Page 50 of Hurt

Standing in front of the old goat was always worrying. Grant and Roland were also in the room, looking over their grandfather’s shoulder at the information.

“So, Congressman Thomas is exporting something to Mexico,” Grant said. His fingers were resting on his chin as he mulled over the information. “The Vega Cabal figured it out, and they’re using this information to blackmail him.”

“But how could that be worse than the information we have on him?” Roland asked from the corner he had situated himself in. His hands were crossed in front of him. His right knuckles were an ugly shade of purple, bruised from the beating he had given.

“Prison,” Jamie said unexpectedly. Normally Wallace demanded silence from the boisterous youth, but he had spoken out of turn today. “Think about it. The pictures we took were embarrassing. Would they ruin his marriage? Sure. But it’s not like his PR team hasn’t dealt with this kind of thing before. But that?” He pointed at the USB. “Whatever the Vegas have on him would send him to prison. Like real prison, not white, rich guy prison.”

Elijah tried not to smile at the astute observations his partner made.

Wallace narrowed his gaze at Jamie but nodded in approval. “We need to find out what he’s exporting.”

Grant nodded. “I will get on that. It would be good to have this information before the meeting with the Vegas.”

Wallace looked down at his papers, and they all knew they were dismissed. Elijah didn’t move.

“Sirs, one more thing.” He cleared his throat. “I…the envelope.”

Grant waved him off. “You’ve already atoned for that, Elijah. Mistakes happen.”

“Thank you, sir. But that’s not what I meant,” he began nervously. Fiddling with his hands, he took a deep breath.

“I assisted Jamie with some information gathering a few weeks ago. Information you requested on the Becketts.”

Grant’s face darkened, and he sat up a little straighter. “Go on.”

Elijah approached the desk and tentatively rifled through the papers that were in the envelope he had stolen. “I recognized an address. There.” He pointed to one of the seemingly random series of numbers on the page. “It’s a house in Prescott.”

Roland stepped from the wall and looked down at the paper. “Prescott?”

“Yes. It’s a small town north of here. It seems that the address in Prescott was the Beckett’s previous residence.”

Grant was still as he stared down at the page. Jamie stepped up behind Elijah and looked down at the address, nodding in confirmation that he recognized it too.

Roland looked at his brother, then at the paper. “Thank you, Elijah and Jamie. You’ve done exceptionally well. Please be sure to rest this evening.”

The two younger Weavers bowed their heads and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Elijah?” Roland called. “Take care of that wrist.”

Elijah adjusted the AC and glanced in the rearview mirror at his boss. Roland was looking out the window. The scenery changed from the lush area Weaver Syndicate was located to the scrubby desert that The Sunspot was located. It was a long drive, especially to drive in silence. But that’s how Roland preferred it.

He was worried.

Most people wouldn’t be able to tell. He looked cool and calm. One hand resting on his legs and the other loosely gripping the handle on the ceiling. Not wearing his usual suit, he was still dressed stiffly. Dark blue shirt tucked into khaki pants. If it weren’t for his dangerous rings brushing against each other, he might look like any businessman. That, and the dangerous aura that pervaded his presence.

He was going on a date.

In his twenty years, Elijah had never heard of his boss going on a date. He knew Grant had seen a few people, all very quiet and never very seriously. But Roland had been abstinent for as long as anyone could remember. Some people had approached him with romance in mind, but his cold attitude had soon sent them packing. He had never shown interest in anyone until the night he walked into The Sunspot.

Elijah remembered that night. Roland had been there to meet with someone from the Hansen family. If it hadn’t been a member of the family proper, they would have sent a representative. Neither Roland nor the members of the Hansen group wanted to be in that bar. But Roland had walked in, glanced at the stage, and stopped in his tracks.

Willow had been dancing. Or rather, hanging. Upside down on the pole, slim thighs supporting her weight as she winked at the crowd. From her position, she called out, and Sid shyly brought a drink onto the stage. Upside down, Willow had managed to drink the alcohol without spilling a single drop.

And just like that, Roland was in love.

Privately, Elijah found the whole thing amusing. He might have teased Jamie or even Grant about it. But not Roland.

He also felt a little bitter about it. Not about their blooming romance, because he thought Willow might be the perfect person for Roland. But because it was something he couldn’t see himself doing. Dating someone in their profession was dangerous. Roland was strong enough to protect Willow. He had resources and a reputation. Elijah didn’t have that. He would be exposing his lover to the dangers without any rewards.