27. Ram
Chapter 27
Ram
I stare after her, the envelope clutched in my hand. There’d been so many emotions in her eyes, I’m not sure which to focus on first. The fear? The panic? The sheer desperation to get away from the conversation?
She’s spent all this time asking us questions, none of us thought to ask her any in return. Not ones that matter. Who the hell sends someone like that to deliver a message?
I look at the envelope. I could open it, read what’s there, figure it out. But fuck, that feels dirty. Then again, what if this envelope holds something that threatens our safety? It would be wise to check it if she won’t tell us.
Beau and Tripp return a minute later, their brows furrowed when they don’t see Indie. “Where did she go?” Beau asks.
“She’s finding her own way to the hotel,” I comment, before pulling out my phone.
“Somethin’ happen?” Tripp asks, watching me carefully.
“Yeah,” I nod. “But fuck if I know what.” I unlock my phone and open the browser. “Either one of you actually looked up Indie before?”
“Just some of her articles,” Beau comments. “Tripp has too, but we didn’t dig into anything personal. Why?”
“I think she’s in some sort of trouble,” I say.
Beau tenses. “What sorta trouble? Someone hurt our girl?”
“I don’t know,” I grunt. “That’s why I’m lookin’. Some guy just showed up, dressed real familiar-like in a suit.” My eyes meet Tripp’s. “Had a black bird tattoo behind his ear.”
Tripp straightens. “For fuck’s sake, I thought we didn’t have to deal with that on the circuit.”
“Well, apparently, it’s spreading,” I muse. “What are the fuckin’ odds?” I hand the envelope to Beau. “Keep that safe. I don’t know what’s in it, but Indie didn’t want it. Feels wrong to just throw it away.”
Beau nods and tucks it into his jacket pocket. “What now?”
“Now, I use a search engine, like we should have done at the beginning,” I say. “Best you two get your phones out too. We’ll grab some carnival food and figure shit out.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re sitting at a plastic picnic table, a large pizza between us, each of us staring at the article I’d found. Once I’d found one, I’d found the rest, article after article, so many it’s hard to keep track.
War and Crime: How One Family Does It All
Like Father Like Daughter?: The Chen Family’s Ties To The Crows
The Crows Spread Their Wings: Another Family With Ties To The Crime Ring Revealed
“Jesus Christ,” Tripp says as he scrolls through the article. “She’s been through it.”
“At least we know now why she’s working for a rodeo magazine instead of the New York Times,” I muse. “Someone like her don’t exactly belong in this industry, not with her experience.”
“It says she was cleared,” Beau comments. “There was no evidence tying her to the Crows. Hell, even her dad testified that she had nothing to do with it. Seems like she was just caught up in the shitstorm.”
“Clearly, she hasn’t escaped just yet,” Tripp points out. “We know Wyoming is crawling with the fuckers now. The drug problems have gotten out of hand according to the news updates I get.”
“And now here we are, interested in a woman who has a dad in the fucking gang,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Fuck, this is bad.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve had bad before,” Beau says. “So she comes with some history? We all do.”
I level my gaze on him. Fuck if he doesn’t have a point. “What do we do about it?”
Tripp shrugs. “Pretend we don’t know anything. Let her tell us in her own time?”
“That isn’t really our style,” Beau counters. “I say we confront her, tell her we know what happened, and then convince her to fall in love with us and never leave.”
I shake my head, exasperated. “You’re jumpin’ the gun there, payaso . She’s an independent woman capable of takin’ care of herself. You can’t just force her to love you.”
“Who said anything about force?” he asks, raising his brow. “That’s all you, Rammie.”
I blink. “Why would I have to force her?”
Beau tilts his head. “No reason. Not if you can’t even admit it to yourself.”
I narrow my eyes on him, but it’s Tripp who breaks the tension.
“I say we keep her around,” he says.
It’s such a flippant comment, so unlike Tripp, that both of us stare at him in surprise. That’s how I know we’re fucked. If Tripp is as invested as we are, we’re fucked. She’s not going anywhere. Which means we’re either going to have to confront her or pretend we know nothing and let her have her privacy.
Except ain’t a single one of us going to be able to pretend.
“I’m gonna talk to her,” I say. “Alone. The less of us in the confrontation, the less threatenin’.”
Beau rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Sure. Because you’re just gonna talk to her.”
“I am,” I say, indignantly.
Beau pops a pepperoni in his mouth and grins. “Maybe if you say it enough times, you’ll believe it yourself.”
I throw a packet of parmesan at him. “ Pinche puto .”