“Sienna is blowing me up,” Lincoln laughs from the front seat of the SUV. “Should I reply or ignore her?”

“Ignore her,” we all say in unison.

“If she wants to be an accomplice in this, she can take a little of the heat,” Graham points out. “I’ve spent so much fucking time on Swink and her bullshit when all Sienna has to do is tell me what she’s doing.”

“It’s obviously a guy,” Lincoln points out.

“It’s obviously a guy she knows we’ll flip a lid about,” I say, catching Troy’s eye in the rearview.

“Am I going to need bail money?” he asks.

We chuckle as he takes the final right-hand turn towards the bar where Camilla’s car was towed from.

“I ask you one thing: don’t let Barrett get hemmed up,” Troy says, looking at me. “If shit is going to hit the fan, at least have the decency to let me get the Governor out of there first.”

He pulls the car in front of an old brick building with a series of letters partially lit across the top in a faded red lighting. It looks like the dump you’d figure would be on Davis Street. As we all climb out of the SUV, we take in the sight before us.

“What in the ever-loving hell is Camilla doing here?” Lincoln turns to Graham. “You sure you got the right place?”

G flashes him a look, chastising him for second-guessing his facts. Lincoln shrugs and enters. We all follow behind him.

The Gold Room, as we come to learn the fine establishment is called, isn’t aptly named. There’s nothing gold or expensive or even “room-y” about it.

A long bar extends down the center of the wall to the right, pillars hold up the ceiling up along the middle of the building. Tables with cheap plastic chairs dot most of the free space, save a little area in the back. That’s reserved for a couple of pool tables and what looks to be a makeshift dance floor that appears to have the same eighties-style paneling as the walls.

“You think Cam has turned to stripping?” Lincoln jokes, nodding at a semi-hidden stripper pole situated behind a partition.

I shove him in the back, causing him to propel forward a few feet.

“I was only kidding,” he laughs. “I’m sure Graham is gracious enough to give her enough money to keep her from that.”

We slowly make our way to the bar. There are only a couple of patrons in the place. They’re spread out, some at tables, a couple at the far end of the counter.

“Let’s have a drink, shall we, boys?” Barrett takes the lead and sits at a bar stool at the end. We file in to his left and wait for the bald-headed bartender to come our way. He sees us, that much is for sure. He also purposefully makes us wait.

“There goes his tip,” Lincoln mutters, earning another bump on the shoulder from me.

Troy stands discreetly by the front door, not missing a beat. He doesn’t look thrilled with our plan.

“What can I get you?”

I turn to see Nate, if his name tag reads correctly, looking between the four of us. His eyes are assessing, trying to figure out what we’re doing here.

“Four shots of tequila,” Lincoln relays. “You have any Patrón?”

Nate gives Lincoln a look as if to say, “Really?” Muttering something under his breath, he turns to the cabinet behind him. After a few seconds of rummaging, he pulls out a bottle and blows a layer of dust off it. “Yup.”

“We’ll have that and give the asshole to my right a double,” Lincoln says.

“Fuck you,” I laugh. But before I can change the order, Nate is down the bar.

“Tequila, Lincoln? Really?” Barrett asks. “Do you know the last time I’ve shot tequila?”

“Not my fault you’re a proper politician these days,” Lincoln winks. “Besides, don’t you want to see Ford and Graham get all fucked up?”

“I will not be getting fucked up.” Graham shoots Lincoln a look. “Now focus, boys. Let’s do some … what do you call it, Ford?”

“Recon. We’re on a recon mission.”

The shot glasses are placed in front of each of us, Barrett’s spilling over a little. Troy looks concerned when Lincoln asks that the bottle be left in front of him.

We raise our drinks and shoot them at the same time. It’s not so bad going down, but I forgot the fire once you open your mouth.

“Ugh,” I say, licking my lips. “I hate that shit.”

“Purifies your blood,” Lincoln laughs. He points at Graham. “Want another one?

“When in Rome …” He holds out his glass and Lincoln fills it back up.

“Fuck it.” Barrett offers his up for a refill too. “Give some to Ford. Don’t leave him out.”

“I’d never leave him out,” he grins. “He’s the one I’d like to get bombed.”

“Good luck,” I snort.

The clear liquid fills the glass again. I cringe as my brothers wait for me to lift it to my lips. It goes down a little better than the first, but still tastes awful. The glass clinks against the bar top as I feel the fire again.

“All right. Now to business,” Barrett says. He looks around the room and I follow suit.

There’s an exit sign behind us that’s dimly lit. Over by the nook holding the stripper pole, there’s a nondescript door.

“Wonder where that leads?” I say, moving my eyes that way. “Door to the left. By the pink chandelier.”

“How do we even know if she was here specifically?” Barrett asks. “Maybe she got dropped off here and went elsewhere.”

“Yeah. Because if you were getting picked up by someone, this is the place you’d choose,” I say sarcastically. “The only reason you’d be here is to be here.”

Lincoln pours everyone another shot and we take this one without thought. He looks proud.

“Hey, Nate!” Lincoln calls.

The bartender makes his way to us, looking irritated. “What’s up?”

“We’re looking for someone,” Lincoln says.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Hey! That’s a good one,” Lincoln laughs. “But we really are. She’s short, blonde, green eyes. A pain in the fucking ass.”

“A set of big ol’ titties?” Nate leans against the bar so he’s eye to eye with Lincoln. He’s challenging him, there’s no doubt about it, and becomes very clear he knows who we are. And who Camilla is.

Lincoln grins, but I can see his jaw pulsing. Instead of replying right away, he pours us all another drink. I down mine. I see Graham pushing his away out of the corner of my eye.

Nate shoves away. “I see a lot of whores in this place. Hard to tell them apart after a while.”

“Why ya gotta be a dick, Nate?” Lincoln asks, shaking his head.

“Why ya gotta come in here causing trouble, Landry?”

Just like that, all cards are on the table. Not that we had cover, but if we had anything going for us at all, it’s now blown into the abyss.

“We aren’t here to cause trouble,” Graham cuts in. “We’re just looking for our sister.”

“She ain’t here,” Nate says, spreading his arms to his sides. “Do you see her?”

Barrett leans forward, giving Nate his best campaign-esque smile. “We don’t want trouble. We’re just concerned.”

“Why?” Nate snorts. “Because you think maybe your little sister has fallen to the dark side?”

“We didn’t say that,” Graham says calmly.

“Maybe,” Nate says, keeping a few feet back, “your little sister just likes a little real cock laid to her.”

“Easy …” I warn.

Nate laughs. “I’d venture to say there’s nothing easy about it.”

“You motherfucker,” I say, lunging across the bar. Troy is at my side, Lincoln on the other, before I know it.

“It’s time to go,” Troy says, jerking me backwards. I shake off his grip and give him a look letting him know I’m fine.

Nate grins. “Do you boys need anything else?”

Lincoln slams a couple of bills down and sits his glass on top of it. Without taking my eyes off him, I pour another shot and down it. Slamming my glass against the bar, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “If you fuck with her, you fuck with all of us. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” he winks. “Now listen to your minder there and get the hell out of here before word gets out the Governor is sitting in the Gold Room. I don’t think you want that, do you?”

Nate flashes Barrett a look, letting him know with a few well-placed calls, he can turn this visit into a PR nightmare.

“Let’s go,” Barrett says.

I wait for them all to file ahead of me before I turn back around. Nate is looking at me.

“You know, not everything you see is what you get.” He raises his brows. “Your sister is a big girl, Landry. She can take care of herself.”

My hands plant on the bar and I look him dead in the eye. “She can. And if she can’t, she has me. I’m not the Governor and I don’t give a fuck what is written about me in the papers.” I turn to go, but wheel back around. “If you allow her in here, I want you to know that I personally hold you responsible for her safety and well-being. You got that?”

Something changes in Nate’ eyes. I see it happen. He nods subtly before I turn and walk out to a much-relieved look on Troy’s face.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Barrett says, climbing into the backseat.

With a last look at the Gold Room, I pile into the SUV and we speed off towards the Farm.