One errand down, one to go.
Before leaving the parking lot, Levi texted Clay: Are you around? I need to talk to you.
Clay’s response came back within seconds. I’m at the bar doing inventory. Is everything okay?
It wasn’t hard to imagine Clay’s worried expression. Old habits died hard for his oldest brother, who’d spent most of his life taking care of, and looking after, Mason and Levi. Everything is fine. I just need to ask a favor. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
Levi drove toward the bar that his brother owned. Kincaid’s was located in a more run-down part of the city, and even though Clay had inherited a shitload of money from the previous owner, along with the bar, he refused to move the place to a better area. Clay didn’t need or want much, but he enjoyed the bar and patrons, though he spent a lot less time there now that he and Samantha were married.
When Levi arrived at Kincaid’s, he used the back door to the bar, knowing that it remained open during the early afternoon hours for deliveries. He found Clay in his office, sitting behind his desk and inputting information into his computer. He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe to announce his presence, and his brother glanced up and waved him into the room.
“Hey,” Clay greete
d as Levi settled into one of the chairs in front of his brother’s desk. “How are the fractured ribs?”
“Still sore and bruised,” Levi said with a shrug, indulging his brother with the initial small talk. “But nothing I can’t deal with.”
A wry grin eased across Clay’s lips. “You and I both know if that had happened to Mason, he would have been whining to both of us every single fucking day about every little ache and pain.”
Levi laughed in agreement, because despite acting tough, their middle brother was far more melodramatic than the two of them had ever been. “That’s why I’m the cop, and not him.” Fucking pussy.
“Speaking of which . . . when do you go back to work?”
“Another two or three weeks, after my doctor clears me for duty again.”
Clay raised an inquisitive brow. “Are you bored out of your mind yet?”
Levi had been heading in the direction of boredom, until everything with Sarah had given him something to focus on. “Actually, the past few days have been . . . interesting, and I’m not talking about that ambush of nosey women arriving on my doorstep on Saturday,” he said pointedly, because Clay’s wife had been a part of that posse of inquisitive females.
Clay chuckled and held up his hands, absolving himself of that decision. “I had nothing to do with it. Mason is on a fact-finding mission about your mystery woman. He’s dying to know what’s going on between the two of you.”
Levi smirked as he stretched his legs out in front of him. “I’m sure he was disappointed when Katrina came home without any top-secret information about Sarah.”
His older brother inclined his head to confirm Levi’s suspicions, but Clay didn’t press for more details, even if his gaze was brimming with curiosity about the woman he’d met at the hospital. Instead, he changed the subject, which really didn’t change the direction of the conversation at all since it was all about Sarah.
“So . . . you’re not one to ask for favors,” Clay finally said as he leaned back in his leather chair and regarded Levi speculatively. “What’s up?”
Levi got right to the point. “I need you to hire Sarah as a cocktail waitress at Kincaid’s.”
Clay’s mouth opened, then shut again, clearly taken aback by the unexpected request. And clearly shocked that Levi’s favor was all about the woman they’d just been discussing.
Finally, after a few quiet moments had passed, his brother spoke.
“Why do you need me to hire her?” Clay asked.
His brother didn’t hesitate to point out the strong and direct language Levi had used when most people would have asked the question in a more casual manner, like, “Would you be able to hire Sarah?” The word need implied an emotional connection to Sarah, as well as a personal stake in what happened to her.
And he couldn’t deny that he felt both of those sentiments.
Clay was waiting for an answer, and Levi knew he owed him an explanation, which would also help his brother to better understand the situation. “For starters, Sarah works at the Circle K where I was shot.”
“She was the one who was getting robbed the night you were there, right?” he asked, remembering what Sarah had told him at the hospital.
“Yes. The asshole had a fucking gun pointed to her head,” Levi said, uncaring of how protective he sounded. “The mart is also in a shitty part of Englewood, and I’d feel much better if she worked somewhere . . . safe.”
“Where you can keep an eye on her?” Clay asked with a raised brow.
“Where she’s surrounded by people I trust,” he clarified. “Also, she’s been living in a motel for well over a month, and it’s the kind that rents by the hour because that’s all she can afford.”