Platinum stared at the man across the table and tried to think of all the reasons why killing him was a bad idea. One—they were in public. He actually liked coming to Bone Daddy’s. Getting kicked out for attempted murder would greatly affect the bars he could go locally to have fun. Bone Daddy’s was pretty much it.
Oh who was he kidding? If he took the son of a bitch down, the charge wouldn’t be attempted murder. If Plat wanted to kill Tony De’Fallipi, he’d succeed even without his sniper rifle.
A man’s neck could be broken multiple ways. Snap. Crunch.
He took a pull from his beer.
Two—and it really was imperative he make a quick internal list to hold off his murderous rage—his teammates wouldn’t appreciate having to clean the mess. They’d assist without a doubt. Only Copper alone would never let him live it down. She’d want him to talk about why he’d committed murder in the middle of the day. In a bar.
The sheer amount of time spent managing the fallout would cut into his reading hours.
And finally—three—much as he hated to admit the sad truth, it really wasn’t Tony’s fault he was such a complete and total incompetent jackass. A certain portion of the population had to be born naturally stupid. Platinum could only blame himself for hiring him.
“Are you going to say something?” Tony fidgeted with the coaster on the table. Platinum specialized in noticing details. At the moment, he zeroed in on the tear in the corner of the cardboard drink holder. The picture on top—a pirate holding a beer—seemed ragged, half-destroyed.
Why was the bar using broken coasters? Were they running short on funds? He’d invest in the place, secretly if need be. Losing Bone Daddy’s wasn’t an option.
“Say something.” Tony threw the coaster down on the table and it bounced once before settling on its side. Plat watched the movement for an extra second before he turned his gaze on De’Fallipi.
Tony needed to lose weight, in a big way. Maybe take off two hundred pounds. He hadn’t been as obese the last time Plat met with him. He smoked, everything he had on reeked of it, and if the yellow stain on the side of his mouth indicated anything, probably chewed tobacco.
At five-foot-five inches, the gray haired mess in front of him was a foot shorter than Plat. He really hoped said mess wasn’t about to have a heart attack. The last thing he wanted to do was to have to resuscitate Tony on the floor of the bar.
“When was the last time you went for a physical? Had your sugars checked?”
Plat really shouldn’t care. He’d left medical school behind when he’d been kidnapped and brought into the Elite Metal fold. When he agreed to rejoin his brothers and sister in arms to make right a major cluster fuck, he’d given up healing and fully embraced the sniper within him once again.
Still, old habits died hard. Old personas too, it seemed.
Tony coughed violently before he answered. “Are you kidding? I told you the weird kid I’ve been watching for you for a year is missing and you want to ask about my last physical? Are you on something? Meeting you here in a nowhere bar, never getting any answers. It’s a good thing your checks cash each month.”
His temper surged again. Outside of his team, there wasn’t a soul alive who would notice a change in him. Control and patience were his best friends.
The knocking on death’s door private investigator in front of him pushed all of his buttons. “I heard what you said.”
“I mean why have I been watching a seven year old? Do you have some sick perverted thing about him?”
Platinum stood up. “Thank you for your help. The checks will be stopping. Permanently. I’ll take it from here. He’s eight by the way.”
“The kid is missing. If I can’t find him, he’s gone.” Tony shrugged “You won’t make it further than I did.”
“Doubtful. Seriously.” Plat leaned forward. “And if you ever call the kid weird again, even in the back of your mind, I’ll put a bullet in your head. You’ll never see it coming.”
Since he’d spoken more in the last ten minutes than he talked usually in a week, he turned on his heel and left the bar. His son was missing. It might be nothing or it could mean Platinum’s demons finally figured out how to hit him where it hurt. He’d spent his whole life trying not to make any connections. One drunken assignation with a woman he barely remembered and boom the universe gifted him with a kid he’d known nothing about for six years—a permanent soft underbelly. Even if Kent never learned his father existed.
One of the two people he cared about in the world was unaccounted for…
Rose was okay, she had to be.
The kid who never knew him and the woman who probably hated the ground he walked on.
About Rebecca Royce:
I am the mother of three adorable boys and I am fortunate to be married to my best friend. We’ve just moved from New Jersey to Texas where I am learning to love Barbecue!
I am in love with science fiction, fantasy and the paranormal and try to use all these elements in my writing. I’ve been told I’m a little bloodthirsty so I hope that when you read my work you’ll enjoy the action-packed ride that always ends in romance. I love to write series because I love to see characters develop over time and it always makes me happy to see my favorite characters make guest appearances in other books. In my world anything is possible, anything can happen, and you should suspect that it will.