Once I’ve completed the short climb, I find Kace standing behind the island, with Savage and Blake standing on the opposite side with their backs to me. As if he senses my presence, Kace’s gaze lifts and finds mine, that connection between us punching me in the chest, and I know, I know in that moment, that I really am where I belong: with him.
Blake and Savage glance over their shoulders at me, and I quickly round the island to join Kace. He pulls me to him and rotates his body, placing himself between me and the island, me and the other two men.
“I wanted to come down after you, but I was trying to respect your space to make a decision.”
I fall in love with him in that moment. Or maybe I fall more in love with him, is the better assessment. Because that’s the thing about Kace. He can be alpha, protective, and even dominant, but chooses the times wisely. He gets me. He reads when not to push. He knows when to give me room to breathe.
My hand goes to his face. “I’m here. Where I belong, right?”
His eyes flash with surprise and approval, a lick of heat between us. “Yes, baby. Yes, you are.”
“And so are they. We need them.” I step around him to face the other two men. “I’m grateful for the help, Blake,” I say, feeling remarkably solid in my decision, but then, I’ve felt myself shifting from flight to fight. “I choose to trust you.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he says. “We won’t let you down.” In that moment, I understand Kace’s trust in this man. There is something about Blake Walker, that screams of loyalty and honor that makes you believe any vow he speaks. “Let’s dig in and find your brother. Let’s start with facts.”
“But first,” Savage says, downing the contents of his cup, “coffee. Who needs more? I need more.” He stands up, and walks to the counter, where the pot sits.
The interruption is oddly timed. I’m not sure if Savage is seeking a lighter mood he feels Blake failed to deliver, or what. Or he’s just Savage, who wants more coffee and could give a damn about timing.
“Obviously,” Kace murmurs in my direction, “he’s been here a few times.”
“Before a few of his concerts,” Savage explains, appearing at the endcap with the pot in hand. “I keep telling him to stock up on some damn Doritos, but he never listens.”
“Could it be that he doesn’t want you to hang around?” Blake asks, his mood all jest. He’s not upset at all. Maybe he, too, thinks we need to soften the mood. I am, admittedly, a bit intense. Or maybe he just really wants coffee, because he slides his cup in Savage’s direction.
“Why the hell wouldn’t he want me to hang around?” Savage demands. “I’m protecting his violin-playing ass.”
Lighter mood achieved. I laugh and Kace also slides his cup in Savage’s direction.
Once cups are filled Savage returns to his spot next to Blake and swigs his coffee. “The next best thing to tequila. After my wife, of course.” He frowns. “And bacon.” He goes to sip again. “And tacos. I do like my tacos.”
“You left out pasta,” I say. “I’m Italian. It’s not respectable to ignore pasta.”
“You cooking?” Savage asks.
“I’m eating,” I say, and everyone laughs, but there is this group shift of mood, a seriousness taking over. “What I need from you, Aria,” Blake says, setting down his mug, “is anything you think will help me find your brother and time to pick your brain, time I know you don’t have today.”
That leads to a back and forth conversation, in which he has me tell him a bit about Gio. I tell him about the way Gio bed hops, the cash deal that happened a few months before Gio disappeared, and Sofia, including showing him and Savage the letter I’ve stuffed into my pocket. Through all of it, Blake and even Savage, are unreadable. They listen. They ask questions. They are completely focused on what I have to offer.
I end my summary with the story of the perfume. “I told them about that and the calls.”
“We pulled the security feed around your building,” Blake says. “We didn’t find anything worth seeing which tells me whoever was there, knew we’d be looking for them on those feeds.”
“And the bastard knew how to hide,” Savage adds.
“I need the time and date stamp on the calls,” Blake says, and when I hand him my phone, he snaps a screenshot of the calls. “You already have my number in that earlier text but I’m adding Savage’s.” He slides my phone back in front of me.
“There was also a big giant man watching me at the pharmacy,” I say. “It was probably the press chasing Kace, but I thought I’d mention it.”