“Then tell us,” Theo says.
“I wish I could, but I can’t.”
Silence engulfs us, and tension slithers into the air like thick, black smoke.
“What can you tell us?” Lo asks. “Did you find out how Ruben got his hands on the video of me killing Luke McKenzie?”
“I’m narrowing it down,” he cryptically says, looking cagey.
“I’m calling bullshit.” Saint drums his fingers on the table.
Diesel ignores him, concentrating on Lo. “I’m sorry to hit and run, but I’ve somewhere to be. Just hold tight for another couple days. I’ll have intel then and a way for you to end The Bulls.”
“How?” Theo sits up straighter.
Diesel stands. “All in good time, Theo.”
“You expect us to trust you when you’re obviously hiding stuff? Intel that could keep Lo safe?” Saint says.
“Listen, punk.” Diesel lunges across the table at Saint, but Lo pulls him back.
“Quit that shit, Diesel. Why can’t you tell us now?”
He rubs his temples. “I know a lot of this doesn’t make sense, but I’m keeping stuff back for a reason. Please trust me. I have your best interests at heart, and I’m putting myself on the line to do that. I’m working on an angle, and I promise I’ll tell you everything when it’s fully lined up.” His gaze bounces around the room. “Until then, lay low. Keep Harlow away from your father and those perverted bastards.” His teeth grind as he eyeballs Saint.
We all look to our leader. Even Lo. And I silently beseech Saint to do the right thing because she’s looking to him to do that. Not that she can’t or won’t make that call. She needs to see him do it.
“Okay,” Saint says after a few beats of awkward silence. “But if you’re screwing us, we’ll screw you back.”
“That’s not how I roll,” Diesel says, kissing the top of Lo’s head. “Stay safe.”
“You too,” she says.
We watch as he strides toward the door like he owns the fucking air we breathe. He turns around at the last second, his hand curled around the door handle. “One final thing. No more stunts like last night. I can’t help you if the cops are breathing down your necks.”
Saint flips him off. “We know how to cover our tracks.”
Diesel rolls his eyes. “Evidently not.” He fixes one final glance in Lo’s direction before walking outside.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask.
“That he’s watching our every move,” Theo says, frowning, and I know he’ll take this personally. Like he’s somehow failed us because he can’t stop Diesel from following our trail.
“It’s time we repaid the favor,” Saint says, standing. “Come on. We’re leaving now.”
“To go where?” Lo asks, jumping up.
Chairs scrape as we all stand.
“We’re following the old man. Let’s see what’s so important he had to leave.”
CHAPTER 31
Harlow
I TURN OFF the stove and leave the envelope with the fake IDs Diesel gave me on the kitchen counter. It seems his influence knows no bounds and, somehow, he forced Johnny into handing over my new identification. How simple that plan seems now, and it’s so far removed from my current reality it’s almost laughable.
I won’t run, because my enemies will only chase after me. I don’t doubt Diesel has the resources to hide me, but I refuse to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder and jumping at my own shadow.
“I’m still pissed you added a tracker to his car without telling me,” I say when we’re all safely inside the Lexus and on the move. Theo is frantically stabbing buttons on his iPad, doing what he does best.
“And that’s why we didn’t tell you,” Saint replies, and I flip him off. He smirks at me over the console. “Babe, I know you trust him, but he’s keeping shit from us, and we need to know what.”
“He’s a dangerous fucker,” Caz says, and I narrow my eyes at him through the mirror. “Hey.” He holds up his hands from the back seat. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m telling it like it is. He’s a highly trained mercenary who kills people for a living. We know he’d never hurt you, but the jury’s out on our asses.”
“Especially since Saintly is determined to piss him off any chance he gets,” Theo notes without lifting his head from his tablet.
“You can all fuck off with your Saintly,” Saint says, and a smile lifts the corners of my mouth.
“Done,” Theo says, and I glance over my shoulder, lifting a brow. “I’ve synced the tracking device to the GPS system in the car.” He sits back in the seat. “I also changed the code on the gate. I’ve messaged you the new one.” He pins me with a warning look. “Diesel is not to know that.”
I hate that they don’t trust him, but I can’t really blame them, which is why I didn’t go postal on their asses when they told me what Galen had done. I nod at Theo, and he smiles back at me, knowing he doesn’t need to confirm where my loyalty lies.
Saint fiddles with a few buttons, grinning like a madman, as he stares at the red dot moving on the map when it loads. “Looks like he’s heading out of Prestwick,” he adds.
“Keep a safe distance behind him,” Theo says. “He might recognize the car.”
Saint rolls his eyes, before glancing at me. “Did he say anything outside that was helpful?”
“No. He just flipped his lid over the initiation tasks and begged me to skip town.”
“What was in the envelope?” Galen asks.
“A fake driver’s license and passport.”
“They might come in handy,” Saint says.
“Only if we get some for all of you, because I’m not going anywhere without you.”
A different kind of heaviness settles in the air, and I wonder if I’ve said too much, but fuck it, I’m not hiding behind an emotionless wall anymore. They might be afraid to confront their feelings, but I’ve scaled that beast and come out the other side. I’m still scared, because I’m navigating new terrain, but I’m done pretending.
“I can make that happen,” Theo says. “Because we’re not letting you out of our sight.”
“Ever,” Saint adds, stretching his arm across the console to squeeze my hand.
Tears prick my eyes, but for once, they are happy tears.
Nothing else is said, but that’s okay, because nothing else needs to be said.
“He’s slowing down,” Saint says ten minutes later when we reach the large public park and woodland on the outskirts of Fenton.
Saint follows his route through the park, pulling into the far end of the parking lot and killing the engine. It’s late afternoon, and the sun is starting to set, but there are still a ton of people around. Families taking young kids to the playground. Couples out walking dogs. Joggers and cyclists. But it’s the dark-haired man sitting on the bench beside Diesel who has claimed our interest.
Acid churns in my gut as I watch Diesel discreetly chatting with the DEA agent.
“I fucking knew we couldn’t trust that motherfucker,” Saint says, anger simmering in his tone.