Fire (Beautiful Ashes Series, Book 2)(54)

“Hell yes, I think we all deserve a cold beer.”

Lacey shook her head as she took a seat next to her husband. “Like you need a reason?”

He kissed her cheek. “I didn’t bring out the vodka.”

“Why is that?” She patted his face before turning her attention to Mitch.

Mitch shot E a shit-eating grin. “Because this right here is my beverage of choice.”

E took a big swig. “Damn good pilsner.”

Mitch nodded. “Became my favorite years ago.”

Lacey giggled. “You may have missed your calling, E. Perhaps being a professional taste tester was for you.”

Mitch did not miss the mischievous twinkle in E’s eyes as he licked his lips while staring at his wife. He also didn’t miss the beautiful blush on Lacey’s face. His mind wandered and Shelby took up residence. She was intriguing, gorgeous, and feisty. Fuck, his cock was waking up. Back to business. “Lacey, how the hell did you gather this intel?” He tapped the notebook sitting in front of him.

She dragged her eyes away from E’s and answered, “She’s one of our dancers and is more than willing to go on record.”

Mitch stroked his jaw. “Why’s that?”

Lacey’s entire demeanor shifted. Gone was her flirtatious glances at her husband. She’d even lost the seriousness of a minute past. Now, he saw anger and sadness mixing together in a macabre display. Dear God, how could he have ever forgotten Lacey’s connection in this mess? Yes, she met E—her Mr. Right—but she’d paid her dues. The cost was almost too high. Lest he ever forgot Keeley’s life lay in the balance. Braxton was still after her. And Mitch’s gut told him, she was hiding at least one skeleton in her closet. All of that added to a young woman reeling from drug addiction, alcoholism, and masochistic tendencies. He worried daily that her penchant for self-harm would result in suicide. She was a shattered girl in need of a savior. Once again, he wondered if Tarius McNeil could really handle that kind of responsibility. And as soon as that thought crossed his mind, memories answered it for him: Hell yeah, he could. Yet Mitch was a man of faith, and he knew who and what she really needed. He glanced back at the couple across from him, knowing full-well they too were praying for Keeley to see things clearly.

Lacey pulled him from his musings. “Her best friend went missing a couple of years ago. On her search she stumbled onto things she wished she never knew existed.”

“And the friend?” Mitch was trying his damnedest not to get emotional. Hard, considering Lacey Kincaid was speaking through a clenched jaw and tears were flowing.

E put his arm around her and pulled her close. “You’ve got this, Søta.”

She bobbed her head. “Her body was recovered about six months ago.”

“Who had her?”

Lacey shrugged. “Unsolved.”

E’s gaze was intense as he said, “This has to stop, Mitch. And that girl gave up some important names for you. Key people that you’ve been investigating.”

“Where the fuck is she?”

Lacey stood. “I’ll go get her.”

“Let me give Leith a call to get down here. He needs something to get his mind off Sheridan,” Mitch added.

“I’m so sorry she didn’t pull through,” E affirmed.

“Me too. She sure as hell didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Mitch finished his call watching Lacey walk toward them with a striking woman at her side. The closer she got the more he realized how beautiful she was. Raven curls framed her sweet face and the bluest eyes met his. They weren’t that deep sapphire like Lacey’s or light like any of the Strand brothers. He searched his mind trying to find a shade that matched them, but came up blank. “I’m Mitch Rolston,” holding out his hand as he introduced himself.

“Layla Brennon,” she replied.

Fuck me. That voice of hers was husky and screamed erotic pleasure. His wide eyes met E’s, who only nodded. Yeah, he noticed. Thank God. Mitch was not sexually interested in Miss Brennon any more so than Even Strand was, still, he could appreciate the whole package standing in front of him. “Bring me up to speed,” he said, pulling out a chair for her.

Mitch listened carefully and took notes as Layla gave him missing pieces to the puzzle behind this cartel. She did not know who was running it but was familiar with Braxton. Her hunch was that he was behind her best friend’s death. Mitch agreed with that assumption, but they needed proof. She definitely fit what Braxton was into. According to Layla, Christy looked a good five years younger than her actual age of twenty-one when she disappeared. He learned that the deceased would’ve just celebrated her twenty-fourth birthday last week. “So, you were a stripper?”