“My brother,” Mac said, relief softening his features.
“Brother, huh? I’ve met your brother. This isn’t him.” Freddie jerked a thumb in Grant’s direction. “He looks like a cop.”
“You met Lee. This is my other brother.” Mac shook his head. “Grant’s military. Been in Iraq and Afghanistan.”
Freddie nodded, his suspicion morphing into something else. Respect? “Man, thanks for your service.”
And that was the absolute last thing Grant expected to hear. “Uh, you’re welcome.”
“Let’s go somewhere more private.” Freddie looped an arm around Mac’s shoulders and steered him past the barrel fire to the rail car. They hoisted themselves inside. The interior had been fitted out with discarded upholstered furniture. A makeshift table held ziplock bags of pot and white powder. Two guys with assault rifles lounged behind the tables. A third man, nearly as large as Freddie, counted bags and stuffed them into a duffel bag. His blond hair was cut in a razor-sharp style that could have graced the cover of Esquire. Instead of the leather look favored by the rest of Freddie’s men, this man wore European casual: dark jeans and a white shirt open at the neck. Though they were dressed as complete opposites, this man had to be related to Freddie. His son, Grant bet.
He looked up as they entered. A smile split his face. “Mac!”
“Rafe, how the hell are you?” Mac gave Rafe a shoulder-slapping, one-armed man hug.
Grant looked away. He had no idea Mac had been involved with a drug dealer of this scale. Freddie had said he’d met Lee. Looked like Lee had kept the truth from Grant.
Mac dropped into a chair, far too comfortable for Grant’s comfort.
Freddie frowned from Grant to the drug display. “You sure he’s not a cop?”
“Positive,” Mac said.
“Dad, it’s Mac,” Rafe protested. “He wouldn’t bring a cop here.”
Grant leaned on the wall, tried to look casual, and lied. “I could care less about your business dealings.”
“Then why are you here?” Freddie crossed massive arms over his chest. “I’d like to think you just came for a visit, but you look like you’re on a mission.”
“You’re right.” Mac leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “We’re looking for a guy.”
Freddie nodded. “What’d he do?”
Mac pulled the folded computer paper out of his pocket and handed it to Freddie. “He killed our brother Lee, the one you met when he helped me and Rafe out of that . . . predicament years back.”
Freddie unfolded the paper and frowned. He stroked his beard.
“Do you know him?” Mac asked.
“He looks familiar.” Freddie’s gray eyes remained impassive. He passed the paper to Rafe, who scanned the paper without exhibiting any tells.
“Can I keep this?” Freddie asked as Rafe handed the picture back.
“Yes,” Mac said.
Freddie refolded the paper. “I’ll get word to you tomorrow. Where are you staying?”
“Lee’s house.” Mac placed his palms on his thighs. “I appreciate your help.”
Freddie rested a hand on Mac’s shoulder, the gesture filled with fatherly affection. “Man, I owe you. You know that.”
“Actually, I owe him,” Rafe corrected. “It was my life he saved.”
Freddie’s eyes misted as he glanced at his son. He swallowed and turned back to Mac. “I will have something for you tomorrow. But we have one other piece of business to discuss.”
Grant tensed.
“Your dead brother owes me twenty grand,” Freddie said. “Money lending isn’t normally a business I engage in, but I did it as a favor because of how he helped Rafe out that time.”
“I assume the debt is transferrable,” Grant said. On the bright side, if Lee had borrowed the money from Freddie, he hadn’t stolen it. Lee must have been desperate to go to Freddie for money. Why hadn’t he called Grant or Hannah? Had he been too embarrassed? Or didn’t he feel comfortable asking his family for money? Either way, they’d failed him.
“This is business.” Freddie shrugged. “But since you’re practically family, I’ll waive the interest if you can pay the debt by the end of the week.”
“If we can’t?” Grant asked.
Freddie’s eyes darkened. “Penalties for nonpayment are steep.”
“Don’t worry. We’re good for it.” Mac slapped Freddie on the shoulder. “Thanks for your help.”
Rafe escorted them back through the freight car gauntlet. When they reached the fence, he offered Grant a hand.
Grant shook it. Yes, he’d been appalled at the drugs in the train. Freddie and Son Inc. were probably dealing guns, too. Drugs and arms went together like macaroni and cheese. And now they had to come up with twenty thousand dollars in the next week. But if it meant finding Donnie Ehrlich, Grant would willingly make a pact with Satan.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I hate waiting.” Ellie paced the tiny office.
Grant closed the laptop. “You need to do something.”
But mostly what they were doing was waiting. Waiting for the Hamiltons to return Ellie’s call. Waiting for tomorrow morning, when Mac’s friend promised them information. And waiting for her thirty-six-hour agreement with Grant to run out. “I would have gone with you this morning if I’d known where you were headed.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you. Mac’s friend doesn’t trust strangers. It could have been dangerous.”
Ellie stopped and faced him. “Please don’t lie to me again.”
“I won’t.”
But her trust was as thin and delicate as an eggshell. It wouldn’t take much to crack it. A betrayal from Grant would hurt. He was the first man to inspire faith from her since Julia’s father left.
“I can’t even run the vacuum.” Hands clasped behind her back, she pivoted and strode in the other direction. “We can’t make any noise.”
Faith snoozed in her baby seat in the family room. As they’d all learned the hard way, as backward as it seemed, being overtired or overstimulated aggravated the baby’s colic.
“I’m used to a full hour of PT every morning. Being cooped up is driving me nuts, too. The only exercise I’ve gotten lately is baby-walking.” Grant stood and stretched. “What do you normally do for exercise?”
Ellie watched his muscles ripple and flex under his snug T-shirt, her bundled nerves imagining a highly inappropriate outlet for her excess energy. “Renovations.”
“Construction as exercise?” Grant laughed.
“It would be great to accomplish something.” The case infused her with a sense of futility and helplessness. “I’m used to being busy. I can’t handle downtime.”
He smiled. “I doubt there are many things you can’t handle.”
At the moment, there was only one thing she wanted to handle.
Where did that come from?
Ellie coughed. She should get out of this small space, where his big, hard body was never more than a few feet away. He clearly hadn’t meant his compliment to be dirty, but her undersexed and overactive mind was on a roll. But sex was never simple, and with Grant, she knew intimacy would be even more complicated. She simply felt too much for him.
“I should go set the table or something.” Her mind was still focused on handling him, but she opened the door and headed for the kitchen. She’d already put the mac-and-cheese casserole together that morning, and there was a cold ham in the fridge waiting for dinnertime. Maybe two kids and her grandmother would be ice water for her libido.
“Wait. We have a little time before dinner.” He crossed to the window and peered through the blinds. “Do you really want to go work on your house?”
“Yes. That’s normally what I do when I’m not at work.”
“Come on.” He took her hand and tugged her out of the office. “There’s a cop parked in the driveway. We’ll let him know we’ll be next door for a while.”
They stopped in the kitchen. Hannah typed on her laptop at the table.
“Ellie needs to go to her house for a little while. I’m going with her. Can you manage things here?” Grant asked in a hushed voice.
Hannah glanced into the adjoining family room. Nan watched TV from the couch, her booted foot elevated on a pillow. Also within view, Faith snoozed in her baby seat. Mac, Julia, and Carson were upstairs playing a board game in Carson’s room.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Hannah whispered.
“Thanks,” Grant said. “The alarm will be on. Call me if you need anything.”
With her hand still held tightly in his, they walked out the front door. Grant pressed the fob to reset the security system. He stopped to tell the cop in the driveway then pulled Ellie toward her house. Inside he checked every room before they settled in the living room.
“What are you working on?”
Ellie stood in the center of the room and surveyed her progress. “I was filling holes in the wallboard and sanding the trim, but that’s nearly done.”
“What’s next, painting?”