Chapter 15 #2
“You believe him?” Uncle Marty acts like the pause isn’t strange. “No offense to my cousin, but he’s always had a problem with the truth. This sounds like a lot of criminal fantasy. Something to do to pass time while they’re incarcerated. Don’t put any stock in it.”
I frown. When I’ve come to him before with problems, he’s always talked through things with me. He’d give his opinion, but never like this, like he’s trying to push what he thinks on me.
“It doesn’t really sound like fantasy,” I say. “Everything I’ve ever heard about the Kings of Ruin has been that there are lines they don’t cross. They don’t get into trafficking people, and the other two clubs around here say they don’t have Layla or Patch.”
“I don’t know what’s worse, Nova, that you’re believing your dad, or believing those criminals.”
I can hardly believe how he’s talking to me. Even when I was a kid, he didn’t act like I was stupid, but now he’s sounding like every other asshole mansplainer I’ve run across.
“Now, there’s something I need to tell you, but I don’t want to say it over the phone,” he continues. “We need to meet somewhere private.”
“I’m alone right now,” I say. “And if you don’t want me to share what you’re going to tell me with the club, I won’t.”
I’d actually make that decision after I hear what he has to say, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“That won’t work,” he says. “We need to talk in person. Face-to-face.”
There’s a new urgency in his voice that wasn’t there when he talked about Layla, and it sends off all sorts of red flags.
“I’ll talk to Creed,” I say. “I’m sure he’ll let you in the compound so we can talk.”
“No!” he snaps. “You need to meet me somewhere. You must know a way to get out of the compound without anyone seeing you. Sneak out and call me when you’re away.”
And then he hangs up.
Uncle Marty has never hung up on me. Not once.
I stare at my phone screen even after it goes dark, not wanting to process what just happened, because I know when I do, everything is going to change.
There’s a crack in my trust, a nagging feeling that something is seriously wrong.
And for one horrifying moment, I feel more alone than I ever have in my whole life.
Then I remember I don’t have to do this on my own. I have resources.
As soon as I hear the sounds of church being over—basically, the volume increasing—I leave my room and go straight to a part of the clubhouse I’ve never been before.
I’m allowed there, as far as I know, but I never had a reason to visit Cipher’s office before.
Now, I do. I end up getting there at the same time he’s opening the door to the small room at the back of the building.
“Hey,” he says, “Creed’s still in the meeting room.”
“I’m actually here to talk to you.”
Cipher looks a little nervous, but he nods and motions for me to follow him into the room.
It’s more impressive than I expected, with half a dozen security screens on the wall and a trio of computers on a table underneath them.
It all looks top of the line and the simplicity of the rest of the room in comparison was jarring.
“What’s going on?” Cipher asks.
“If I give you someone’s name, can you do some digging into him? Find out if there’s anything new in the last couple months that looks… odd?”
“Yeah. What’s the name?”
“Marty—Martin Reed.”
Cipher doesn’t ask if Uncle Marty is related to me or why I want the investigation. Instead, he tells me something that I don’t know how to take.
“Before the meeting, Creed already put me on to go deeper into your and Layla’s lives,” Cipher admits. “Martin Reed is on my list.”
“Oh,” I say, “okay. Um, when do you think you’ll get to him?”
“You asking about him means I should move him to the top of my list,” Cipher says. “Give me a day.”
I nod and leave, feeling slightly dazed that I’m suspecting Uncle Marty, the one person I could count on, is up to something bad, maybe even something involving Layla.
When I leave the security room, I don’t really have a destination in mind, so when I find myself in the short hall just outside Creed’s office, I’m not really surprised.
If anything, I feel grateful when I see him coming my way.
The moment he sees me, his eyes narrow and he grips my upper arms. “What’s wrong?”
I only mean to give him a quick summary, but when I open my mouth, everything comes spilling out.
Creed doesn’t react, doesn’t interrupt. He just stands there in front of me, the comforting feel of his hands on my arms, and listens.
At some point, I realize his hands are moving up and down, the sort of absent stroking someone does to soothe a person who’s upset.
It’s more comfort than I’ve gotten in a long time, even if it’s not a conscious decision on Creed’s part, and emotion makes my chest tighten.
“Cipher’s the best,” Creed says after I’m finally done. “If there’s anything to find, he’ll find it, but don’t jump to any conclusions. We need to know what we’re up against so we can make a plan.”
I like that he’s using the word ‘we’, making it sound like I’m going to be a part of what comes next.
“I need you to stay inside the compound,” he continues.
“Don’t leave with anyone but me under any circumstances.
We don’t know who’s been stalking the club, but we’ll figure it out.
No one moves through our territory without us learning about it.
We’ll get there, so promise me you’ll wait to do anything. ”
There’s an earnestness to his tone that was missing from Uncle Marty’s, and it’s that, more than any logic, that has me nodding in agreement.
“Good girl,” Creed says before he presses a kiss to my forehead. “Lyssa’s looking for you. Something about manicures and pedicures.”
I manage a smile and make my way back to the main room where Lyssa and a few other girls are waiting. Their chatter and warm smiles keep me distracted for the rest of the day, but when I’m alone again and sitting on my bed, everything comes crashing down on me with a crushing weight.
Burying my face in my hands, I focus on taking slow, deep breaths and telling myself I won’t break down.
Multiple problems all happening at once doesn’t mean they’re all connected, or that they’re things I need to figure out how to handle.
I’ve faced more difficult situations than this, and come through them. I mean, I raised Layla.
Even as I think it, loneliness hits me like a punch to the chest. I curl up on the bed, pressing my hands against my mouth as a whimper escapes.
I’ve been focusing so much on all those other emotions I didn’t realize until this moment just how much I miss Layla.
It’s a pain that steals the air from my lungs and threatens to undo me.
Too busy trying to hold myself together, I don’t even hear the door open or notice Creed enter until he gets on the bed next to me. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me back against his chest. His body is firm and warm, grounding me in a way I don’t think anything else could.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
The soft words are all it takes to break me completely and a quiet sob signals the start of the flood. Creed’s embrace tightens, but he doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t try to make it better. He just holds me and lets me feel safe enough to feel what I need to feel.
I don’t know how long it takes me to cry myself out, only that he’s right there through it all.
When the tears finally stop and my breathing returns to normal, sleep starts to tug at me.
My foggy mind, though, insists that there’s something I need to do.
I can’t think of what it is until Creed shifts behind me.
“Thank you.” My voice is raspy and low, but he hears me.
“Go to sleep, Nova.”
I close my eyes, but a thought keeps me from falling asleep right away. “What’s your name?”
“What?”
“Your name.” I fight to stay awake long enough to satisfy my curiosity. “You know mine. What’s yours?”
He’s quiet for a few seconds and I start to wonder if he’s just going to ignore the question and hope I fall asleep. Then, he says, “Rhett. Rhett Calloway.”
I smile. “That’s nice. Rhett Calloway. Good-night, Rhett Calloway.”
Just before the darkness takes over, I hear him say, “Good-night, Nova Reed.”