I heard the bed shift and I automatically pulled my gun back out and waited. I didn’t really need the weapon, but I always felt better when it was in my hands.
Tate turned off the light as he pulled the door almost all the way shut. I could see a dim blue light coming from the room and I suspected it was a night light of some kind. Tate’s whole body drew up tight as he turned his attention on me.
“Kitchen,” I said as I waited for him to move past me.
Tate did as I said and I followed him to the kitchen and motioned to one of the two vinyl chairs. The décor of the apartment left no doubt that the dump had either come furnished that way or the man was a thrift store shopper. The only light that was on in the kitchen was the one above the stove so I flipped on the overhead light and went to sit down across from Tate. He had his hands fisted on his thighs but his eyes were darting around the kitchen.
“Don’t bother,” I muttered as I laid my gun down on the table in front of me and leaned back in the squeaky chair.
“What?” Tate asked cautiously.
“Looking for a weapon,” I said. The flash of guilt in Tate’s eyes was brief, but then he stiffened. Gone was the man who was terrified for his kid. The man in front of me was…determined. It was the only word I could come up with for the way he pinned me with his gaze. A strange fluttering sparked in my gut.
“Where are they?” I asked, ignoring the unexpected sensation.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. His eyes were on my fingers which were resting near the butt of my gun. “I haven’t seen them in a couple of years.”
“You really want to make that kid in there an orphan?” I threatened as I motioned towards Matty’s room.
Tate paled and swallowed hard but as scared as he was, he didn’t take his eyes off me. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Then tell me more of it.”
“The last time I spoke to my father and Denny was right before I left home with Matty.”
“Where’s home?”
“Lulling, Texas.”
“Never heard of it,” I said.
“You wouldn’t,” Tate quipped. “It’s barely even a dot on the map…unless you’re looking for Crystal Meth…then it’s Mecca.”
“Your family deals meth?”
“Don’t call them that,” Tate ordered softly. “Those men were never my family.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, but the hatred in Tate’s voice was clear. And it was a good sign for me. “They’re dealers?”
Tate nodded.
“They use too?”
“Denny does…at least he did the last time I saw him.”
“And your father?”
Tate stiffened but didn’t contradict me. “No,” was all he said.
“What’s his name?”
“Dennis Buckley,” Tate responded. “Everyone calls him Buck.”
“That lady called you Travers,” I said as I thought back to the woman who had been watching Tate’s son. Tate remained stubbornly silent. Since my question had been asked out of curiosity rather than necessity, I let it go.
“How did you find me?” Tate asked suddenly.
I studied him for a long moment. “Your DNA was a partial match to the DNA left at a crime scene.”
“A murder, you mean,” Tate murmured. “How did you get my DNA?”
I ignored the question and studied Tate. He was sitting calmly in the chair, but I could see a slight shudder roll through his frame every now and then and he kept shifting his eyes nervously towards his son’s room before moving them back to me as subtly as he could, as if he was somehow hoping I’d forgotten about his son’s presence. I felt a shimmer of pity for him at the fear he must be feeling, not for himself but for his kid.
It wasn’t until Tate again glanced at Matty’s room that I finally noticed what had been bothering me from the moment we’d sat down at the table. Tate’s eyes – they didn’t match. One was a startling bright blue while the other was a soft, subtle golden brown color. The contrast was intriguing…so intriguing that I caught myself staring at him as warmth settled in my belly.
What the fuck?
“I don’t know what else to tell you.”
It took me a moment to process Tate’s words because as soon as I’d managed to tear my eyes from his, I was dropping them to his mouth. His lips were fuller than I would have expected to see on a man.
“You don’t seem surprised to learn your father and brother are wanted for murder,” I managed to say as I forced my eyes away from his mouth.
“Sir-”
“It’s Hawke,” I interrupted, though I wasn’t sure why I’d told him that since my name was of no importance in the situation. In fact, it was downright stupid to give the man any clue to my identity.