Page 28 of When the Smoke Clears

“I heard there was a bit of an incident earlier today, Luke,” she says, before grabbing Gabe’s water and taking a long sip. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Well, then I’ll let you two get back to your Mensa meeting.”

Gabe lets out a low chuckle as she strides away, her heels clicking against the polished floor. “Your sister is a ball-buster.”

I lift my beer to my lips. “That she is. That’s what happens when you grow up sandwiched between brothers.”

Gabe nods, then his expression shifts again. “So, just to be clear: how much information are you looking for about Isla?”

My brows draw together as I set my beer down with a soft tap. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says, “I can find out as much or as little as you want.”

“I don’t need to know anything unless you think it might be linked to something dangerous.” My fingers absently peel at the edge of the label. “I’m not interested in who she dated four years ago, even if you could dig that up.”

He meets my gaze. “I could tell you what brand of toothpaste she used four years ago, if you wanted.”

I grin despite myself. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“You should be.” He chuckles. “I could blackmail your ass for life.”

We drift into lighter topics, the tension easing, when a guy walks into the bar and slides onto the stool next to my sister. Tailored jacket. Polished shoes. Overstyled hair. He’s clearly not from around here.

Gabe and I exchange a look.

“Well, would you look at that?” Gabe murmurs. “Savannah’s robbing the cradle.”

I chuckle. Sav and I are just over a year apart, and I just turned twenty-nine. This guy looks twenty-four, tops. She’s going to eat him alive.

“Probably from out of town,” I say. “If you want to date around here, you’ve got to widen the radius.”

“Looks like some douche who’d work for your dad,” Gabe mutters. He squints. “He’s probably from Morning Wood.”

Meadow Wood is a college town about an hour away, all business majors and overpriced lattes. Locals slapped it with that nickname decades ago. It stuck.

“He really does,” I agree, leaning for a better look. The guy exudes expensive shoes and cheap confidence.

“I’m surprised your sister would risk the rumor mill by meeting up with someone here,” Gabe says.

“Sav doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks.” Pride and exasperation tangle in my voice.

Gabe nods, though his jaw tightens. “Still, I don’t like the looks of the guy.”

“What’s to like?” I murmur, watching them.

We both keep an eye on the scene unfolding. The guy lifts his arm to signal the bartender and sways on the stool, barely catching himself with a clumsy grab at the counter.

I glance at Gabe. His jaw is locked now.

Savannah’s expression shifts too—eyes narrowing, lips flattening. The guy leans in and drops a hand onto her knee like he’s known her for more than thirty seconds.

She brushes his hand away in one sharp, decisive movement.

Gabe sets his drink down with a quiet thunk. “Yeah, that’s enough.”

I stand up just a half-second after he does.