Chapter 13 #2
I draw in a long breath through my nose, grinding the wheel in my fist.
He leans in. “Now I permitted you entry out of respect to take care of some family business,” he tells me, “but it doesn’t look like you’re leaving, and if Reeves has to hide, then so do you.”
Bullshit. He doesn’t want Reeves back. He likes being boss.
Just like he enjoys putting that tattoo on the people close to Madoc. How long before Farrow gets it on Quinn? Or on Hunter or Dylan?
Closing the distance, he nearly breathes on me as he whispers, “I could hide you tonight. Forever.” His voice turns sinister. “Unless there’s a reason you’re still here. I could hide her too.”
I whip around, backhanding the kid behind me, his pistol dropping to the ground as I grab the collar of Hugo Navarre’s leather jacket.
I glare into his brown eyes, a shade darker than Quinn’s as his pal retrieves his gun and points it back at me.
“You permitted me entry?” I growl. “Permitted me?”
Who the fuck does he think he is? Reeves got me cornered all those years ago because I was a threat, and that hasn’t changed. He has no idea if I’ve told the people close to me everything that happened. He’s not going to do shit.
Hugo’s eyes gleam, but he doesn’t fight back as I press him into the door, squeezing his collar in my fists.
“Don’t cross the river again,” I bite out. “And don’t concern yourself because I own the building you squat in, and I know you do a hell of a lot more than is necessary to eat.”
Yeah, I ran. I was twenty-five years old, scared, and ashamed, but nothing I did was for food. I would’ve rather starved.
Navarre grins. “You forget…I have nothing to lose.”
“And no one to mourn your disappearance,” I retort.
Anyone who missed him would simply sweep in to take his place.
“You won’t hurt me,” he says. “You’re going to try to stop me.”
“Why would I do that?” I narrow my eyes, feigning ignorance. “You’ll come after me.”
He laughs, but I don’t mistake the shaky breaths. “Because Reeves was scared of you.”
He wasn’t scared of me. He was sick of me.
“And there’s only one way to come after you really,” Hugo goes on. “I have to find the body.”
I hold back the shudder that quakes through my chest.
“Out in the forest, right?” he continues. “Somewhere around the train tunnel, I’d heard.”
The train tunnel. The synapses in my brain fire, memories crystallizing.
A wall.
Stone. Yes…
I force my voice to stay flat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But he just laughs. “Luckily, you and Reeves are the only ones who know exactly where it is.”
He opens the door, and I don’t stop him as he turns and climbs out. The long-haired guy in the back follows him, tucking his pistol into the back of his jeans.
“For now anyway,” Hugo calls out and peeks his head back in to look at me. “The Caruthers are having the land out there surveyed for trails and a park ranger station. They probably won’t stumble over it.” He grins. “But they might.”
And he slams the door, both of them walking away.
Heat climbs the back of my neck. I watch them go in my rearview mirror and then glance to the door of Fallon’s shop, making sure she didn’t see anything.
There may very well be no tracing the body to me, but even so, it would still reflect badly on the town. Especially its mayor and his association with me.
Why didn’t I just face it the night it happened?
But I know the answer before I exhale another breath. Because Drew threatened Madoc, and I was in too much pain to come clean so we could deal with it together.
Hugo was right. I was ashamed, scared, and a coward.
I was never a man.
Kids coasted down one of Weston’s steepest streets, tumbling and laughing as they tried out my old snowboards in the fresh snow.
“Use your feet!” I yelled. “Press your toes to go left, heels to go right!”
They straight-lined, and I winced, predicting the crash before it happened. Some kid named Wyatt collided with Jorge, both flailing onto the powder that covered the broken street underneath.
It wasn’t likely any of these kids could afford a lift ticket, so what the hell. Let them learn to ski anyway.
I held my breath, seeing them both dead on the ground, but then…Jorge started rolling over and Wyatt climbed to his feet. They both threw snow at each other.
Locking my boot in, I cruised down the hill, the club the only thing lit up on the corner with people standing outside like it was a summer night and we were cooking burgers.
I mean, we were cooking burgers, but…
Drew hopped down from his truck, two police officers following him up the snow-covered sidewalk in the otherwise empty downtown.
Why were the police here?
I didn’t see Lance zoom in and cut me off. We both hit the ground, my hand sinking through the snow and grating against the pavement.
“Asshole,” I chuckled.
He just smiled, whipping a dusting of snow at me.
The kids ran and played, a few parents stood about, and it had been a productive year, making what renovations on the clubhouse that we could afford.
We were here every chance we got. We ripped up the floor, sealed the cement underneath, repaired and painted walls, fixed the roof, did a little plumbing, and I installed smart locks and cameras.
The address above the door read 8 Green Street.
So that was what we started calling it. We paid kids a few bucks to do chores, and we had a makeshift bar others sat at and drank, but we didn’t have a liquor license.
I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, but there were no cops here.
Until now.
“What the fuck is he doing?” I mumbled to my friend, watching Drew lead the cops inside.
“He thinks he’s a gangster,” he joked.
Nudging me in the chest, he climbed to his feet, and I did the same, removing my board. We headed down the hill to the club, stepping inside the dark building, couches and TVs spread out where fire engines used to be parked.
Walking to the back of the station, Lance fell in behind me, but I stopped just outside the door to the back room.
“And you can guarantee this supply every week for the rest of the year?” Drew asked one of the cops.
They stood around a table with a large, black duffel sitting on it.
The officer nodded. “After that, you have to find another source.”
I peered at Lance.
“Hugo,” Drew said to the kid lurking nearby.
Hugo approached him, Drew pulling money out of his pocket. “Go get some beers and tell that piece of shit that if he gives you a hard time, I’m going to be a problem.”
The kid couldn’t be more than fifteen.
He took the money and tried to slip between us to get out the door, but I grabbed the cash from his hand. “I’ll get the beers,” I said.
Sullivan’s Shop could call the cops on him if he used threats to get liquor.
The kid scowled. “I can do it.”
But I barked, “Go play.”
I’m not sure why I said that. He wasn’t five.
He flipped me his middle finger and disappeared back into the clubhouse. I turned back to watch Drew offer the cops a seat. “Stay a while.”
“Drew,” I call out, trying to peek around to see what’s in the duffel bag.
He looked up just as he was about to sit. I watch him walk over to us, and I waited until he was close and kept my voice low. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“If I tell you,” Drew said. “Then I involve you.”
“What?”
What the fuck?
I glanced at the bag on the table again. I could only assume it was drugs, and the cops got it from a confiscated bust in Chicago or something.
But he simply burst out laughing. “I’m applying to the police academy,” he told us. “Just making friends and trying to get a little favoritism going.”
“A cop?” Lance questioned.
To which Drew put his arms around both of us, tugging us in close. “Who’s going to watch your mansions while you’re taking your families skiing?”
I studied his face, the gleaming blue eyes and half smirk that always gave the impression that he was up to something, but usually it just turned out to be something fun.
He took his seat back at the table, summoning over a young girl with brown hair who wore tight jeans and a crop top. He snaked an arm around her, cupping her ass, while he jerked his chin at another, prompting her to drape her arms around the police officer.
I shot off, but Lance pulled me back. “The age of consent in Illinois is seventeen,” he told me under his breath. “He’s not technically doing anything wrong.”
I glared at Lance.
And when she’s almost seventeen? Or he’s an actual cop who can get away with anything? Would he do worse?
Madoc would have several words for me if he’d ever caught me hanging around someone who he thought was a bad influence.
But I knew Drew. He was just testing the boundaries. Acting like an idiot. Once the novelty of all of this wore off, he’d focus on other things.
“Lucas, I did it!” Jorge shouted from the front door. “Come see!”
The young woman slid into Drew’s lap as he took off his shirt and a tattoo artist started laying out a design on his back.
I spared one more glance at the bag on the table as the cop glided his hand up the second girl’s leg.
I drifted away, back into the snow, telling myself that if it wasn’t me doing it, then it wasn’t my bad to worry about.
I told myself that for a long time.
I drive through town, back toward Quinn’s parents’ place, lost in my thoughts.
I’d wanted to keep my friends, afraid Lance would choose Drew if I walked away, and I wanted to keep the place I’d found for myself, because I was too old to be Madoc’s burden.
Because having a crew felt safe. Powerful, even.
I liked feeling powerful, even though every day took me further from the man my mother raised and the man my father hoped I’d be.
Turns out, I was more like Drew Reeves than I thought.
I should’ve stayed.
I should’ve squared my fucking shoulders and found a way to deal with him, because sooner or later, I would be forced to. Like now.
I need to find the body before Hugo does. I can’t protect Madoc without it. And I need to keep Green Street from spilling over onto the people I love.
My childhood home sits dark on the corner as the sun sets, and I slow down, taking in the familiar scents of the neighborhood and my mother’s old bedroom window upstairs.
It would’ve been nice to sell this house with a smile, but the door still doesn’t feel closed. Like a part of me is still in there.
Quinn will take good care of the place.
I’m about to breeze by, but Farrow Kelly’s bike sits at the curb and I hit the brakes.
I glance at the front door, seeing it’s cracked open. I look around for her bicycle, but I don’t see it. I pull into the driveway and park the car. Is he just giving her rides all the time now?
Stepping into the house, I try not to charge like I have any right to dictate who she comes and goes with, but I’m really fucking regretting leaving a bed upstairs now. Even if thoughts of her and everything she did to herself the other night have haunted me since.
I climb the stairs, pushing open the door to my mother’s old room and then my room.
Farrow Kelly stands at the window, looking into the back yard, his eyes turned over his shoulder at me.
I dart my eyes around, looking for Quinn.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, throwing open the closet doors.
But she’s not here.
Farrow turns, drifting lazily to the end of the bed. “I could ask you the same thing, boss. Did the owner give you permission to be here?”
“I’m the owner.”
“Grace Morrow is the owner.” He smirks and then clarifies. “Was the owner.”
I take a step toward him. “Where’s Quinn?”
He laughs under his breath, and then meets my eyes, smiling like a self-satisfied little prick.
Grabbing him by the collar just as I did his boss a while ago, I haul him up so we’re nose to nose and shove him off. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I growl.
He doesn’t lose his smile. “Trying to decide where I want my bed.” He knocks his knee against the foot of mine, forcing it to bang against the wall again and again. “Maybe a mattress on the floor would be a quieter place to fuck.”
Quinn flashes in my head. “Where is she?”
“Quinn?” he clarifies. “At work, maybe? Or at her new place?”
Her new place?
Holding my eyes, he closes his, laughing again. “You thought she bought your house.”
She didn’t? I retrace the conversation I had with her yesterday. She didn’t deny buying a house. If she didn’t get this one, then…
“I did,” he finally says. “I bought your house.”
I close the distance between us. “What?”
“Or rather, my father bought it for me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I’m shouting now. “You live in Weston.”
“I do.” He slides his hands into his pockets. “But I want a place here too.”
“Why?”
He falls silent, refusing to tell me what his game is. I don’t want him living here. I would never have sold it to him. His name would be on the paperwork, but my mother owns the house. She saw the paperwork, not me.
“You thought bringing your Green Street shit to Shelburne Falls was a good idea?” I charge.
He just shrugs. “You did.”
Yeah, very funny.
“Where is Quinn?” I ask.
Again, he just grins. “I kind of want to tell you that.” Mischief hits his eyes. “You’ll either handle it badly. Or you’ll handle it in a way that brings her closer to you. I mean, that’s what you want, right?” he taunts. “Her close to you? Just like you’re one of her brothers?”
I feel Quinn on the bed next to us, moaning and swaying as she makes herself come. I watched her. I didn’t stop her, and if her brothers knew they’d kill me.
“I remember you,” I tell him. He was one of the kids who hung around sometimes. “You were, what, eleven? Twelve? Who’s your father?”
Most of those kids were from broken homes. Who’s his dad, who lets him run with drug dealers and pimps, but can afford to buy him a house with cash?
He lowers his voice, just loud enough for me to hear. “I remember you too. You installed the motion sensor lights and cameras in the warehouse district. It’s how we track movement and create a buffer at Green Street.” His smile spreads. “Genius. Whatever happened to that guy?”
Fuck you.
But despite my irritation, pride creeps in. Those sensors were a good idea. You can see from miles away who’s moving in the dark and where.
I swallow through the lump in my throat. “What do you want here?”
I left so Madoc, Fallon, Quinn…would all be safe. Being so close now—with his connections to Green Street—is he going to ruin that? Even if I leave?
But to my surprise, he simply says, “I need your help.”
My help?
“And you need mine,” he adds. “If you want her trust back.”