Page 16 of Hurt

“Gambling is prohibited,” Grant reminded him.

“Who was gambling?” Jamie said with a smirk.

Grant ignored his wayward subordinate. “The information on the bartender.”

Lifting the can to his lips, he smiled, and the can hit his teeth. “So, you finally spoke to him? Let me guess: He told you to fuck off?”

Resisting the urge to tell him that cursing is also forbidden—he gritted his teeth. “In so many words.”

“Don’t take it personally. It’s kind of his thing. Real asshole.”

Grant side-eyed Jamie. The look on his face silenced the young man. “Right, right.” He cleared his throat. “Kurt Beckett, aged twenty-eight. High school dropout. Parents were musicians. One older biological sister that worked off and on as a singer. All deceased. Died in a plane crash ten years ago. Only surviving family member is the eldest sister's son, being raised by his paternal family. Kurt’s been working here for six years. Lives above the bar. Finances are non-existent—it would appear he’s paid in cash and under the table.” His words were clipped and fast, rattling off the information as if he were reading it instead of reciting it by memory.

Grant paused. “You said biological sibling?”

“Seems like his parents adopted a kid around the same age as Kurt. A real musical genius. We’re talking world tours, sold-out stadiums kind of musical genius. I didn’t really understand a lot of what the articles said, but the word ‘savant’ and ‘prodigy’ were thrown around a lot. Her name is Willow. Works here, too. Dancer. And a good one.”

He leaned back on the stool and felt it wobble under him. Ten years ago, his family all died tragically. That would have been right about the time he dropped out of high school.

“Where was he the four years before he started working here?”

Jamie watched his boss over the can. “No idea. There’s no records of employment or education. I could find out, but it’ll require me to get…” his nefarious smile returned, “crafty.”

So, Kurt dropped out of high school then disappeared for four years, only to end up unlawfully employed at The Sunspot. There was more to the story. Maybe a reason for the distrust in his eyes.

Jamie was staring at him. “He’s really knocked you off kilter, huh?”

He shot him a warning glare. “James.”

“Woah, woah. Ease up with the homicidal thoughts.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I was just saying. You’re not asking the right questions, my liege.”

Grant thought he might assign Jamie to paparazzi duty permanently. A few weeks of following old perverts around might teach him some respect.

“You didn’t ask me who the father of Kurt’s nephew was.”

Grant thought back to what he had told him and realized Jamie was right. Normally, he would have picked up on that. But he had been so concerned with Kurt personally that all information that didn’t directly pertain to him had fallen aside.

“The one and only Michael Elliott,” Jamie said smugly. “As in, the late heir to the White Sand Mesa gang.”

“Which makes his nephew…”

“The current heir to the White Sand Mesa empire. Yes.”

That changed things. Grant was reeling. Somehow, this bartender was even more entrenched in Grant’s world than he thought. If the Weavers were the largest gang, then the Mesas were the richest. Years of friendship with the Elliotts had been hard-earned, a peace that had lasted for generations. When the Elliotts suffered a loss of all their blood heirs, the Weavers had helped them hold onto their territories until the illegitimate Luther was able to step in.

How did a family of musicians end up wrapped up with the richest gang in the state?

“Next, you’ll ask, ‘But Jamie, if Willow was such a musical genius, how did she end up stripping in a rundown bar in the middle of nowhere?’”

“And the answer is?”

“Exactly!” Jamie said excitedly, eyes bright. “There is none! Everything I found said she was set for life—the largest Universities in the world were offering her boat loads of money to come study with them. Orchestras were practically selling their souls for a chance to have her play with them. She graduates high school and then…nothing. Bubkus. She disappears off the map. Not even a grainy Youtube video of her playing on the sidewalk for loose change.”

Jamie was grinning like the cat who had just got the cream. He was incredibly proud of himself. And he should be. He found holes in the timeline that Grant had missed.

“Jamie.” Grant squared his shoulders. “I can’t seem to see the end of the bar very well. There’s a dark spot. Perhaps you should go check it out. There might be an unattended beer that needs disposing of.”

Jamie’s smile widened, and he ducked his head, scooting off his stool and eagerly scurrying toward his reward.