My phone gets pulled out so I can dial Whit, wondering how much he knows of her predicament. It rings too long for my liking in this mood, which makes me start walking for the car to get on with whatever I’m going to do.
“What?” he eventually snarls as an opening.
“Is she with you?”
“For fuck’s sake, Malachi. You said you’d keep her safe.”
“Murky word.”
“This is not a time for your fucking attitude and-“
“Close it down Whit. Behave. I’m feeling a little fucking annoyed.” I am, and am getting more so by the minute given she’s not even managed to contact Whit. “Have you heard from her at all?”
“No. Why are you asking me that? Where the hell is she if she’s not with you?”
“Not sure, but I’m hunting.”
“You said you’d bring her back.”
“Complications arose.”
A car door slams in the background, and I listen to his feet walking until the noise disappears. “Malachi. Talk.”
“The only thing I know is she’s been taken to Dallas.”
“WHAT THE FUCK?” I lean back from the volume of his shouting, eyes narrowed at the tone coming back at me. “Holy damn fuck! You said you’d keep her safe, you son of a bitch!”
“I did. And now she’s gone and I want to find her.”
“You’re a fucking asshole and I should never have let you do anything. Fucking bullshit.” He huffs and starts a car engine, making the wheels squeal under him. “If I ever lay eyes on you again, I’m gonna slice you’re head off and feed it to the fucking dogs.”
“Careful, Whit. Calm down.”
“You’re a piece of shit and-“
“We can debate that at another time, but for now, tell me everything I don’t already know so I can attempt chivalrous behaviour.”
He huffs and starts relaying information about the Greenes, about them and her and her family’s connection to them. Father shot in some gangland dispute years ago, mother dead. And my little Alice was the one who got her vengeance. Tommy Greene. The eldest son. Nineteen at the time. One clean shot to his head and then she ran with her brothers, straight to the only person she thought she might be able to trust.
“How old was she when all this happened?” I ask.
“Seventeen. The boys were young.”
“And who are you to her?”
“Used to deal with her father. He’d get the goods out of Dallas and I’d work them over until I could get them shopped out here. We knew each other is all. I was the furthest she knew to run to.” The line goes quiet for a while, as he gets out of the car and starts walking somewhere, making me question what’s about to come next. “If they’ve got her, Malachi, she’s gonna die for it. That’s on you now. Hope you’re happy with your fucking fun and games." I frown and look back at the hanger, pissed that he thinks she’s just been a game. She hasn’t. Still fucking isn’t. “And don’t bother looking for the boys. I’ve got them covered.” He opens a door, stomps on wooden floorboards. “BRETT. BRANDON?” The sound of feet moving lets me know either the two of them, or my team are arriving. “Malachi, get your men out of my face.”
“Sir. Atkins here,” one of my team says across the line.
“Put Whit back on.”
He does.
“This isn’t a fucking game Malachi. Get them gone. I don’t want anyone knowing where we’re going. This is enough for me to get doing the only good thing I’ve done in my life. They need protecting. I can’t help her now, but these boys are not dying because I was stupid enough to let her go with you.” Relatively practical actually.
I frown and stare out into nothing, contemplating my trust levels where Whit’s concerned.
Unable to find a logical reason why they wouldn’t be safer with him alone than with me, I accept the half way solution. “Put Atkins on. Don’t let anyone but her know where they are, including me. She’ll call you when I’ve got her.”
