Swear (Landry Family 4)

I turn to see Nate, if his name tag reads correctly, looking between the four of us. His eyes are assessing, trying to figure out what we’re doing here.

“Four shots of tequila,” Lincoln relays. “You have any Patrón?”

Nate gives Lincoln a look as if to say, “Really?” Muttering something under his breath, he turns to the cabinet behind him. After a few seconds of rummaging, he pulls out a bottle and blows a layer of dust off it. “Yup.”

“We’ll have that and give the asshole to my right a double,” Lincoln says.

“Fuck you,” I laugh. But before I can change the order, Nate is down the bar.

“Tequila, Lincoln? Really?” Barrett asks. “Do you know the last time I’ve shot tequila?”

“Not my fault you’re a proper politician these days,” Lincoln winks. “Besides, don’t you want to see Ford and Graham get all fucked up?”

“I will not be getting fucked up.” Graham shoots Lincoln a look. “Now focus, boys. Let’s do some . . . what do you call it, Ford?”

“Recon. We’re on a recon mission.”

The shot glasses are placed in front of each of us, Barrett’s spilling over a little. Troy looks concerned when Lincoln asks that the bottle be left in front of him.

We raise our drinks and shoot them at the same time. It’s not so bad going down, but I forgot the fire once you open your mouth.

“Ugh,” I say, licking my lips. “I hate that shit.”

“Purifies your blood,” Lincoln laughs. He points at Graham. “Want another one?

“When in Rome . . .” He holds out his glass and Lincoln fills it back up.

“Fuck it.” Barrett offers his up for a refill too. “Give some to Ford. Don’t leave him out.”

“I’d never leave him out,” he grins. “He’s the one I’d like to get bombed.”

“Good luck,” I snort.

The clear liquid fills the glass again. I cringe as my brothers wait for me to lift it to my lips. It goes down a little better than the first, but still tastes awful. The glass clinks against the bar top as I feel the fire again.

“All right. Now to business,” Barrett says. He looks around the room and I follow suit.

There’s an exit sign behind us that’s dimly lit. Over by the nook holding the stripper pole, there’s a nondescript door.

“Wonder where that leads?” I say, moving my eyes that way. “Door to the left. By the pink chandelier.”

“How do we even know if she was here specifically?” Barrett asks. “Maybe she got dropped off here and went elsewhere.”

“Yeah. Because if you were getting picked up by someone, this is the place you’d choose,” I say sarcastically. “The only reason you’d be here is to be here.”

Lincoln pours everyone another shot and we take this one without thought. He looks proud.

“Hey, Nate!” Lincoln calls.

The bartender makes his way to us, looking irritated. “What’s up?”

“We’re looking for someone,” Lincoln says.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Hey! That’s a good one,” Lincoln laughs. “But we really are. She’s short, blonde, green eyes. A pain in the fucking ass.”

“A set of bi