Ian snorted. “That didn’t work on me when we were kids. What makes you think it’s going to work on me now?”
Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m bigger and stronger.”
Ian threw his head back and laughed. “You want to bet?”
“Bring it on, Railings. I could take you on when you were a kid, and I can still take you on as an adult.”
Jeff brought the beer up to his lips and took a long swig. “I don’t like those odds, man. Ian’s a cop now. You know how hard they train and how much exercise they get in.”
“Realtors train too.” Jonathan rolled his shoulders and held his arms up on either side of him. “Let’s just make sure O’Malley doesn’t catch us, or he’ll kick us all out.”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “I’ll be on the lookout.”
Jonathan lunged at Ian. He held himself perfectly still until his cousin was close, then he took a step to the side and held a leg out. Jonathan kept himself from tripping, scowled, and spun around to face Ian, an exasperated gleam in his eyes. Then, the two of them were spinning in a circle, with Ian being held in a headlock by his much larger and much stronger cousin.
He had definitely underestimated Jonathan.
Being a realtor at Wilson Realty suited him, and he was in surprisingly good shape for someone who didn’t like to exercise. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he shoved Jonathan away and staggered back, nearly landing backward on a table. The couple sitting a few feet away from them grumbled, and Ian offered them an apology.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw O’Malley, the owner of the pub, in a button-down shirt, jeans, and a tightness around his eyes. “You know the rules, fellas. No fighting in the pub. You got issues, take it outside, or take it out on the dartboard.”
Jonathan dusted himself off and grinned. “No fights here, Mr. O’Malley, just a bunch of cousins roughhousing. That’s all.”
“No roughhousing either,” O’Malley said with a quick look between the three of them. “You should know better, Ian.”
Ian grimaced and looked away. “Yeah, you’re right. I should.”
When Mr. O’Malley walked away, his cousins flapped their arms at their sides and made clucking noises. Ian scowled and lunged, but they hid behind a table. Once they felt Mr. O’Malley’s patience wearing thin, the three of them lined up in front of the dartboard in a secluded part of the pub near the bathroom and stopped trying to goad each other.
Country music played through the overhead speakers while the three of them took shots and drank beer. By his third beer, Ian had a pleasant buzz, and he had all but forgotten about his phone until Jonathan fished it out of his pocket and handed it over with a roll of his eyes.
Ian’s easygoing smile vanished when he saw the message on his screen.
“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Jeff peered over his shoulder and frowned. “Is that the PI’s son that you were telling us about? The one with the evidence?”
“He said he’d check his father’s old case files. I guess he found something.” Ian read the message again and ignored the quickening of his pulse. “Tomorrow’s my day off. I’ll drive down and meet him.”
“Looks like we’re going on a road trip.” Jonathan gestured to a red-haired waitress and made a sweeping hand gesture. “Another round of drinks, please.”
“We?” Ian shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked at his cousins, bathed in the dim, fluorescent lighting of the pub.
Over their shoulders, he spotted his uncle Frankie seated at the bar, a beer in one hand and peanuts in the other. He waved at them before his expression turned grim. After taking another swig of his beer, he strode over to where they stood and clapped Ian on the back.
Uncle Frankie took another sip of his drink. “We should take my car. It gets better mileage.”
“Yeah, we’re not going to let you go alone,” Jonathan told him, pausing to take a long sip of his beer. “You can pass by and pick us up in the morning.”
Ian exhaled. “You guys aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope. So, you might as well make your peace with it.” Jeff picked up a dart and aimed it; it landed directly in the middle. “What’s your policy on snacks in the car?”
“I can talk to him,” Uncle Frankie offered, meeting Ian’s gaze in the rearview mirror. He rolled the windows and shivered. “I know how to handle guys like that.”
Ian shook his head and turned up the heater. “Don’t worry, Uncle Frankie. I’ve got this.”
Having his two cousins and Uncle Frankie along wasn’t a part of the plan.
And the last thing he wanted was to scare Bryce Rolland into thinking he was being ambushed. It had been a week since their last meeting, and Ian had already given up hope and done everything he could to push it all to the back of his mind.
