Chapter 52 Zeth
Zeth
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were Rebel’s cousin?”
Michael’s out of his dirty, bloodstained clothing and back in a well-tailored suit, the way I’m used to seeing him.
I’ve thought about laying the motherfucker out for keeping something so huge from me, but it’s wasted energy.
He has a right to keep shit like that under lock and key.
And making him bleed would only mean he’d have to go get changed again.
“Not my call, Zee. I’d have told you way back when, but Rebel doesn’t want people knowing about family, y’know? Thinks it’s a weakness to have people out there worth kidnapping and torturing. Bad for business. Especially if you’re in the kind of business he’s in. He has enemies. Scary ones.”
I grunt, knocking back my beer. “Makes sense. Still…”
“Yeah, I know. I know. I could have trusted you with it. I should have.”
Michael knows Rebel bid to fuck Sloane in that hotel room.
He also knows how I feel about sick motherfuckers who kidnap girls and rape them against their will.
I’m quiet about most things, but this is perhaps the one thing I have been vocal about.
Maybe he thought I would have judged him for his blood.
“You heard from him since Jacob’s call, then?” I ask.
Michael nods, collecting a beer from the ice bucket by the pool and sitting down to join me. “That’s why I came to see you. He’s coming here.”
I point to the floor at my feet. “Here? Rebel’s coming here? Why?”
“For the event? To fuck with Jacob? To screw some girls? I don’t know. He just told me to expect him.”
This is fantastic news. Fan. Fucking. Tastic.
At once, a parade of problems present themselves, giving me an instant headache.
Will he recognize Sloane? Eli, the PI I killed, must have shown him photos for him to have bid so fucking high on a night with her.
Will he behave himself ? Will he do something that my temper will not fucking tolerate?
Alongside all of that, small advantages present themselves, too, though.
If Rebel is here, Jacob’s gonna be on his best fucking behavior.
He’s gonna be distracted, trying to shove his nose so far up Rebel’s ass that he won’t be paying attention to me.
Or Sloane. Or one of his girls being snuck out of the place.
Plus… I’ve never met Rebel. I’ve only heard his name spoken among the bike gangs and the cartels, whispered like the man’s a fucking god or something.
This is a prime opportunity to meet the guy and see what he’s like for myself.
To put a face to the name. And commit it to memory for later so I can beat him to death, should the need arise.
“You listening to me, man?” Michael’s already downed his beer and is holding out a fresh one to me, too. “I thought you were leaving Lace with the doctor? Where is she?”
“Oh. With Sloane’s parents.” I pull on my fresh beer, mulling that one over. The whole thing is kind of ironic. And worrying.
“Aren’t they super religious?”
“Yeah. Her dad’s a minister. Doesn’t get more religious than that.”
Michael smiles politely, although I can tell the fucker’s grinning on the inside. “And do they know about Lacey’s girl-on-girl tendencies? Or the fact that she’s dead set on killing herself at the earliest available opportunity?”
That last comment sparks panic in me. Lacey may have taken to playing with the odd girl here and there, but she isn’t gay.
Wouldn’t matter to me if she was, mind you.
And I get it. Eating pussy’s addictive. But Lacey’s only been toying with the fairer sex of late because she’s afraid.
Afraid of guys. Women are softer. Kinder.
There’ll come a time when Lace’ll go back to fucking men, I think.
No, my panic has everything to do with the other thing.
The dying thing. Sloane may have told her parents to watch Lace like a hawk, but they don’t have the first clue how messed up the girl is.
They don’t know her like I do. She’s committed to this course of action.
I need to speak to Sloane. Scratch that.
I need to speak to Sloane’s fucking dad. If she dies on his watch…
Michael brings me back from thoughts of murder. “Does Sloane have a problem with Lacey?”
What a weird fucking question. My beer bottle only makes it halfway to my lips. “What? No. Why would she?”
This has Michael chuckling, shaking his head. “You’re so clueless. You’re fucking Sloane, yet you’re so protective over Lacey. The doc’s gonna assume you’re fucking her, too. Or that you used to fuck her.”
I love Michael like a brother, but sometimes he’s a stupid shit. “Sloane doesn’t care about my exes. She probably wouldn’t care if I was fucking Lacey. She’s not that kind of girl. All she cares about is finding her sister. I’m a means to an end.”
Michael looks at me like I’m the stupid shit. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Well, she’s not asked me for anything.” And they all ask me for something. A phone number. A second date. A marriage proposal. Meanwhile, Sloane has repeatedly asked for me to get the hell out of her life.
Michael reaches over and slaps me on the back. He looks oddly bemused. “If you believe that, my dear friend, you’re the dumbest motherfucker alive.”