“Are you fucking with me right now?” he asks.
“Does it look like we’re fucking with you? Answer the question.” Cason slams him into the wall once, then twice. Just a little extra to get our point across.
“Okay, okay, okay! Fuck. Stop!”
Cason loosens up a tiny bit but still has Jax wrapped up against the wall in a tight hold. I’m impressed that he’s been able to hold him off this long with his injuries.
“I don’t know where the fucker is,” Cason prepares to slam him again, and he leans to his side to brace himself for the pain.
“Wait! Man, chill. I don’t know where he is, but I know he has five grand worth of product on him and hasn’t paid up yet.”
Cason locks eyes with me over his shoulder. “What do you mean?” I ask cautiously.
“I mean cousin-dearest fucking jacked me. He didn’t show up for the trade and isn’t answering his phone. He’s got my money.”
“He’s your cousin?” Cason asks at the same time I ask, “When was the trade?”
“Last night,” Jax says, “and yeah, he’s blood. My dad’s sister’s kid.”
I meet Cason’s eyes again. I glance back to Jax. I check for any sign he might be lying. Jax is easy to read; he doesn’t mask his face nearly as well as he should. I hate to admit it, but I believe him. He doesn’t know shit about Fallon. If he did, he would have slipped by now.
Fuck, this shit just got even more twisted. But I actually think this fucker is telling the truth.
“Let him go,” I say to Cason.
Cason gives me a double take. “Wait, what?”
“Let him go,” I say again.
“Dude, we just jumped him in his own house,” Cason says. “We can’t just let him go.”
“Let him go, Cason,” I say, but this time I’m stern as I meet Cason’s eyes. “Trust me, brother.”
Cason stares at me for a second, evaluating my sanity. I can see it. He thinks I’ve lost it. And while that is very possible, I still believe Jax. I also have a plan and will need to use Jax.
“I hope you know what the fuck you’re doing.” Cason says as he lets go of Jax and backs up. Jax straightens up and faces us but doesn’t make a move on us. He’s outnumbered.
“Who the fuck jumped you?” Jax asks as soon as his eyes lay on Cason.
“Where was the trade?” I ask, avoiding the question. Jax doesn’t need to know what happened to Cason or the extent of his injuries, or he just might try something.
Jax chuckles. “The Depot.”
“You were making a trade on our fucking turf?” Cason snorts, “Shit, that’s kind of genius.”
“I know y’all pay off the cops to keep that place the way it is. Makes it the perfect place for a trade.”
“Stay on track,” I snap. “Where else could Marcus go? Where’s your aunt?”
“Nah, man. No idea. I don’t know him that well. He only comes around when my dad calls him. My aunt lives a few hours from here.”
I watch him closely. I see no ticks, no tells, no indication he’s a lying waste of space.
“Wait, is this about your girl? I heard she left you high and dry at that party. Is that why that fucker took my money? Over your girl?” Jax growls. “She’s starting to become a problem, Jesse.”
I don’t answer him or acknowledge the threat in his tone. I look to Cason. “Let’s go.”
“Hey! Hold up. If you find him, I want my money. You hear me?” Jax yells at us as Cason and I file out of his front door and head down the sidewalk and around the corner to where I’d parked the car. “I want my fucking money, you assholes!”
I reach my car and hop in the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel hard. Cason gets in the passenger seat, slamming the door quickly. He falls into his seat and lets out a groan as he grabs onto his ribs.
“You good man?” I ask.
He points to his ribcage. “This? This ain’t shit.” He chuckles but it quickly turns into a groan. He takes a few deep breaths and readjusts in his seat.
“How long do you think it’ll take?” he asks.
“I don’t know. He’s telling the truth. He may not actually know where Marcus is,” I say with dread. I’m worried because, right now, he’s our only hope at finding the psycho who took Fallon. And that hope is quickly dwindling with every step we make.
“I don’t believe that shit for a minute. Did you hear what I heard? He’s blood,” Cason growls.
“It’s not always about blood,” I say as I intently look at Cason. Cason isn’t my blood brother, but he’s still my family. But I’ll never claim my father, and half my DNA comes from that asshole.
“He knows something. No way he’s completely in the dark,” Cason says fiercely. “So, what do we do now?”
Just as soon as the words fall out of Cason’s mouth, I look through a break in the hedges we’d parked behind and see Jax bounce out of his crib and head straight for his car, stopping briefly to check his surroundings. He’s looking for us, but I was smart enough to park somewhere he couldn’t spot us easily. Where are you going, Jax?
“We follow him.”
Marcus had us packed up, or rather himself packed up, within ten minutes after his visitor left. I felt more like a piece of his luggage than anything else. Either way, we were in his truck flying down the road in no time. He didn’t even give me a full hour to accept the fact that whatever chance I had at being rescued is about to become non-existent. I’m not even sure where we are headed.
When he’d tugged me outside to his truck, still handcuffed, I’d hoped a neighbor, a car driving past, or even a kid on a bicycle riding by would see us. But my luck is staying strong—in the wrong direction. There hadn’t been a soul outside but us. He’d yanked me to his truck, tossed me in, locked the doors and quickly rounded the front to the other side. It’s not like I could have gotten out with my hands behind my back anyway. But damn it, I’d have tried to run or scream if I’d thought I could’ve.
But as we drove off, what hit me hardest was the fact that I’d only been five minutes from Jesse’s house this entire time. I’d recognized the houses and roads as we’d passed by, and it makes me sick to know that Jesse was right there. If only I’d gotten out. I could have made it to his house, even cuffed. Or to a neighbor’s house to ask for help. Any of those options would have been good ones.
Marcus keeps driving to the outskirts of town. He eventually pulls into the parking lot of a run-down, crappy-looking motel. Motels aren’t fancy by nature, but this one looks particularly shady, like something you’d find in a movie about drug lords and prostitutes. He drives past the front office and heads to the farthest corner of the parking lot, pulling his truck into a spot in front of the very last door, out of sight, out of mind from the world. Marcus has his door open before he even turns off the truck. He quickly grabs his bag out of the back and comes for my door.