Page 47 of Seaside Strangers
Of course, Brian didn’t rush. He crossed the room, dropped into the recliner like he had all the time in the world, and settled into the soft leather. The others retook their seats.
“First, I called Sean and brought him up to date. I asked him to use his contacts to make a few discreet inquiries. By the way, he’s flyingin.”
“What?” KC was stunned. “What do you mean he’s flying in?”
Shrugging, Brian sat back and put one ankle on the opposite knee. “Sent me a text saying he was boarding a flight. You’ll have to ask him when he gets here. Not sure what time that’ll be, but it should be soon.”
“Wait a minute,” Moriah interrupted and then turned to KC. “What does Sean do? You never told me.”
He looked down at her, at the uncertainty in her eyes, and some of the edge inside him shifted. He reached for her hand without thinking, threading his fingers through hers and giving a firm squeeze. “He’s with the FBI in Jacksonville, Florida, but has contacts all over the U.S. He might be able to find out something we can’t.”
She nodded, and then her gaze returned to Brian, who continued.
“Sean thinks he still has a contact in the DEA in Chicago and is trying to reach him. That’s the first thing.
“Next, I got a message to call a detective, Frank Parisi, from Chicago PD, on my work voicemail. Called him back, and the guy was a real piece of work. Talked to me like I was some backwoodssheriff with a handful of deputies and nothing better to do.”
KC huffed out a breath, irritation flaring. Yeah. He knew the type.
Dan muttered under his breath, a low grunt of agreement.
With his gaze still on Brian, KC waited for what hadn’t been said, because there was always more, and whatever came next wasn’t going to be good.
“Apparently, he got the alert when I ran Moriah’s ID,” Brian said. “Which I expected.” He lifted a hand when Moriah tensed, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say. “As I said earlier, I told him someone turned in your purse.”
She let out a breath as some of the rigidity left her shoulders, but KC didn’t miss the way her fingers stayed fisted in her lap.
“Anyway,” Brian went on, “I tried to get more out of him, but he danced around it. Said she’s not a suspect, but they’re interested in why she disappeared.” His mouth flattened as he leaned back slightly. “Didn’t say a word about her possibly being a victim. Sounded pretty damn sure she ran.”
That didn’t sit right with KC. Not even close.
Dan pinched his chin. “Maybe this detective’s tied to the dealer.”
“Maybe,” Brian said, his gaze shifting between them. “But until Sean calls back, we’re still flying blind.”
“Well,” Dan muttered, glancing toward the back door, “speak of the devil.”
KC followed his line of sight. Sean stood on the porch, juggling a carry-on, a briefcase, and a travel mug. KC jumped up, crossed the room, and pulled the door open before his brother could reach for the knob.
The youngest Malone brother stepped inside and set his bags down in time for KC to grab him in a hard hug, his hand smacking against his brother’s back. “Hey, bro. Good to see you—but you couldn’t have just called?”
Sean huffed out a laugh as he returned the embrace. “And let you guys have all the fun? Not a chance.”
Stepping back, Sean greeted Brian and Dan the same way—quick, solid hugs that needed no words—before turning his attention to the woman at KC’s side. His gaze moved over her face, professional but friendly. “You must be Moriah. Nice to meet you—though I wish it were under better circumstances.”
KC noticed a slight hesitation before sheanswered, her smile polite but unsure. “I wish it were, too, but it’s nice to meet you.”
Sean gave her a quick wink, then looked back at KC, the ease in his expression fading. “You’ve gotten yourself into some serious trouble, brother.”
He huffed out a breath, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “Tell me something we don’t already know.”
They moved back to the seating around the coffee table, Sean taking a spot beside Dan on the loveseat. He leaned back, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles, relaxed on the surface but anything but underneath.
“According to my DEA contact in Chicago—John Samson—this Leo Simmons guy is tied into the local drug trade,” Sean said. “Gets his supply from a man named Adrian Hernandez. Simmons is small-time, but Hernandez…” He paused, letting that hang a second. “He’s the real problem. Biggest supplier of coke, opioids, heroin, ecstasy—whatever’s moving through the city. He’s also got his hands in other operations, including prostitution. DEA’s been building a case against him for years and thinks they’re finally getting close.”
KC leaned forward slightly, forearms braced on his thighs, every word locking into place.
Sean’s gaze shifted to Moriah, his tone turning more deliberate. “What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room.” He waited until she nodded before continuing. “Chicago PD may be looking at you in connection with your family’s murders. But the DEA doesn’t agree.”
