They both laugh. I wasn’t lying.
“Don’t you have people who do this type of stuff? Order, pay invoices, launder money?”
Skull laughs hard enough that I earned myself a glance from him. “I have people who do things for me, but there are some things I like to do myself. Like with my fish.”
A click of a button and I gain his entire attention. “And Eli. He’s someone I don’t like leaving to other people to attend to. He’s hurt me and my family. So tell, do you have my account numbers?”
CHEVY
WAITING—NOT A VIRTUE. Feels a lot like having my balls slowly cut away from my body. The only solace I have is that the detective who sits in the chair next to me looks just as happy as I am to be left behind. His radio is on, and so far, it’s silent.
Violet went in and now we can do nothing other than wait for her to leave.
Waiting.
Damn, I hate that word.
Violet has at least two police tails in the area. I’m hoping there’s more. As expected, the Riot have people hanging out, too. Oz and Razor have made them. The police have figured out a few, not all of the Riot involved, but as long as everyone continues to play nice, we’ve decided to keep quiet. If we tell, the police will learn I’ve got two unknown people on Violet’s team.
In the police’s defense, the Riot aren’t wearing their cuts, but I’m disappointed. The Riot watching the store are big names and we know them by face and road name in order to stay safe. I’d think the police would have done their homework, especially with Violet’s life on the line.
My cell buzzes and I expect it to be another text from either Oz or Razor asking if I’ve heard anything. The two of them are sitting at an outside table at a restaurant a few doors down from the fish store.
It’s from Oz and it’s a pic of Razor. I grunt-laugh because the kid is wearing a baseball cap, a polo shirt with a collar and Dockers. He’s playing Halloween dress-up as a frat-boy preppie to throw off the Riot. Gotta admit, Razor looks like a stranger to me—except for the eyes.
Razor texts: Oz is wearing the same fucking thing. I’m saving my pics of him for blackmail later. I’m thinking he’s buying beers for the next six months.
Me: Sounds good to me. Anything on Vi?
Razor: Nothing
Fuck me.
Another buzz.
Oz: I think we got problems.
I sit up straighter and the detective looks up from his own cell and watches me like a hawk on a mouse.
Me: What?
Oz: Few minutes before Violet showed, we noticed a blond guy pull up and plant himself at the coffee shop. Problem is—he watches the world more than he’s reading his magazine and he’s watching intently.
Me: Making Violet’s tail is the problem?
Oz: No. The fact that the Riot are noticing him is the problem. They make him and Violet has major problems.
Razor: Riot on the move. Tell him to get the fuck out of there.
“Tell your guy at the coffee shop to get out of there now. The Riot think there’s something wrong with him.”
Detective doesn’t even blink as he talks into the radio. “Kurt, you need to move. You are on the verge of being compromised.”
Confirmation back and Razor texts me: Your guy is moving. Acting like he got a phone call and he’s all pissed off his Tinder date forgot their meeting at the coffee shop. Riot backing off. Smooth move by the police, but now Violet’s down a gun on her side.
If I was a weaker man, I’d be intimidated by the glare the detective’s giving me. Good thing I’m a McKinley, because I see that type of look daily.
Other people radio in that they now spot the new-to-them Riot players and confirm the Riot were questioning the guy at Starbucks.
“Tell me how you knew that,” Barlow demands.
“Oz and Razor are watching at the restaurant down the street. How about you tell me how you’re going to keep Violet safe now that we’re down a man.”
“Your friends being there are putting Violet in danger.”
“My friends just saved Violet and your cop. I’m going to ask one more time, how are you going to protect Violet now that you’ve lost a pair of eyes?”
Oz: I don’t like this. She’s been in there too long and some of the Riot are bugging out. Not all, but some. Do they have eyes on the back of this place?
That humming that saturated my brain after the kidnapping returns and it’s hard as hell to not throw my fist into the wall to try to control it. Me: Police have it under control.
“You sure you know what you’re doing? You have a guy that was almost made and there are Riot leaving the area.”
The detective’s on the radio asking for updates, telling people to watch, telling people to move around. I stand and kick the recycling box into the hallway. Papers fly everywhere. These people have no idea what they’re doing.
Razor: What if they don’t have it under control? I agree, she’s been in there too long. Maybe we pull rank. Maybe we should end this bullshit now.
“What are they seeing?” the detective snaps. “Tell me who exactly is watching my men.”
“Tell me who’s taking care of Violet?” I shout back.
He doesn’t bat an eye as he says, “I am and Violet agreed to let me be the person in charge of this. If you can’t trust me, fine, but trust her. She agreed to all this and was dead set that you follow the plan. I’m down a man, you saved his ass and now I need help making sure everyone else stays in place. Tell me who else is watching that street.”
Oz: I agree with Razor. We should move in on this.
My gut twists and I rub the back of my neck as I try to grab hold of my emotions. The humming grows louder and the only thought is that I want Violet safe. I want her safe and back in my arms.
“Chevy,” the detective says. “Tell me who else is watching the street.”
My cell buzzes again and a decision of which way I’m going on this has to be made.
Violet
MY ENTIRE BODY buzzes with nervous anticipation. Skull just brought up Eli and that’s what I need—him to admit out loud what he’s going to do with the account numbers. “I have the account numbers. Some are for the security business. Some belong to the club.”
Skull’s lips twist into what I believe is a grin. “Excellent. Hand them over and I’ll make sure that the Riot and the Terror live out the rest of their lives in peace.”
But I don’t reach into my back pocket. Those numbers are my only leverage. “What are you going to do with them?”
“We told you. With those numbers we’re going to take care of Eli.”
“Not sure if you remember correctly, but when everything was explained to me, someone you know had just tried to shoot me in the head. Details of anything after that are fuzzy.” No, they aren’t. They are so crystal clear I can smell the mold in the basement, taste the fear on my tongue and shiver with the coldness of the air.
“Are you having a change of heart?” Justin takes out a pocketknife and makes a show of flipping it open. It’s not a long blade, but from the glint I can tell it’s sharp. He begins to clean his nails with the tip. The man’s crazy. Utterly and completely crazy. But he’s sending a message. A very loud and possibly violent message.
“I heard you had a heartwarming moment with Eli yesterday morning,” Justin continues. “Involved pancakes and singing ‘Happy Birthday.’”
I grow light-headed. I’m tired of being watched, tired of being put under a microscope by these men. And I thought the Terror were controlling. “You need to find a new hobby. Watching a teenage girl is a bit sick and perverted. Maybe you should stare at fish like your dad.”
He doesn’t find me funny this time and I’m okay with that. He is sick. He is perverted and someone shou
ld tell him because maybe he doesn’t know.
“If you did your spying correctly,” I say, “you’d also know that Eli and I can’t share air for longer than twenty seconds without screaming at each other. He did the birthday thing so we wouldn’t get into another public screaming match.”
It’s true, but that day we didn’t fight and this will be a testament of how close Justin’s men actually get to me.
“Eli is responsible for my father’s death. If you and Eli didn’t have this stupid feud going on, then my dad would still be alive because he wouldn’t have been driving to Louisville to see you.” I expect a twinge of satisfaction at saying the words I’ve believed for so long, but instead strands of guilt wrap around my heart.
I don’t blame Eli anymore. I don’t blame anyone anymore. Dad died. It was terrible and it was awful, but it just happened. He’s dead and I’m still alive. I breathe out with the floating feeling of release.
“Do you blame us?” Skull asks.
Not really. Not anymore, but I have a hunch a man like this doesn’t understand letting things go. “Yes, but I blame Eli more.”
And I treated him badly for it. I treated the club badly for it. What’s worse is that I broke Chevy’s heart. That, I regret. I lower my head but then lift it back up. What I don’t regret is standing up for myself. Don’t regret becoming my own person. I don’t regret at all who I am.
I am my father’s daughter and I will end this war between the Riot and the Terror here and now. “Explain to me again what you’re doing and I will give you the account numbers. By doing this, you agree to a lifetime of peace with the Terror, you stop watching me and my family and you will no longer hurt people I love. Do you understand?”
Skull’s studying me and I’m studying him right back. He expects me to flinch under his scrutiny, but he’s fucking with the wrong girl.
“I could have Justin pin you down and I could just take the numbers.”
My fear. “You could try, but you’d be screwed considering they’re in my head.” A lie.
Skull relaxes back in his chair and gives a laugh that causes me to want to run screaming to the nearest hot shower and scrub my skin off with steel wool. “I agree to your terms because I like you.”
At least somebody does.
“We’re going to use the account numbers to frame Eli. Put money where it doesn’t belong. Take money away from people who will be pissed it’s missing. We will destroy his reputation with his clients, his friends, his club and his family. He will go to jail, and once in there, he will belong to me.”
I swallow the knot in my throat. Eli survived prison once before, but he has a lot of scars due to his stay that he doesn’t discuss. I thread my fingers through my hair and comb the tangles as I sort through as quickly as possible whether I have everything the detective needs, but there’s this sense of urgency that’s causing me to inch to the edge of the chair.
I’ve been in here for too long and my luck and their patience are about to run thin. Abruptly, I stand and it startles both men. With my hand in the pocket of my jeans, I take two steps back until my other hand hits the doorknob. “This is how it’s going to work. I’m going to give you the account numbers and then I’m going to leave. You aren’t going to follow. You are not going to follow me anymore.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Skull picks up a pen. “Give me the account numbers.”
I turn the knob, and when it gives, I yank the piece of paper containing the numbers out of my back pocket and toss it onto the desk. “I not only memorized the account numbers, but I also wrote them down.”
The door is open, I’m slipping past, Justin is on his feet, Skull is opening the paper, my heart is pounding in my chest, in my ears, a pulse that’s dominating and shaking my entire frame. I’m running down the hallway, but the emergency exit is blocked with boxes and I skid to a stop so I can escape through the store. Then there’s a hand on my wrist and Justin glares down at me. “You’re not leaving yet.”
CHEVY
THE DETECTIVE IS waiting for an answer on where the Riot is positioned, Razor and Oz are blowing up my phone, but the only thing I hear is what the detective said to me moments before... Trust her.
Trust Violet.
It’s what she wants. Violet wants me to trust her choices, her decisions, to back her up when no one else will. She is smart, she is capable, but how can she not understand this overwhelming need I have to protect her, to keep her safe, to keep her locked away in a bubble...to keep her confined in what she’d only see as a prison.
I slide my fingers across the cell, but this time put it to my ear. Oz answers halfway through the first ring. “Tell me you want us to move on this.”
“You’re not moving. She didn’t even want you in this. I brought you in. Violet trusts the police, so we need to trust the police. I need you to get off the phone with me and text me every single Riot you see, what they’re wearing and their location. That is how we’re going to help Violet.”
I hang up and toss my cell to the detective. It begins blowing up again, and after a few beats, he reads the texts aloud on his radio. Exact positions, what the Riot are wearing and people are answering back that they’re moving to avoid detection.
Collapsing back against the wall, I bang my head twice, preferring the physical pain to the emotional.
“You’re saving her life.” The detective pauses while more texts from Oz and Razor come in. “You’re doing the right thing.”
God, I hope so, because I’m nothing without her.
Violet
BILE RISES UP my throat and sweat breaks out along my hairline. Justin’s going to kill me. I know too much, he’s figured out I’m recording them and they never intended to let me leave. “I gave you the account numbers. I did what you asked, now you uphold your end of the agreement.”
Skull steps into the hallway and he’s deadly serious. “She did what we asked. The numbers are legit.”
Legit? My head flinches back. “You already had the numbers?”
“Some of them, but we couldn’t get them all. That’s why we involved you, but knowing a few of the account numbers lets me know if you were giving me bogus information or not.”
Screw this. I kick Justin’s kneecap, his body jerks and he loosens his grip on me and I yank away from him, then draw back. Like my father taught me, I keep my thumb tucked outside my fist and I punch the son of a bitch in the nose. Blood squirts everywhere and he yells out a curse. “What did you do that for?”
His words catch me off guard and I blink as I try to catch my breath. “You weren’t letting me go.”
Justin straightens as he pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and holds it to his nose. “I was going to get you a fish to take home. Jesus, women are crazy.”
Little dots appear in my eyesight and I sway with the fuzziness in my head, but then I laugh. A loud laugh. A weird laugh. A crazy laugh. A fish. He stopped me to give me a fish.
“Follow me.” Justin goes out into the store as he continues to apply pressure to his nose.
Skull appraises me, and while I expect him to give me crap for hitting his son, he merely says, “Your father would be proud of you today—working to bring peace to your club.”
“Yeah, he would be proud.” But not for what he thinks. And with that, I leave.
CHEVY
MY BODY IS on fire. The blood pulsating through my veins is liquid fire. Violet is in my arms and she’s soft and warm and smells so damn good I’m about ready to explode. While on my lap, she gives me this smoldering, under-the-eyelash look of seduction as her fingers playfully wander under my shirt.
She’s going to kill me.
I lower my head, lightly brush my lips against hers, and when she gently presses back, my hands curl into her waist. Soft giggles from her and my tem
ptress pulls back once again. “We have company.”
We do and someday I’m going to kick Oz’s and Razor’s asses for not giving us time alone.
“It’s not like you would find privacy anywhere anyhow,” Razor says like he’s reading my mind. “In case you haven’t figured it out, Pigpen and Man O’ War are on a ten-minute rotation of checking in on us. Their instincts are telling them that this is bigger and badder than their wildest guess.”
The local police arrested Eli and Cyrus this afternoon on charges of speeding and resisting arrest. Neither of them broke either of those laws, but it’s the only way Detective Barlow could talk to them without tipping the Riot’s hand of what’s about to go down.
I didn’t know that was going to happen. In hindsight, I’m glad I didn’t know. Not sure I could have seen this through thinking my grandfather and uncle would be sitting behind bars with their reputations on the line.
But then Violet shifts and her long, silky hair slides against my arm. I turn my head, nuzzle my nose behind her ear, inhale her sweet scent and brush my lips to her skin. She cuddles closer, which is almost impossible with how she’s sitting on my lap.
Across the yard, the clubhouse is lit up against the black night and pissed-off. Pigpen’s been tearing through the cabin, the yard, the clubhouse like a toddler on the warpath. No one besides me, Razor, Oz and Violet understands why Eli and Cyrus were arrested. Until the Riot make their move against Eli and are thrown in jail, no one can know why.
The four of us are in Violet’s bedroom at the cabin. Oz and Razor sit at opposite ends of the window seat. I’m cradling Violet on the bed. Like a calming pendulum, she brushes her fingertips slowly up and down my arm. It’s a reminder that she’s safe, that we’re alive, that we are together.
We’ve been quiet since Louisville. Violet wore a recorder, she got the information the police needed and now we wait for the Riot to mess up and the police to do their job.