stop by and see them. We’ll wait for an invite so we don’t interrupt your time with them.”
“Soon,” she said. “I promise.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. That’s all for now. I’ll talk to y’all later.”
“Later, JJ.” He tapped the end call button on the screen.
“She sounds happy,” Archer acknowledged.
“Oh, yeah. This is a huge relief after all they’ve been through.”
“Well, let’s try to ride this wave of good luck.” Archer glanced between them. “And figure out where Kylie is so she can come home, too.”
Yeah. What he said.