Page 14 of Hurt

The group turned to him. The existence of another blood Elliott was not common knowledge. “His mother was an outsider. A singer, I believe. The nephew has been raised by Luther out of the country.”

“Luther has been an ally to us,” Grant said. “If he has an heir, then there is no reason for him to go against us. It’s too great a risk for The Mesas.”

“Those Vega assholes are crusin’ for a bruisin.’” Jamie muttered after Elijah dropped his hand.

Wallace nodded. “Set up a meeting. Neutral ground. We will discuss this with the Vegas.” He stroked his goatee. “Send messages to the Mesas, too. And have Jackson on the lookout.”

Elijah shivered at the name of the mysterious Jackson. The shadowy mercenary was an enigma. No one wanted to get close enough to the man to find out more about him.

“Jackson has always sided with us.” Grant nodded.

They lapsed into contemplative silence before Wallace looked over at the two juniors. Normally content to ignore them, he rarely acknowledged their presence or even deigned to look at them.

“Elijah, I want you to look into Congressman Thomas. See who he is meeting up with and if he has any connection to the Vega Cabals. He made a promise to ally himself with us, blackmail, or no. If we can tie him to the Vega Cabals, we’ll have more ammunition to bring to the meeting.”

Elijah bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and Jamie,” Wallace said with his eyes sparkling with something wicked. “Release those photos you took.”

Jamie grinned ferally. “With pleasure.”

4

TAKE THE SALT FROM MY WOUNDS, PUT IT ON THE RIM

It was early afternoon when Grant finally stood outside The Sunspot again. Hands in his pockets, he leaned back and stared up at the dilapidated building. Through the cool tint of his sunglasses, the place looked shabby. Someone had painted the windows with a thin layer of black paint—only the faintest of shadows could be seen moving in the interior.

Jamie came up beside him. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

He didn’t answer.

If someone were to ask what drew him here today, he couldn’t answer. He had a million things to do. His to-do list was always sky-high, the least of which was his problems with the Vega Cabals.

Losing Congressman Thomas was bad. Without his protection, the Weavers were susceptible to police investigation. It was a vulnerability they couldn’t afford—which is precisely what the Vega Cabals intended. The timing was not a coincidence. The Vegas had been chafing in second place for too long.

Which is why Grant should turn back around and go back to work. Forget all thoughts of entering this bar. He had responsibilities. Things that not only required his attention but demanded it.

But even if he did return, he wouldn’t be able to focus. He hadn’t been able to focus in days. Not since he heard the music. Twangy rhythms haunted his sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw him—the man with the guitar.

Grant didn’t believe in the folly of love at first sight. The idea was ludicrous. An invention made by the media to sell things. How could someone love with just a look? Lust, yes. But love? No. Love wasn’t fleeting. Love was solid. Love was the kind of thing that could withstand wars. The kind of feeling that drove sane men mad and mad men sane. Love was the ultimate goal, the one thing a human didn’t need to survive but needed to live.

So no, Grant knew he wasn’t in love with a man whose name he didn’t even know.

“Boss,” Jamie asked with an arched eyebrow. “Are we going in, or we just going to…stare at it?”

Grant didn’t answer again. A question lingered on his lips—he wanted to know what Jamie had discovered about the man with the guitar. He knew Jamie had the information. The kid had a loudmouth, but he did his job with a ruthless efficiency.

But he didn’t ask.

He didn’t know why. Grant lived off information. Information made his business run—the one with the most intel was the one with the power. Grant knew things about people that would make any rational person’s hair stand on end. But for some reason, he was afraid to know about the man. He just couldn’t figure out if he was afraid of what he might hear or what it might make him feel.

Without answering Jamie, he stepped forward and opened the front door.

The bar was brighter this time around. Only a handful of customers were scattered around the place—most nursing watery drinks and talking in hushed tones. Grant removed his sunglasses and slid them into the collar of his shirt as he took in the scene.

He felt a pang of disappointment when he saw the empty stage. He didn’t want to examine that too closely.

“Sid! My guy!” Jamie chirped from behind Grant. He raised a hand to another young man who was hovering in the back by the pool tables. A pallid face turned to Jamie and smiled thinly in greeting. His dark eyes took in Grant, and they widened a fraction of an inch before turning away.