“That’s where she belongs,” Travis snapped, leaning forward and slamming his palms on the desk.
“I don’t disagree with you.” He kept his eyes locked with Travis’s. “Keep in mind, there are a lot of eyes on this right now. Not only local law enforcement but also the feds. Not to mention the media.”
“What do you want from me, Brantley?” Travis’s eyes narrowed. “It’s been forty-two days since my wife was murdered. Forty-two days that you and your team have been searchin’ for the woman responsible. That’s forty-two days longer than I care for.”
Brantley knew there was nothing he could say to that. It was true. They’d been working day and night—for far longer than forty-two days—utilizing all the tools they had to find the woman. As much as he would’ve preferred Juliet Prince be an idiot, she was proving to have some skills. At the very least, a very strong survival instinct.
“It’s time we finish this,” Travis continued. “Once and for all.”
It was obvious Travis wasn’t referring to having the woman arrested and spending God only knows how long waiting for her to be found guilty by a jury of her peers. And because it was hanging in the tension-filled air, Brantley decided to broach it as straightforward as he knew how.
“I get it,” he said softly. “I really do. No, I haven’t lost a spouse, but I have lost people I was close to. The rage, once it kicks in, it burns hot. And trust me when I tell you, I’d be thinkin’ the same thing if I lost Reese.”
Travis’s eyes narrowed slightly, almost imperceptibly. As though he’d been gearing up to argue but changed his mind.
“I haven’t been with him for seven years or even seven months, but I love him. Hell, I’d give my life for his. So we’re on the same page there. What we’re not on the same page with is how you go about this.”
To his surprise, Travis didn’t speak.
“You mentioned needin’ an alibi before. You and I both know you weren’t blowin’ smoke up my ass. What I need is for you to remember you have a husband and five kids at home, Travis. Five. They’re already sufferin’ enough. Don’t make it worse.”
“Then I suggest you find her.”
“I intend to,” he bit out, getting to his feet. “And when I do, you’ll be able to tell your children she got what she deserved. Just stay out of it. Take care of the ones who need you most right now. Let us deal with this.”
Brantley didn’t wait for a retort, knowing he wouldn’t like whatever Travis had to say. He’d said his piece.
Now it was time he did something to prove to Travis he could be trusted to take care of shit.
*
After Brantley left, Travis could hear conversations taking place in the hall outside his office. He wasn’t sure if it was his cousin chatting with others or if it was merely business taking place. It didn’t matter to him either way, so he didn’t bother to get up to see if they needed his help. Rather, he remained in his chair, staring out the window overlooking the outdoor space still glittering with ice as he tried to figure out what he’d ever found appealing about this place.
Alluring Indulgence Resort had been his baby. He could still remember back in the planning phase, before the enormous structure ever got off the ground. He remembered conversations with the city council, the mayor, and the residents whose land was adjacent to where he wanted to build. It had been exciting back then, an endeavor unlike anything he’d ever done before.
He honestly expected he would always be in love with it, find comfort within the walls. Over the years, he’d opened it up for family gatherings, utilizing the space to accommodate all who wanted to come. And yes, he’d made a lot of money from the idea and had invested just as much.
For what?
What the fuck had he accomplished by creating a fetish resort? Hell, if he had to guess, he’d ruined more lives than not. All those people who’d come here seeking an experience they couldn’t find anywhere else. Did they go home satisfied? If so, how long had it lasted? Was there a long list of disgruntled spouses who wished Travis and his family dead?
He swallowed down the emotion that still lodged in his throat when he thought about his beautiful Kylie.
Turning in his chair, he stared at the picture of her on his desk.
“I miss you, baby,” he whispered, the same as he did every single day. He prayed to a God he wasn’t on good terms with, willing him to take care of her now. Everyone knew Travis had failed in doing so.
A knock on his door dragged his attention from the photograph. “Yeah. Come in.”
The door opened and Gage strolled in.
Travis immediately sat up straight, surprised to see him.
“Kaleb needs those forms signed.”
No greeting, no smile, just right to the point. Exactly as things had been for the past month, more so since he’d revealed that letter Kylie had left for them.
Travis pushed the pile of papers in Gage’s direction. “Anything else?”
There was fire in Gage’s brown eyes when he met Travis’s gaze. “No.”
Nodding because he knew it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good to pick a fight, Travis leaned back and waited for Gage to leave. If the past few weeks were anything to go by, he wouldn’t be sticking around to strike up a conversation. Hell, they hadn’t said more than ten words at a time to one another since they buried their wife. Unless, of course, it pertained to the kids, but even those conversations were light on words.
Oh, but they’d done some silent communicating. Sex had become Gage’s go-to topic. Every time Travis turned around, there his husband was, eager and ready for some down and dirty, angry sex. Of course, Travis hadn’t bothered to tell Gage he didn’t appreciate being used. Hell no. Why would he go and do something stupid like that? And risk Gage turning his back on him for good?
No, these days, Travis found himself waiting around, almost desperate for that little bit of physical contact because it was the only time he felt even remotely human. The rest of the time, he was simply going through the motions, feeling empty, bitter, and cold.
Just as he predicted, Gage turned and strolled back to the door, those fucking forms in hand. When he reached it, he paused for a second, glancing back over his shoulder. “You need to go by your parents’ after work. Pick up Maddox.”
“Will do,” he replied, just as he did every other time Gage issued an order.
Gage nodded, then disappeared.
When he was alone once again, Travis glanced at Kylie’s photograph, and not for the first time, he wished she was here to take care of Gage and the kids. They deserved that. They deserved her.
Instead, they were stuck with him and he was doing a shitty job.
Two hours later, Travis was pulling into his parents’ driveway. All the lights were on in their two-story farmhouse with its wraparound porch, but there were no extra vehicles parked nearby. Being that it was Saturday, he had expected at least one of his brothers to be there, probably with a kid or two in tow.
Instead, he found his father sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch, coat and boots on, an insulated travel mug on the little square table beside him, steam coming out of the lid.
“Hey, Pop. You come outside for some peace and quiet? Or just to freeze your ass off?”