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Bill obediently pulls out his phone and his reading glasses. He scrolls through his phone, then frowns. “Oh, shit. Look, I typed up the message but then I forgot to hit send.”
“What?” Harrison roars, reaching over the bar top and yanking his father’s phone out of his hand. “Dad! What the fuck?”
“Sorry, son. Sometimes I forget to do that.” Bill makes a face like he forgot to get milk at the store, not that he forgot to tell our boyfriend we desperately miss him and want to talk to him but we’ve had all our electronics confiscated by the FBI.
“Oh, my god!” Harrison runs his hand through his hair and sets the phone down on the bar. He hits send on the text. “William must think I’m a complete insensitive bastard. Even more than he already did.” He turns and puts his palms on the back counter, bending over like he’s trying to gather his thoughts.
I’m reaching for the phone to just call Liam when a laugh rings out at the table where the agents are seated. I’m momentarily distracted by the fact that Ford’s sister, Frannie, is doing a hair flip as she puts down yet another dessert plate in front of the muscular agent.
“That agent has had at least four desserts,” Penelope comments. “What a hungry fella.”
“I don’t think he loves just the pastries,” Bill comments. “He’s been eyeing Frannie and vice versa all day.”
“What?” Ford exclaims, his eyes widening as he studies the interaction.
“That’s consorting with the enemy.”
The new voice coming from behind us makes me jump a little. I turn. “Oh good grief, Sam, you scared me.”
Harrison’s grandfather must be the oldest ninja in existence, because I had no idea he had come into Raw.
“Having the Feds on your ass would make anyone jumpy,” he says, sounding almost exactly like his son, Bill. Or maybe Bill sounds like him.
At any rate, it only serves to make Harrison even more agitated. “Why is everyone being so fucking casual?” he demands. “This is a disaster!” Then he turns to Penelope. “Sorry for the language, ma’am.”
His apology for using a word he uses two dozen times a day is adorable to me.
“No offense, Harrison. Love brings out strong emotions.”
“Love?” Sam asks. “I thought we were talking about Brad Richardson being a crook.”
“We were but we’re also discussing how these kids need to work out their poly relationship,” Greg says. “What with Liam decamping to California and all. They’re not going to be happy until they’re all together.”
Harrison has his father’s phone to his ear. “Liam isn’t picking up.”
My heart sinks. What is going on with Liam?
The pastry loving and flirting-with-Frannie FBI agent has stood up and walks over to us. He sets two phones down on the bar. “Harrison and Ford, your phones have been released.”
“Thank God.” Harrison grabs his and does facial recognition to unlock it. “I’m calling Liam.”
“And my phone?” I ask. I have the definite feeling I’m not getting mine back.
“I’m sorry, miss. Yours has been sent to the field office for further analysis. But you’re not under suspicion. We just needto see if there is anything useful to our investigation. And you’re sure you don’t have any idea where Brad might have gone?”
I shake my head. They’ve already asked me this ten times. “I honestly have no idea. Brad obviously didn’t come here and I have no idea where he might go.” My initial thought was Mexico but that’s only because it seems the easiest. I have no basis for thinking that, so I’ve kept that to myself. I don’t want another round of probing questions I don’t have answers for.
“Thank you all for your help and for lunch.” The agent gives us a wave. “We’ll be in touch.”
“What am I going to do without a phone?” I ask to no one in particular. I feel sick to my stomach about Liam.
“I already ordered a new one,” Ford says. “It should be here any minute. I got one hour delivery.”
“His phone is going straight to voicemail,” Harrison announces.
Sam is fiddling with his own phone. “Oh, that’s because he’s in the air. He has a layover in Denver.”
“What?” I gape at him. “Why is he going to Denver?”