Page 8 of Ravaged With You

Entirely true, just not for the reasons he’d shared with Detective Amaro.

Red’s phone buzzed. “My brother and a friend just arrived in the tasting room. Do you need me in here?”

“No. But please don’t leave. Officer Franklin is in the tasting area. He’ll let you know if we need anything further.”

“Thanks.”

“Mr. Cooper?”

He turned back.

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

He’d been holding it together, but something about those words from a cop got to him. His throat thickened, and his vision became watery. He managed a nod, then hurried out of the room, wanting nothing more than to disappear into his office for a few moments alone with the memory of his friend.

It didn’t happen. Renly and Damien Stark were waiting for him when he reached the tasting room. He and Renly weren’t identical, but people often thought they were. Red’s hair was brighter, something that had irritated him in school, and he was a few inches taller. Other than that, they might as well have been identical. Now, of course, Red sported a close-trimmed beard and a veritable art collection of tattoos. Renly was clean-shaven, and had only one tat from his time in Special Forces.

Still, they must have looked like a mirror when Renly pulled him into a bear hug. “I’m so sorry, bro. I didn’t even know Mel was hurting.”

“I know,” Red said, breaking away from his brother to take Damien’s outstretched hand.

“Whatever you need.” Tall and lean, with an athlete’s build, the billionaire exuded power and control. And, right now, compassion.

“Appreciate it.”

“Did he leave a note? Say anything to you?” Renly exhaled. “I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“Honestly, I need some air. Let’s talk at one of the tables in the garden.” He pointed to the bar and the array of whiskey bottles lining the shelves behind it. “Help yourselves. Wouldn’t blame you if you needed it.”

Renly met his eyes. “Want me to bring you a water?”

“Thanks.”

He headed out and the other men soon followed him. For a moment, they just sat silently, Red sipping water as the others sipped whiskey.

He sighed, then lifted his water bottle. “Here’s to Mel,” he said, and they toasted their friend. “We’ll miss you.”

As soon as Damien and Renly put down their glasses, Red lowered the boom, his voice pitched low, so it was almost lost in the ambient sounds from nearby Santa Monica Boulevard. Plus, he’d deliberately seated them at the middle table, far enough away from any listening devices or cameras mounted on the walls. “His death makes even less sense than you think.”

“What—”

Red leaned in before Renly could finish the questions. “He didn’t kill himself,” he said, the words barely a whisper. “I’ll tell you the rest later, away from here. But it was murder.”

“Fuck,” Renly said. “That explains why you wanted Damien here, too.”

“Because it won’t be the police who will be investigating,” Damien said. “It will be Stark Security.”

Red met his eyes. “I’m calling in that favor.”

“I already told you. Whatever you need,” Damien assured him. “I owe you everything. Tell us how he died.”

“Woozy from carbon dioxide, then drowned in one of the fermentation tubs.”

“Oh, God,” Renly said. He focused on Red. “You sure you’re handling it?”

Red had never told his brother about what had happened in Romania, but Renly wasn’t an idiot, and Red had left a hell of a lot of signposts.

After he left the service and came to California, Red had turned down dates to go diving with his brother, something they’d done for most of their lives in both California and Texas. He even avoided swimming pools. Anything submersive. Or that had the potential to be.