Chapter 13

 

Kairo

Kai followed the bread crumbs left by Rafael da Silva to a small town called Riverbend in Utah. Rafael’s phone was still on, so it hadn’t been difficult to track him. For Kai anyway. Not any ole’ PI off the street could track people via cell phone, but Kai had a buddy at the phone company who also took cash for favors.

Kai was in a pickle. He’d been hired by two different clients to find Rafael da Silva, and he didn’t know who to give the man to. He owed a Hunter a favor, but Damian Corsetti would kill him.

Choices, choices.

Dust swirled and settled on his shitty Ford as he came to a stop outside of the first motel he found. The Bluebird was quaint with its hand-painted signs. A bell above the door jingled as he opened it, and he coughed from the dust in his throat. He spotted an old water cooler in the corner and drank several tiny cups full, the cold water soothing the irritation.

He surveyed his surroundings. Midcentury, not-modern, the place hadn’t been redecorated since the ’70s, at least. Everything was old except for the TV in the corner and the laptop on the counter. The olive-green carpet and wood-paneled walls made him nostalgic, which was odd because he’d never had those things in his home as a child. His mother would have had a coronary.

Music played from somewhere as Kai sauntered over with a big grin. The little guy manning the counter had a nametag that said Rufus, and he squinted at Kai with brown eyes. He was about thirty, Kai guessed.

“Hi, there. I was hoping you could help me.” He leaned on one elbow against the counter, shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “I’m looking for a man named Rafael da Silva. Goes by Rake.” Kai pulled a press clipping from Rake’s last fight and showed it to him.

He studied it while shaking his head. “Nah. He’s not a guest here.”

Kai clicked his tongue in disappointment and put the picture in his pocket. “This is a pretty small town, right?”

Rufus scoffed. “You got that right.”

“Have you heard any rumors about a boxer from Vegas in town?”

Rufus’s face scrunched as he scratched at a patch of uneven stubble. “I haven’t heard anything. Maybe you could try at the Daisy Bell.”

Kai nodded. “And where’s that?”

“Just past Main Street at the curve before the mountain.”

“Well, Rufus, thank you for your help. It’s been a pleasure.” Kai shook the man’s hand with a parting smile. It never hurt to keep the locals on his good side. He was a little surprised Rufus hadn’t asked him who he was, what he wanted, or demanded money for information, but he chalked it up to small-town mentality.

Kai got in his car and wiped at the sweat on his brow. Damn Corsetti. He couldn’t say no, not with what they had on him, but turning Rake over to them would be a shitty thing to do. He recognized da Silva, sort of, through Hunter. Rake was a decent guy, but Kai had no choice.

He banged his fist on the wheel a few times before he pulled out of the lot toward Main Street. The Daisy Bell was exactly where Rufus said it’d be. He parked and got out of the car, nodding and smiling to the locals. Blending in was his specialty, and skulking around while ignoring people would get him noticed.

He pushed his sunglasses up on his head as he entered the restaurant. Forgoing a booth, he chose a seat at the breakfast bar and ordered a coffee with a dash of cinnamon and settled in to wait.

“He looked so good today.” A young man’s voice carried from behind a large silver beverage machine.

“You say that every time he comes in,” came an exasperated female voice. “What I want to know is, who was that hottie with the body with him?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never seen him before. I heard Hank say something about him winning something.”

A man ran over, and in a harsh whisper said, “Jared! Cece! What have I said about gossiping about customers?”

“Do it in the back where they can’t hear us,” they said in unison.

“Exactly.”

Two servers came around the machine and the male jolted at the sight of Kai grinning right at him.

 

***

Rio

 

The drive to Salt Lake took two hours. Not too long, but long enough that Rio found out Rake liked to sing Queen songs. All of them, loudly, with the accompanying guitar solos. Cute, but he had to turn the music off after hour one.

He’d let Judge know they were on their way, so they could meet somewhere private. He’d texted back an address that Rio was pretty sure belonged to Judge’s place. They’d find out soon enough.

“So, tell me about your family. You said your dad works for Corsetti?”

Rake glanced over and sighed. “Yeah. He thinks he’s some big shot mafioso. He’s not. He saw The Godfather one too many times. He launders money and fixes the books. Some of the books, not all.” Rake shook his head. “He had me in training by the time I could walk. I could throw a punch before I could talk. He wanted me to win money, and maybe make a name Corsetti’d want to know.”

“And your mother? You said she left you with your dad.”

Rake nodded. “I don’t remember her. I have a picture, that’s it. Ray said she was a showgirl, but I think he was being generous.”

It took Rio a few seconds to work out what Rake meant. “She was a…” he trailed off.

“Prostitute. Most likely.”

Rio nodded. “Any other family?”

“A couple of cousins and an uncle or two. I only met them a handful of times. I have my manager and Hunter, and a few other casual friends. That’s it.” Rake shifted in his seat to see Rio’s profile. “Tell me. How on earth are you friends with a US Marshal?”

Rio chuckled at the incredulous tone of Rake’s question. “Judge is my sort-of-not-legal stepbrother.” He glanced over at Rake, who raised his brows in question. “His father is in the same traveling hippie commune as my mother.”

Rake’s expression cleared. “Ah, so they”—he made a circle with his fingers and inserted his index finger—“bump it?”

He cleared his throat. “Thank you for that imagery, but yes.”

Rake grinned. “Sorry. That’s cool. And you trust him?”

“I do. He’s loyal, and probably the most honest person I’ve ever met. He can come off as an ass, but he doesn’t mean it that way. He just says whatever he’s thinking.”

“What’s his full name?”

“Jericho Alvarado.”

Rake paused and shook his head, eyes out the window.

“What is it?” Rio took his hand and linked their fingers.

“Will he be able to do anything against Corsetti?”

“I hope so, but if not, he has a boss and he’ll know who to talk to.”

Rake squeezed his hand. “Okay. Thank you for doing this. I know you said you’d help even if we weren’t dating or whatever we’re doing, but I really appreciate this even though we just met. You’re a good person, Rio Danvers.”

“I’m glad I can help.”

He pulled into a gated condo complex and parked in the numbered spot associated with Judge’s apartment. They got out and followed the walkway around to the foyer entrance. Rio pushed the elevator button and the doors slid open. Rio stepped in and hit three for Judge’s floor, and the elevator rose without a hitch. No front-door security, but the place was nice. The doors opened to a hallway with laminate floors and framed portraits on the walls, of generic beaches. They must have figured people got enough of mountains and deserts in Utah.

Rio knocked on Judge’s door. No sounds came from within, but the door flew open and he was engulfed in his friend’s arms.

“Ha ha! Rio, you elusive son of a bitch! Where the hell have you been?”

“At home. Where else?” Rio slapped Judge on the back and disentangled himself. “It’s good to see you. Judge, this is Rafael da Silva. He goes by Rake.”

They shook. “Nice to meet you,” Rake said.

“You too. Come in. Want a beer?”

“Sure, thanks.”

“Rio?”

“Water.” Having never been to this new condo, Rio was curious. Several of the pieces he and Fox made sat on light hardwood floors with colorful area rugs. Pictures of friends and family were scattered around, and a flat-screen TV hung on the wall over a black console.

“So, Rake. What sort of trouble are you in?”

Rake stood next to Rio, near the breakfast bar, as Judge set their drinks in front of them. He looked the same as the last time Rio had seen him. Taller than him at six two, with hard muscles honed from training and fighting in the Seals. His brown hair was cut short, and he still had that patented, full-lipped, sarcastic grin. His eyes made Rio pause. The usual mischievous twinkle wasn’t there.

“How did you know I was in trouble?” Rake asked.

Judge slid his gaze to Rio and winked. “Rio wouldn’t have brought you here so suddenly if you weren’t.”

“Well, uh, it’s a long story, but the short version is I’m running from Damian Corsetti. He’s trying to blackmail me into working for him.” Rake ran nervous fingers through his hair.

Judge crossed his arms and scowled. “Corsetti? I’ve heard of him. He’s a mob boss in Vegas. Blackmailed with what?”

“Maybe blackmailed isn’t the right word. Extorting or whatever it’s called. He wants a sixty-five percent cut of my fight winnings.” He twisted his bottle around and around. “My father works for him, and he’ll hurt or kill my best friend if I fight back. And he’s going to come after me if I don’t pay him.”

Judge stared at Rake. “Are you willing to testify against your father if it comes to that?”