Reese forced his gaze to Brantley’s face. “What?”
“Bar? Drink?”
“Yeah, sure. In a little while. I’ll shower, meet you down there.”
Reese could see the concern in Brantley’s eyes, but he simply nodded, then reached for his bag, retrieving clothes. While Brantley got dressed, Reese went into the bathroom, turned on the shower.
He let the hot water beat down on him while he focused on breathing, clearing his mind. It didn’t take long before he felt more like himself. The moment he stepped into the empty room, he realized he really did want to go down and have a drink with Brantley. Hell, he just wanted to be where Brantley was. Especially at a time like this.
The heater kicked on, rattling the metal grate that covered it, and the sound was so loud in the otherwise silent room it made him flinch. He was instantly taken back to a different place, a similar sound that had ground through his brain for months on end. A generator, not a heater. Endless noise. It had run constantly, powering the tents that had surrounded the concrete cell buried partially below ground that he’d been forced to live in. It’d been no more than six by six, and he’d spent months waiting and hoping, praying like hell he wasn’t forgotten.
His brain kicked him back to the present, to the hotel room. Reese took deep, cleansing breaths, forcing the memories away, willing his heart to stop the drumbeat in his chest.
Shaking off the memory, praying a nightmare didn’t follow tonight, Reese snagged clothes from his bag.
After dressing, he grabbed his cell phone and wallet, tucked them into his pockets.
He’d just stepped on the elevator when his phone buzzed. He checked it and a smile instantly came to his lips.
The picture was of Tesha, sitting obediently on the floor, staring up at the camera as though it was a treat. A text message followed: I don’t think she knows what to do without you here. She keeps searching the house like you’re playing a game.
Reese didn’t realize how attached he’d gotten to Tesha until that moment.
His phone buzzed again: I was thinking we should get her certified in search and rescue. Then you’ll have your very own four-legged partner.
The elevator doors opened and he stepped out. He was obviously grinning like a lunatic, because Brantley looked over, his brows furrowing.
They met halfway between the elevators and the bar.
“You look different than when I left you,” Brantley said in greeting.
He held up the picture to show him.
“I should’ve known. And here I thought I was the love of your life.”
“It’s a tie.”
A sharp bark of laughter escaped Brantley. “I’ll take it. But like I said before, only because I’m the one who sleeps with you every night. You want a beer? Somethin’ stronger?”
“Beer’s fine.” He had no intentions of getting drunk. And for some reason, Tesha had managed to soothe those rough edges he’d had after this hellish day.
While Brantley went up to the bar, Reese took a seat at the table Baz and Trey occupied. There were only six or eight more tables in the entire space and all were empty except for one other. Not a lot of business at this particular establishment, but he figured that was because it wasn’t a five-star hotel, nor was it in a hot spot for nightlife.
“You can’t be serious,” Trey was saying to Baz. “Married six times? What the fuck is wrong with him? I learned my lesson after the first.”
“Didn’t end well, huh?”
Trey shook his head, glanced over at Reese briefly before turning his attention back to Baz. “Let’s just say he wasn’t quite ready to settle down.”
“How long were you married?” Reese inquired, curious.
“The longest two and a half years of my life.”
“Ouch.” Baz took a sip of his beer. “How long ago?”
“Not long enough.”
“So you kicked Cyrus to the curb, huh?”
“More him bootin’ me, but the outcome’s all the same.”
Reese wanted to ask what had happened but held his tongue. It wasn’t his business.
“Cyrus prefers the single life,” Trey noted. “More specifically, he’s more interested in a different man every week.”
Brantley returned, passing over more beers before taking a seat beside Reese.
“Ain’t that right?” Trey asked Brantley.
“What?”
“Cyrus is better off single.”
“Sounds to me like you’re bitter,” Brantley countered.
Trey gave him the finger. “He’s takin’ a job in California.”
“He’s not the sort to settle down, but I figured you knew that. It was your reason for hookin’ up with him in the first place. No strings,” Brantley said without heat. “You can do better than Cyrus.”
“Trust me, I intend to. A hundred times over,” Trey grumbled, leaning back and taking a long pull on his beer.
The conversation shifted to work, about the plans for tomorrow, thoughts about the detective on the case, and was it possible they’d be home for Thanksgiving. After two beers, Reese was relaxed enough he was ready for sleep, so he excused himself up to the room with Brantley not far behind.
