heads back to the bar while Angel takes her first shot at the pool table.
I don’t know what’s going on here tonight, but something tells me whatever it is could bring me closer to finding Lana’s killer.
And back to Mason.
Mason
“You sure you’ll be okay?”
Jessica’s plopped on my couch beneath a blanket with the remote in one hand and a saltine cracker she’s been nibbling on in the other. “How long will you guys be gone?”
Fuck, not any longer than we have to be. “I’ll get him home as soon as I can.”
She blinks rapidly, as if she’s fighting tears. “Do you think . . .?” She swallows hard. “Do you think he’ll let him go?”
Drake’s dad let him out of the family business? Funny, the asshole never acknowledged Drake as being family until the guy was old enough to do is his bidding. Prick.
I blow out a long breath and drop to the couch at her feet. “I have no idea. But I’m going to try my hardest to convince him to.”
She studies the glowing screen of the TV. “The pregnancy changes everything.”
“The baby changes everything, yes.”
Her tired eyes meet mine and her bottom lip quivers.
“It’s okay, Jess. You just worry about taking care of yourself. There’s food in the fridge. Help yourself to whatever you want and try to get some sleep.”
Drake’s heavy footfalls sound as he barrels down the stairs, freshly showered. “Let’s get this shit over with.”
I nod to Jessica, and her gaze slides to my brother. “Be careful. Promise me you’ll be careful, Dr—”
Her words are cut off as my brother presses a kiss to her lips, cupping her jaw with a tenderness I’ve never seen between them before. I push up and move to the kitchen to give them some privacy.
“I’m not giving up on us, Jess. Not you or our baby, understand?”
She mumbles something I can’t hear.
“We’ll get back as soon as we can.” The sound of him kissing her mixes with the sound of her sniffing back tears.
I don’t know what Drake’s dad has planned for us tonight, but my guess is it’ll be nothing more than a stern talking to about me staying out of Drake’s life, keeping my mouth shut about what I’ve seen, and Drake trying to convince the man that his baby is worth him letting him go for.
I’ve always known D’s dad had no soul. I only hope he’s finally grown one. If not, Drake’s fucked.
“This is it.” Drake nods toward the huge doors to a fancy-assed suite of some kind.
Music filters through the doors, hard-hitting bass that would rattle the fuckers if they weren’t made of solid wood.
He hits the glowing orange doorbell, opting out of a simple knock, knowing it won’t be heard over the music. Voices call out, and soon the locks click and the door cracks open to reveal a guy who’s vaguely familiar. One of Drake’s crew.
“Jase, man. What’s up?” Drake shakes hands with the guy, and they pull together for quick back-slapping hug.
“Drake, glad you could make it.” Jase opens the door wider to let us in.
“Like I had a choice?” Drake laughs, but there’s little humor in it. “This is my brother, Mason.”
I nod to Jase, and he doesn’t offer to shake my hand, which is good. I’m not sure who’s an enemy and who’s a friend yet, but if this guy is on Drake’s dad’s crew, he’s an enemy.
“Nice to meet you. You guys got here just in time.” Jase bounces his eyebrows, and I deduct a few years off my original age estimation.
Fuck, these guys are recruiting high school kids. Great.
“My dad around?” Drake asks while Jase leads us through what looks more like a mansion than a damn hotel room.
“He’s here. Been meeting privately with some of the guys, but my guess is they should be finishing up.” Jase continues to head toward the direction of the music. Male voices blend with the occasional girls, no different from a typical Vegas party.
We turn the corner into a large living space filled with partygoers. I scan the area, noting the distinct mix of people. Most of the guys look similar to Drake or me, dressed in some variation of the west-coast semi-casual attire of loose-fitting plaid and Dickies. But the rest are distinctly different. Denim, leather, and in desperate need of a razor, bikers are sprinkled throughout the room.
It’s a damn sausage party in this place, although there are women, but they’re heavily outnumbered. And most of them seem