Craving Cecilia (The Aces' Sons 6)

“I seriously love that bikini,” I said, looking down between us at the triangles just barely covering her tits.

“This is the last time I’m wearing it,” she huffed, pulling at the strap. “I let them convince me to jump off the rope swing one last time before I left, and the entire thing came undone when I hit the water.”

“Now, that I’d like to see.”

“Oh, I bet.” She rolled her eyes as I leaned down to kiss her.

* * *

Late that night, I sat in the communications room with the team. Ephraim and Josiah had called in to touch base, but they hadn’t had anything to report. Everything was quiet back in San Diego, which made the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

“I’ve spent hours searching through public records,” Wilson said, tilting back and forth in his computer chair, making it squeak. “Free America Militia doesn’t own a damn thing.”

“Great,” Eli muttered.

“However,” Wilson said smugly, “I did uncover some properties that were owned by Mr. Cane Warren, one of which is a large tract of land near the Oregon border.”

“We knew that,” Eli said.

“Furthermore,” Wilson said with forced patience, “I cross referenced that with the owners of land that abut Mr. Warren’s property. That’s where things became slightly more interesting.”

“Good call,” Lu said.

“As always, your praise is effusive and heart warming,” Wilson told her. “I realized that Warren’s property wasn’t nearly as large as we’d anticipated, which got me wondering who owned the property surrounding it. Friends, meet Richard Campbell, Cody Howser, and Benjamin Morris.”

He clicked a key on his computer and three mug shots popped up larger than life on the screens. “Richard, here, was arrested for domestic violence, but lucky for Dick, the charges didn’t stick. Probably because less than a month later, he and his wife and children dropped off the face of the earth. Wonder where they went?” he asked sarcastically. “Cody Howser, arrested for assault in a bar fight, did two years in the pen, and somehow had the funds to buy the property within a year of his release. Interesting, no? Last, but not least, we have Benjamin Morris. Benny, here, is a real peach. He found Jesus while doing six years in federal prison for robbing a bank. His rap sheet is quite the novel. Robbery, assault, attempted murder, drunk driving, intent to distribute—meth, I believe—and various other misdemeanors. He also fell into some cash and was able to buy a large tract of land bordering Warren’s property.”

“Well, aren’t they the picture of Aryan health,” Lu grumbled, staring at the photos. Each man was pale, blue eyed, and handsome. Each had absolutely nothing behind their eyes.

“Warren and his wife obviously never met Cecilia’s parents,” Forrest said, glancing at me. “Hard to miss that her daddy ain’t white.”

“You see her face when she found out Warren was a card carrying racist asshole?” Eli asked. “Shit. I’ve never seen someone’s face pale that quickly.”

“It’s fucked up,” I said with a sigh. “She had no fuckin’ clue—but I’m not surprised. Livin’ and workin’ in southern California, doubt Cane advertised his shitty world view.”

“So what are we lookin’ at here?” I asked Wilson. “What kind of resources do they have?”

“A lot of them,” Wilson said simply. He spun back toward his computer and started typing. “I looked into the son, and he’s a real fuck—a rich one. He got kicked out of so many schools, his father must have paid a fortune to get him to graduation. His accounts are mostly overseas, and they’re hefty and diversified.”

“Shit.”

“And they’re nothing compared to Cane Warren’s,” Wilson said darkly. “He’s set to inherit millions.”

“Which he’s not going to split with a baby,” Lu said.

“I’ve been looking at missing persons databases, narrowing it down to only Caucasian families, then cross checking those with fathers who’d been in the California prison system in the past fifteen years. There’s… a lot.”

“How many?” I asked.

“Hundreds,” Wilson replied. “So, I cross checked it again with those who would’ve been inside with our terrible trio up there.” He jerked his chin at the screens. “Narrowed it down to less than a hundred.”

“That’s good,” Forrest said.

“Not good enough,” Wilson countered. “It’s going to take time for me to filter through all of these.”

“So, we know who some of the main players are, and we know there’s a shit ton of money at stake. Do we have any idea if they’ve got connections anywhere?”

“I am a miracle worker,” Wilson said. “Not a superhero. This type of investigating takes time. It doesn’t help that Casper—that surely isn’t his real name—isn’t telling us what he knows.”

“Bottom line,” Forrest said, “Warren’s son has the money and loyal manpower to keep searching for Cecilia and the baby. He’s not going to stop, not with that kind of money on the line.”