Chapter 16 Ledger
LEDGER
Thankfully, we make it to Chicago without any more bumps or surprises. Just a few more minutes to the warehouse Tanner sent the location for days ago.
I’m reluctant to take either of them inside with me, but it’s not exactly safe leaving two young girls alone in the car, either.
Then again, neither was last night’s pit stop.
It was a gamble, sure, but I thought I could get away with it given the time crunch. With Antonio on the hunt, I couldn’t risk driving the same car for too long. At the very least, the license plates needed swapping.
Everything was set. The door was locked, her hands were tied, and she looked like she was in deep enough sleep that I could finish what needed to be done. I even drilled Frankie to text me if she even saw so much as a twitch come from her.
But that girl is clever. I’ll give her that. Shrewd and determined. She’s caught me off guard twice now. But it won’t happen again.
Fool me once, shame on you. But fool me twice, and it’s shame on me.
My fingers dig into the steering wheel of the stolen Mazda, the interior reeking of weed and stale French fries.
I couldn’t believe it when I spotted it parked off the curb as I came out of the shop, brand-new screwdriver in hand. The engine hummed low, no one in sight.
Even the security cameras were rusted, their angles skewed.
Glitching lights and missing letters on the shop’s sign made it clear those dark lenses weren’t part of any sleek, modern design. No. That place hadn’t seen proper maintenance in years.
Everything lined up too perfectly.
For a moment, it felt like the universe was on my side.
Then the car alarm went off, catching me on my knees, black hood up, halfway through screwing on a new license plate from one of the few cars left on the lot.
Guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised.
In any case, it’s all been taken care of now.
I veer off into a narrow path, cutting through the back toward a secluded road that leads to the abandoned warehouse where Tanner’s guy is waiting.
The past few hours in the car have been tense. The threat I made earlier about tying her in the trunk was enough to quiet her sobs until they gradually wore off into a weighty silence.
Her eyes lack the tiny glimmer I’d once seen in her gaze that time we kissed as she listlessly peers out the window. An empty shell is all that remains.
This isn’t what I fucking wanted for her. Yeah, I wanted my threats to keep her in check, but not like this. I meant to protect her from The Ringer, but all I’ve done is kill her spirit—the spirit that made her, her. She’s too young to feel like her life’s over.
This is all my own doing. But things will change.
Not long from now, she’ll settle somewhere far from here, free to start anew. Even then, she might never forgive me. I wouldn’t expect her to, either.
I know I’m not a good guy. I can’t hide all of the ugly that lives deep within me, the monster that she’s witnessed first-hand and up close. Every part of my being disgusts her. I’m a repulsive killer with skewed morals that she’ll never be able to look past. How could she? How could anyone?
As I steer past a crooked stop sign, a red pickup truck comes into view, parked tight against the building’s run-down back door. Weeds sprout through the pavement cracks as I slowly drive over.
“I have shoes for you,” Frankie says to Aria out of nowhere, a slight hitch in her voice.
My eyes lift to the rearview mirror, flicking back and forth between the two of them. Aria doesn’t turn to look at her. Frankie fumbles as she takes the sneakers out of the paper bag as I cut the engine.
Twisting in my seat, I hold out my arms for Frankie to hand over the shoes. She shoots a quick glance to the back of Aria’s head before handing them over. “Come on, we’ll be in and out.”
Her chin lifts in a nod, but there’s a stiffness in her neck. Fuck, I hate that they have to go in. Reaching for the handle at my side, I step outside then turn to yank Aria’s door open. She flinches.
And fuck if that doesn’t gut me further.
Her eyes are rimmed red as she sets them across her chest, refusing to meet my gaze. I grip the shoes tight, steadying myself before reaching down to twist her legs aside so they’ll hang out the doorframe. Her lips part on a gasp.
Frankie quickly scrambles out on the other side, slamming her door behind her.
I put each shoe onto her feet then double tie the laces.
“Stand up.” Her breathing picks up its pace, my eyes drawn to the rise and fall of her chest before locking back on her face.
“Don’t make this hard. Those men inside?
They’re really bad men, and if you don’t keep close to me, I won’t be able to help you. Okay?”
She swallows hard, a sheen glazing her eyes, not really focusing on me, but she nods.
“Good.”
I pat her knee to urge her up, but she flinches at my touch. Another jab to my chest, a subtle reminder that she’ll never find comfort in my touch again.
Frankie circles behind me, fingers tugging at the frayed ends of her denim jacket, twisting loose threads into a tight spiral while she leans on her toes.
Aria stands on unsteady legs. Both hands tremble at her sides, fists curling tight. “Why do we have to go inside?”
My knuckles twitch at the tremor in her voice. “Because they won’t work on our fake IDs without us present to confirm everything first. Remember that boss I told you about?”
Only her lashes flutter in response, but I know she remembers. My gaze lingers, memorizing every wrinkled expression up close.
“I’m trying to keep us safe from him right now. That’s why we need to go in.”
A long creak sounds from behind. It’s the door swinging on rusted hinges. My shoulders tense in response.
I whirl around, catching sight of one of the guys lingering in the doorway.
“Yo,” he shouts, tipping his head. “Wilson, right? It’s Jagger, from the money wire.”
It’ll be okay, I tell Aria with my eyes. The car locks pop up as I shift around again to walk over, Frankie faltering for a moment, then falling into place beside Aria as they trail behind me.
“Hey, sorry if we’re late. Long drive,” I say as I reach him.
He flashes me a wide smile, my eye catching on his snaggletooth. “Nah, you’re just in time. I cashed out the money you sent; it’s inside. Just got here not too long ago myself.”
We walk inside the building, our footsteps echoing in the large space filled with mostly empty cardboard boxes and plastic crates. The inside is dim. A good portion of the windows are boxed up, keeping the sunlight out, though enough slips in to light up the path.
The air feels heavy inside, musty and damp, like a decade of mold has built up in every corner of the walls and floors. It follows us deeper inside. I shift my attention behind me for a second to make sure Aria and Frankie don’t lag too far behind. Good, they’re close.
“You sure you’ll be able to get everything done by tomorrow? We’re in a bit of a rush,” I ask.
His inky eyes narrow as his lips curl upward, a stark contrast to the ghastly complexion that could rival Casper the ghost himself. “Yeah, for sure, my guy. That’s what you’re paying for, right? Premium price for premium speed.”
We approach his partner, hunched in the far corner on a dented barstool, licking his fingers as he sorts through a wad of cash on the desk in front of him. Dust mites dance around him as the bills shuffle from one hand to another.
“Yo, Dee,” Jagger calls out to him. The man lifts his head just long enough to nod at us, then drops it again, resuming his count as he stacks the bundles into a neat pile.
“This is Wilson, Scott’s friend I told you about. He’s here for the appointment.”
“Yeah, yeah, cool. Just get their headshots and signatures, and we’re straight,” he grumbles without looking up.
Jagger swivels on his heels. “Okay, let’s, uh, let’s have you all stand right here, behind the white wall.”
I turn to face the direction he’s pointing in. A large white paper backdrop, stained yellow and brown at the bottom, is propped by lightweight plastic poles. He whips out his phone and holds it up, squinting through the screen as I step in front of the backdrop.
“And just lean your shoulder back…perfect.” He clicks the shot, the flash blinding. “Alright, just a sec,” he lilts, bouncing on his heels as he heads back to the desk where his partner is seated. He grabs a notepad and pen, then rushes it back to me. “Just sign the name you want to go by.”
I take them from him and awkwardly scribble the first thing that comes to mind. Will Hendrix. My late grandfather’s name. The lines are a bit sloppy as I loop the X, the notepad cradled in my palm.
“Alrighty, and just hold that for a minute.” He turns his attention to the girls behind me. “And which one of you pretty ladies wanna go first?”
He flashes them his front, yellow-stained snaggletooth, and my fists clench as I fight the urge to knock it out of his mouth. My lips curl downward, my gaze narrowing as I keep it locked on him.
Where did Tanner find these people to begin with?
As if she senses my irritation, Frankie quickly steps in front of the wallpaper, adjusting her posture.
“Nice,” Jagger coos as his camera flash hits. “Very nice. What’s your name, pretty girl?”
She hurries over to stand beside me, trying to get away from his slimy gaze. I hand her the notepad.
“Her name doesn’t matter,” I snap. “It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
Jagger lets out a long whistle. “No need to get feisty. Just making conversation with your girls.”
I ignore him and glance at Aria, who’s tugging on her sweater, hands trembling. “We’re almost done here,” I murmur, nudging her forward with a tilt of my chin.
She hesitates, lips trembling, but after a second nudge, she complies and walks toward the backdrop.
A rowdy howl erupts from Dee, still perched in the corner but now paying attention, as Jagger snaps the photo. “Those girls barely look a day over eighteen. How’d you score that?”
My knuckles blanch at my side.
Easy, Ledger. Now isn’t the time to stir trouble.
“Those are my fucking sisters you’re talking about.”
He arches his dark, bushy brows. “Damn, man, my bad. I didn’t know they were blood.”
“Shit, me neither,” Jagger adds. “Honest mistake. We’ll lay off your back.”
A grunt leaves my throat, but I shift my attention back to Aria, jerking my head for her to come stand beside me and Frankie. She doesn’t hesitate hurrying over, her eyes locking on my eyes only.
It swells my chest with pride, even though I know it has nothing to do with me.
It’s just survival. Another case of her leaning into what most benefits her in the moment. She wouldn’t hesitate to run again under any other circumstance.
All that’s left are her and Frankie’s signatures. Then we can get the hell out of here.
Frankie quickly jots down a name and hands it to Aria, who takes it with a blank expression.
“Just sign any name besides your legal one,” I calmly tell her.
Her brows pull together, and this time she hesitates a beat too long. Jagger swoops in like a hawk, using the opportunity to get closer.
“Hard time picking out a name, angel?”
I glare at him as she stiffens, leaning closer into me. “How about you back it up a bit, yeah?”
His chuckle sends tiny bumps skittering across my skin. It takes everything in me not to blow this out of proportion. He steps back with a raised hand to apologize. “Just trying to help. But I’ll give you guys some space.”
He saunters toward the sidelines, Dee meeting his gaze on the way.
I glance back down at Aria, silently pleading with her not to draw more attention.
Not now.
These guys don’t have formal ties to The Ringer, and I trust Tanner’s connections, but that doesn’t mean they won’t sniff us out for more money if they sense something’s off.
Or worst, press for sensitive information that could end up in the hands of someone who is linked to Antonio.
This needs to be swift and quiet. Like it was planned.
“Hey,” I whisper, resting a hand over her shoulder. This time she doesn’t flinch as aggressively, but she’s still stiff. “Remember what I said? It’s just a name. Don’t overthink it.”
She turns away from the notepad, her eyes still refusing to look anywhere but in mine. Her chin dips with the slightest movement, but I register it as a nod, and cool relief sweeps through me.
She glances back down to the paper and lifts the pen to sign.