“I can’t believe Jamie agreed to your doing this.”
“Agreed to it? This is a favorfor him.”
My brows furrow. “He told you to abduct me? To a seedy motel? I don’t think so.”
War grabs me and slides me out of the truck. “There wasn’t time to discuss specifics.” He flings the doors shut and grabs my arm again when I try to move away. “And no, he won’t like the way this went down. But when you act like a fucking brat, I’ve gotta improvise.”
With a slack-jawed expression, I stare at him.
“You gonna walk? Or do you need to be carried like a baby doll?”
He’s out of his mind. Does he really expect me to believe Jamie—who knows him—would have him take me anywhere?
“I’ll walk.” My gaze scans the motel room windows. All the curtains are closed, but two have slivers of light framing the curtains. It’s only nine-thirty. If I start screaming, I should be heard. The question is… should I?
War points. “Room 103.”
My shuffling gait is slow but steady as I walk toward the door. I reason that if War wanted to take me to a location where no one would hear me scream, that’s what he would’ve done. So maybe he’s telling the truth?
War unlocks the motel room door and flicks on the light.
I enter and sit at the cheap dinette table. He swings the door shut and sits on the end of the bed, consulting his watch. A stillness settles over him. So, at least the part where he said we’d wait in the room seems credible.
After several moments of silence, I tilt my head. “Why the water slide?”
He looks up, staring at the wall rather than looking at me. “It’s cover.”
Studying his profile, I say, “I don’t know what that means.”
After a beat, he turns so his body’s angled in my direction. Flipping a hand in a vague gesture, he says, “Needed an excuse to come upstairs to get you. Said I was coming to the kids’ party tomorrow and needed to talk to you about the joint gift we were gonna get.” His dark eyes rake over me. “If the situation goes right. We’ll wrap the fucking box and give it to Trick’s sons tomorrow.”
“A water slide? It’s the middle of winter.”
“So?” His brow cocks. “It’s not fucking Narnia. Summer’s coming eventually.”
“Big C.S. Lewis fan?”
He sighs heavily, as though conversation is the biggest waste of time since doomscrolling. After checking his watch, he pops his knuckles. “What did J tell you about his work?”
“Nothing.” Licking my lips, I shake my head. “But I know about his cousin’s past arrests from the net. And that C Crue is a criminal organization.”
“Yeah?” He leans forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “So, what the fuck’s a good girl still doing hanging out with him?”
“Maybe I’m not that good.”
A black brow rises again, communicating his skepticism. “What happened in Connecticut?”
“Information being on a ‘need to know’ basis cuts both ways.” My voice sounds hard and slightly smug. Which pleases me. “Anything Jamie wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”
The corner of War’s mouth twitches, like he’s close to smirking.
Resting my elbows on the table, I lean forward. “Stroviak, that’s the last name of one of Scott’s partners, right?”
“Scott?”
“Scott Patrick. Ash’s brother.”
“Ah. No one calls him that.”
