He didn’t blame her. His excuse sounded as lame as it was.
“Looks like we need to talk, Settler.”
He glanced at the stern-faced men and she quickly pointed each one out in turn. “My brothers: Shea, fire inspector with the Santa Lucia Police Department.” He was the tallest with the same black hair as the one she next introduced. “Robert, he’s a firefighter with the local fire department.” Her gaze flicked to the last brother. “Aaron is a private investigator.”
Aaron gave a nearly imperceptible nod. He was the shortest by about an inch, thicker in the body with slightly hunched shoulders. A bushy moustache covered his upper lip and something dark and unfathomable lurked in his gaze.
In an instant, Travis didn’t trust him.
The jury was out on the other two.
“I heard you were the guy at the fire the other night,” she said, “and that you’re my daughter’s adoptive father and that she’s missing.” She was shaking now. Anger snapped in her gaze, fury set her jaw. “What the hell’s going on?”
“I think I made a mistake.”
“A pretty damned big one. Are you going to invite us in or are you going to make me stand here in the parking lot?”
So far the men with her hadn’t said a word, just stared at him as if he was Satan incarnate. He thought about the small motel room with its one chair, two double beds and limited space. He couldn’t imagine being crushed into it with this small firebrand of a woman and her three looming, suspicious brothers.
“How about we take this to the restaurant?” he asked, hitching his chin toward El Ranchito, the eatery associated with the motel. “I’ll buy you all a drink.”
Shea’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Distrusting.
“The room’s too small,” Travis explained as he walked back inside, grabbed his wallet off the desk, then stepped outside where the night was warm and close, the thrum of traffic ever-present. He closed the door behind him. “That okay with you?” he asked Shannon and ignored the goons who were with her. He’d deal with her. Fine. But not the whole testosterone-laden group of them.
“I’ll pass on the drink,” she said, scrutinizing him. “The restaurant’s fine.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
They walked across the parking lot and into the cool, dark interior of the restaurant. Travis held open the swinging doors to the bar for Shannon and her fleet of Flannerys, then found a large corner table near the window, away from both the shaved-headed men who were playing pool and the group wearing baseball caps while watching sports highlights on the television mounted over the bar.
They all slid into chairs and Travis noticed that Shannon grimaced as she sat down directly across from him. She stared at him across the dark, scarred wood. Two of her brothers sat on either side of her. Shea positioned himself on one end.
Travis hardly knew where to start.
Before he could utter a word, a waitress appeared and, seemingly unaware that the small crowd was in anything but a party mood, chatted and took orders, then swung over to the bar.
“I owe you an apology,” Travis began. “Yes, I am Dani’s father. My wife and I adopted her thirteen years ago.” His lungs tightened and the weight in his chest was nearly unbearable. “You’re right, she’s missing, there are very few clues as to what happened and I got real sick of sitting around and waiting for a call that wasn’t going to come.”
“And what if it does?” Shannon asked, her face pale beneath her bruises, her lips barely moving. “What if whoever took her tries to get in touch with you?”
“There are people who will answer the phone.”
“What if the kidnappers refuse to talk to anyone but you?”
“I have a cell. They’ll be directed to me.” He felt suddenly tired and old, his looming failure as a father settling hard on his shoulders. “They’re not going to call, Shannon.”
Her shoulders stiffened at his familiar use of her name. “Because you think she’s a runaway?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Dani’s never shown any indication of wanting to leave home. We don’t fight, well, not much—” he saw the concern in her features, the hunger for any information about the child she gave up. “Look.” He spread his hands. “I really don’t know what to think.”
The waitress returned with four bottles of beer and a club soda for Shannon. Conversation died as a fresh basket of tortilla chips and a small bowl of mixed nuts were placed on the table.
Once the waitress had moved off Travis leaned closer to Shannon. She flinched at his close proximity. “I said I made a mistake, but the reason I did was because I had nothing to go on. All I knew was that my daughter had recently expressed some interest in her birth parents.”
“And what did you tell her?” Shannon asked carefully.
“To wait. That when she was eighteen, when I hoped she’d be mature enough to handle the situation, I’d tell her everything I knew.”