I firmly thrust that line of thought from my mind as we strode to the hostess of the restaurant. She looked us up and down, and yet her expression didn’t change.
“Mr. Weston?” she said finally with a smile.
Colt’s grin was arrogant. “Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”
“Mr. Campbell is expecting you. Please, follow me.” She ushered us through the busy restaurant to the back. Opening a door, she gestured for us to enter a private dining room.
An attractive man, with dark hair and cobalt blue eyes, rose from his chair and buttoned the middle suit button of his gray jacket. An auburn haired woman sat in the seat next to him but didn’t move to stand.
“Thank ye, Janet,” he said, his voice thick and husky with a Scottish brogue.
“Will that be all, Mr. Campbell?”
“Aye.”
Janet left and shut the door.
My eyes darted between Mr. Campbell and the woman who had taken her time rising from her chair. She was stunning and regal, and though we were the same height, it was only because my boots put us at eye-level. Her auburn hair hung in loose waves about her shoulders, her white, asymmetrical gown more suited for a gala than a sit-down dinner.
As if noticing my hesitation, her smile widened in a show of genuine welcome. She came toward me, hand held out. “Hi, I’m Barrett.”
Her lack of formality surprised me. Taking her palm, I gripped it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mia.”
“I love your boots,” she said, eyeing the studded footwear Colt had bought me. “They look like they’re made for stomping on hearts.”
I laughed. “I feel very under dressed.”
She dismissed my statement with a nod of her queenly head. “Knowing Colt, he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a suit.”
“Your wife knows me well, Campbell,” Colt drawled.
Campbell grinned and looked at me. “It’s good to meet you, Mia. Call me Flynn.”
“How are the boys?” Colt asked Barrett.
“Driving us both to drink,” she said with a wink. She turned to me and explained, “We have three boys under the age of five.”
“That sounds like a handful,” I said. I tried to hide my astonishment. The woman standing in front of me had three children? I never would’ve guessed it judging by her trim, elegant figure.
Flynn pulled Barrett to his side and draped an arm around her. She placed her left hand on his chest, and I immediately noticed that her wedding band was demure and elegant. These people, despite the hotel empire they ran, were not gaudy and I began to relax.
“What, you don’t say hello to me anymore?” Colt asked as he raised an eyebrow at Flynn.
Flynn rubbed his jaw, pretending not to smile. “If I jumped into your arms, could you catch me?”
“Let’s find out,” Colt shot back.
“Let’s not,” Barrett interrupted.
Flynn let go of his wife and then approached Colt. The two men stared at each other for a moment before they engaged in a manly bro hug.
“You look well,” Flynn said, peering at Colt a moment before shifting his gaze to me. “Are you keeping this one in order?”
“As much as Barrett keeps you in order, I’m sure,” I quipped, causing laughter to ring out.
Flynn waved us all to the set table. White china, white tablecloth, goblets trimmed with gold.
Colt surprised me by helping me with my chair. I gazed up at him in astonishment.
Leaning down, he whispered, “I can be a gentleman if I need to be.”
“Please, don’t ever be a gentleman,” I replied, reaching up to touch his cheek. Turning my attention back to the other occupants, I froze. Barrett and Flynn were both staring at us.
Colt took his seat next to me and then placed the black linen napkin across his lap.
“Your boys arrived,” Flynn said. “They’re currently drinking some of my best scotch in the club.”
“Club? What club?” I asked.
“There’s a burlesque club attached to the hotel,” Flynn explained. “There’s also a rooftop Whiskey Room—but I think that’s better suited for later this evening when you want discuss business.”
“You brought your sister to Dallas for a night out and now she’s stuck with a bunch of rowdy bikers in a burlesque club?” I glanced at Colt. “How is that a good idea?”
“She’ll be fine.”
“You didn’t tell me he was bringing his sister,” Barrett said, looking to her husband.
His gaze swiveled to her. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
“Joni’s fine,” Colt stated.
“I’m checking on her after dinner,” I said. “Besides, I want to see this burlesque club.”
“I’ll be glad to show it to you,” Barrett said.
“What rare delicacy are you going to force me to eat?” Colt demanded.
“Duck,” Barrett announced.
“Did Duncan shoot it?”
“No,” Flynn replied, amused.
“Duncan is Flynn’s best friend—and surrogate brother,” Barrett said. “Who happens to also be married to my best friend.”
“Tight knit family, huh?” I asked.
“Very,” Barrett said with a wink.
“How is Duncan? And Ash,” Colt added.
“Good. Got their hands full with the bairns.”
“And Ramsey? How’s he doin’?”
“Ramsey is Ramsey.” Flynn shrugged.
“Ramsey is?” I pressed.
“Duncan’s younger brother,” Flynn said to me.
“Is it too late to ask for a diagram of the family tree?”
Barrett laughed. “It’s hard when you don’t have faces to go with the names.”
There was a knock on the door and Flynn called out, “Come in.”
The door opened and two servers in formal clothing pushed in a cart.
“Butternut ginger soup with a crème fraîche garnish,” one server said as his companion poured a light, almost clear white wine.
“Enjoy.”
They took the cart and left, closing the door after them. I took a moment to savor the soup, noting that Flynn wasn’t eating. Neither was Colt.
Barrett caught my eye and winked. I smiled at her.
“So,” Flynn began. “Should we get down to it?”
“Yeah,” Colt agreed.
Flynn’s eyes slid to mine and then back to Colt. “Do you want to have this conversation in front of her?”
“Mia’s got my ink,” Colt explained. He gestured with his chin to Barrett. “You have your wife sit in on meetings.”
“I’ve come to appreciate her council,” Flynn said, his brogue thick.
Barrett rolled her eyes but said nothing.
“This shit involves Mia. I told you some of it on the phone.”
“Aye.” Flynn nodded. “Go on.”
“I’ve got a big fucking problem.”
“Big, like you need an influx of illegal arms to fight someone, or big like you need someone to disappear?” Flynn asked.
“Big, like there’s a cartel in Waco’s backyard big.”
“Which cartel?” Flynn asked, his tone blasé like he was discussing the weather.