The Heart of a Killer

The guy took off his helmet and turned to shoot Dante a glare.

No way. Taller, his arms covered in tattoos and he definitely had a lot more muscle showing under that leather vest than he’d had when they were kids, but Dante would know Gabe anywhere.

Gabe laid the helmet on the back of the bike and headed toward him, a smirk drawing his lips up.

“Finally decided to come back, huh?”

Dante pulled Gabe into a quick hug, then drew back. “It was more like a command that I be here for their anniversary.”

Gabe nodded. “Nice of you to show up. And good timing, too.”

“Yeah. Ellen call you about George?”

“She’s worried, and you know her. Nothing fazes her.”

“Let’s go inside.”

Dante knew Ellen would be happy to see him, but the tight squeeze she gave him spelled a lot more than happiness.

She was past the point of worry and well into terrified.

Now it was up to him and Gabe to settle her down and hopefully figure out where the hell George was while Ellen wrung her hands together and paced the kitchen.

They’d remodeled, torn out the tiny kitchen where he and the guys used to cram their growing, oversize bodies around the tiny table. Now it was bright, with lots of overhead lighting, and a sturdy solid wood table sat in the place of the old metal one. You could seat an army there.

Ellen had coffee ready when they’d walked in. He sat at the table and downed the brew, stared up at the only woman he’d ever considered a decent mother to him. She looked as worried as she’d sounded over the phone, her short, slightly graying red hair mussed from dragging her hands through it.

“He didn’t say anything about where he was going?” Dante asked.

She shook her head and wrapped her fingers around her mug. Her hands trembled. “No. I figured the boys—we have three right now, all in the raging throes of puberty—had just gotten on his nerves tonight and he needed to drive it off.”

“You’d think after years as a drill sergeant there wasn’t enough attitude in the world that would annoy him,” Gabe said. “We never got on his nerves, and if we couldn’t rattle him, I don’t think anyone could.”

The corners of her mouth lifted. “True enough, but he’s older now. His patience isn’t what it used to be.”

“Okay, so maybe that’s all it is,” Dante suggested. “He went for a drive and he’ll be back.”

“I thought so at first, but a half hour, hour at most and he’d have been home. He’s been gone three hours.”

“Flat tire or car trouble?” Dante suggested.

“He has his cell. He’d have called me to let me know. He’d never let me get worried like this.”

“I assume you tried to call him?” Gabe asked.

“He didn’t answer.”

That wasn’t good. Dante didn’t want to say it, but the one thing George and Ellen had taught him was to be a straight shooter. “Maybe we should call the police, find out if there’ve been any accidents.”

She sank into one of the chairs. “I’ve been putting that off. I could call Roman.”

“Wait,” Dante said. “Roman? Why?”

“Roman’s a detective,” she said.

Dante shifted his gaze to Gabe, who shrugged. “I know. Go figure, right?”

This whole night so far had been mind-boggling. “Okay, call him.”

Ellen went to get her phone, a tremor in her hand as she flipped through the numbers. She pressed the button and held the phone to her ear, waiting, her gaze focused on Dante and Gabe.

“Roman? It’s Ellen. I’m sorry to call so late, but it’s George. He seems to be missing.”

She paused a beat. “No, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, but Dante thought—” She smiled. “Yes, he’s back for the anniversary party. Yes, we’ve kept in touch over the years. He’s fine, honey. But about George…”

Dante listened while Ellen told Roman about George.

Roman a cop. He didn’t see that one at all. Then again, he’d never asked Ellen about the guys. His conversations with her had been short over the years, just enough to catch up with her and George, to tell them he was okay. That had been it. Never about his brothers.

He hadn’t wanted to know about them, hadn’t wanted to think about them, or miss them.

But now, he realized he’d missed a lot. He shifted his gaze to Gabe. Motorcycle and tattoos. What the hell had he been up to all these years?

Ellen hung up and laid the phone on the table. “Roman’s working a case, but he’s going to send some uniforms out around the area to search for him.”

Dante could do more. “Is George’s phone like yours?”

“Yes.”

“What’s his cell-phone number?”

She gave it to him. Dante pulled out his phone and entered the number. “I’ll be right back.”

He went out to his car and grabbed his laptop from his bag, came back inside and set it up.

“That looks like all symbols or a foreign language. Is it?” Ellen asked, looking over his shoulder while he worked.

“Not really.”

Gabe leaned over and took a look, then arched a brow. “Dude, where the hell have you been?”

Dante didn’t answer. There’d be time for explanations later, after they found George.

“What are you doing?” Ellen asked.

“Triangulating George’s position via his cell.”

“You can do that?”