Page 28 of The Bronze Garza

I’m so goddamn exhausted I’m borderline homicidal. If so many people didn’t depend on this firm, I’d shut the entire operation down. When I started Red Cage, it was in honor of Ray, my stepdad. Didn’t expect it to become what it is right now. Successful. Needed. Necessary. Which all totals to a giant pain in my ass.

I’m the shoulders that carry it all now. The one the business can’t seem to run without, no matter how well I train these men.

At thirteen, I was so in awe of Ray, an army veteran turned private investigator and commando, that I told him, “When I grow up, I want people to need me like they need you. I’m gonna have a business just like yours and be the best at it like you are.”

He’d looked at me grimly and said, “Bein’ the best at what you do is more a curse than it’s a blessin’, son. So’s being needed. Go on to become an accountant or somethin’. Promise you’ll be happier.”

I’d told him he was insane and held on to the dream of being just like him. My hero. And after he died, that decision crystallized.

Except that what Ray’d had was a small office buried in the Colorado mountains and surrounded by booby traps. That was what I’d imagined.

My reality:

A four-story building erected in the middle of downtown L.A.

A staff of over a hundred.

A multi-million-dollar business.

A clientele consisting of millionaires and billionaires.

A family.

It’s on days like this, when I’m mentally and physically worn, and the migraines are ceaseless, and on hour thirty-six of my vacation I’m forced into the office because a client refuses to deal with anyone else, that I remember Ray’s words and think, “You were right, old man.”

Being needed is a curse.

When we get to the meeting room, I find Mitch Henderson seated at the table with his head in his hands. He glances up at the sound of our entrance and relief flits across his face.

He stands and thrusts his hand out to me. “Thank you so much for agreeing to see me, Mr. Garza.”

I give his hand a brief, but firm shake.A man’s handshake will tell you everything you need to know about him, Ray used to tell me. “Less than two days in on my vacation.”

“Sorry about that,” he mumbles, not sounding sorry in the least. He’s a man who wants what he wants and I’m what he wants right now. The man didn’t become a billionaire by taking no for an answer.

I round the table and sit across from him. “What can I help you with this time, Henderson?”

“It’s Lyra. I think...I think she’s in danger.”

I ignore the brief stutter of my pulse. “Something happened?”

He nods. “A couple of weeks ago. A hit and run.”

“She okay?”

He breathes out a heavy breath. “She was in a coma for roughly thirty hours after the hit. But she didn’t sustain any major damage. Just a couple fractured ribs. Sprains, cuts, bruises. She’s much better now, though, thank God.”

“Where’d this happen?”

“Outside BAX Cinema.”

“Who was she with?”

“Her friend Holly and my stepson.”

“What were the cops’ thoughts?”

“They were unable to retrieve any security footage. And no one got the plate number.”