Isaiah #2
I bit my tongue as we kept moving toward the Santa line, knowing if I said something, it would ruin the night for our wives.
The only time Dash stopped to have an actual conversation was when an older man with a protruding belly pulled him in for a short, backslapping embrace.
“You hear anything yet?” the man asked.
Dash shook his head. “No. Nothing.”
“Goddamn it.” The guy kicked at the snow with a heavy black boot. “You call me if you need anything.”
“Will do, Louie. Appreciate it.” Dash slapped him on the back once more, then nodded for us to keep walking.
When we were a few steps away, Bryce glanced behind us. “Is that the same Big Louie who used to be in the club?”
“Yeah. He used to be a King.”
I leaned in to whisper in Genevieve’s ear. “Did you look into him?”
“Yes,” she whispered back.
“I’m going to have to go through your notebook and catch up.”
“So am I,” Bryce said, joining in our conversation.
She giggled. “By all means.”
“Louie bought the bowling alley in town a while back,” Dash told us. “He doesn’t come to the garage often, but he keeps in touch with Dad.”
We took up our spot at the tail of Santa’s line. Kids weaved through their parents’ legs as they ran around and played. The scent of a campfire filled the air from where they’d set up a marshmallow-roasting station.
“You want some hot chocolate?” I asked Genevieve and Bryce, receiving two nods. Dash stayed with them while I went to grab four cups from a stand on the other side of the street. I was handing Genevieve hers when a prickle ran up my spine.
My shoulders tensed and I twisted to look behind me. I’d spent three years in prison learning what it felt like to be watched. Someone was staring at me, but who?
I scanned the crowd. Nothing seemed odd. People were enjoying themselves, laughing and talking. The street was packed with people and not one seemed to care about me.
I shifted closer to Genevieve as she gabbed with Bryce.
The hairs were still raised on my arms, my gut screaming, and when I looked at Dash, his eyes were scanning the crowd. He’d felt it too.
Dash put his arm around Bryce, holding her close.
I did the same with Genevieve, tucking her into my side.
“You okay?” She wrapped her arm around me, tipping her chin up.
“Yeah. Just a strange feeling. It’s gone now.”
“Dash.” Emmett’s voice carried through the crowd as he strode our way, Leo just a few steps behind.
Their expressions were ice cold and not from the weather.
“What?” Dash asked.
Genevieve tensed as they inched closer to talk so no one around us would hear.
“Leo and I were walking in,” Emmett said. “Saw a group of Warriors.”
“Fuck.” Dash cursed first but it was only a split-second before my own. “Thought maybe we’d catch a break and they’d give up on us.”
“Guess not,” Leo muttered.
“What do we do?” Bryce asked.
“Nothing, babe,” Dash answered. “We keep an eye out. Stay together.”
The mood shifted as we stood in line. None of us spoke. We only shuffled forward as our place in line progressed.
“Hey, guys!” We all turned at Presley’s happy voice. Her white pixie cut was covered by a slouchy beanie. Her smile faded as she reached our group. “What’s wrong?”
“Warriors.”
Presley stood on her toes to look around. When her eyes landed on something behind us, she froze.
Three men wearing Warrior cuts over their coats were talking to a lanky guy with a cigarette pinched between two fingers.
“What the fuck is Jeremiah doing?” Leo barked.
Wait, that was Presley’s fiancé? Why was he talking to the Warriors?
“Those are the Warriors?” Presley asked, her eyes widening as she turned to Dash. “I didn’t know. Jeremiah told me they were a couple guys he met playing poker. They come over sometimes.”
“To your house?” Emmett asked.
She nodded, her face paling. “They didn’t wear those vests.”
“Goddamn it.” Dash rubbed his jaw. “So they haven’t been lying low. They’ve been here this whole fucking time.”
“Do you talk to them?” Leo asked Presley.
She shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“About what?”
“Nothing. I don’t know. One of them asked me where I worked. They talked to me about the wedding. It wasn’t anything important. Mostly they came over, hung out for a while and then Jeremiah went out with them.”
“Did he know they were Warriors?” Emmett asked her.
She closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”
Genevieve stiffened at my side. We’d been fools to think they’d believed us. Convincing as she was, Genevieve had lied to their faces. Either the Warriors knew, or they suspected.
When they found out, I was a dead man.
“We’re up.” Bryce nudged Dash for their turn at pictures. They smiled but neither’s reached their eyes.
When it was time for Genevieve and me to go up, I didn’t want there to be strain in our faces. This might be the only picture the two of us would have together. So right before we were ushered in for our pictures, I took Genevieve’s face in my hands. “Block them out.”
“How?”
I dropped my lips to hers, letting the kiss linger for a long moment. I savored the soft feel of her lips and the smell of her hair.
When we broke apart for our picture, she had a rosy glow on her cheeks and a little smile on her face. Picture or not, I’d remember that look until the end of my days.
Even if that end was right around the corner.
“I’m an icicle.” Genevieve’s teeth chattered as we hurried to the car.
The seats were going to be cold inside, but a breeze had picked up as we’d left the stroll and I was ready to get her out of its path.
We weaved through the cars in the grocery store’s full parking lot. An overhead lamp cast a glow on the trunk. Genevieve beeped the locks.
My steps slowed. “What the fuck?”
Genevieve gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. “What is that?”
“Give me the keys.” I took them from her. “Stay here.”
She didn’t listen. As I crept closer to the car, her hands clutched the back of my coat.
There was a small animal on the trunk of her car. Dead. A baby pig. Its throat had been slashed and its blood was freezing to the car. It hadn’t been there long because some of it still dripped onto the snow.
“Oh my God.” Genevieve spun away, burying her face in my chest. “Was it them? The Warriors?”
It had to be. Who else would do this? My eyes were glued to the animal as I pulled off a glove and dug my phone from my pocket. I pressed Dash’s name.
“Hey,” he answered. “I can’t talk right now. Someone broke out the window to my truck.”
Not someone, the Warriors. Dash and Bryce hadn’t parked at the store. They were on a residential side street. The Warriors had been busy searching for both vehicles. “Someone sent us a message too.”
As I told him about the pig, Genevieve burrowed into me deeper.
“Take a picture,” Dash ordered. “Clean it up. Then get the fuck out of there.”
I ended the call without another word and took Genevieve’s hand, pulling her toward the store. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Get some garbage bags. Clean it up, then home.”
She nodded, picking up her steps to match my pace. The color had drained from her face.
The store was deserted save for a lonely cashier reading a book at the checkout line. He rang up our garbage bags and we hustled for the car.
“Get in,” I ordered.
“I can hel—”
“Get. In. Lock the doors.”
She didn’t argue, going to the driver’s side, shutting herself inside and clicking the locks. She started up the car as I took a picture, then wrapped the pig in two garbage bags.
I wiped off as much blood as I could, but the car would need a wash. Then I took the bags to a Dumpster beside the store, ignoring the signs to keep out.
With it disposed, I jogged to the car and got inside. My gray gloves were wet and stained with blood.
“What are we going to do?” she whispered, gripping the wheel.
“We hold tight. We stick together.” If the Warriors knew, they would have done much more than kill a pig. They were intimidating us. They were trying to force a confession. We had to stay strong until there was no other choice. “This was just a scare tactic.”
Her worried eyes met mine. “Mission accomplished.”