Putting my phone in my purse, I sit back. I’ll wait to text until I’m no longer alone with him.
35
JAMIE
Iwake at ten-thirty with echoes of a vague nightmare in my head. It’s something to do with Clare Duffy pushing Sauce off the Kerry Cliffs in Ireland. Since I never dream about the girls I’m fucking, I have to wonder what the hell’s up with my head.
Sweating whiskey, I grab my phone to text Sawyer before I remember the relationship’s ended.
Yeah, over.Christ, that brings a raw sensation to my chest, as though someone’s dragging glass across my heart.
Clenching my teeth, I shake my head at the urge I still have to text her.
Not happening.
Laying a hand over my replacement St. Christopher medal, I draw in a deep breath. The St. Chris medal I got from my grandparents is buried with Jude because he lost his on the day he was assaulted.
I’m close to avenging him. Until that’s done, vengeance needs to be my focus.
When I get up and leave my room, I glance over at War’s bedroom door, which is closed.
I hit the head and chug an electrolyte drink before pulling on clothes to go kayaking. I need to be outside to clear my head.
When I exit through the apartment door, the cold is bracing, and the air smells of salt and algae.Perfect.
I jog down the metal steps and grab the kayak from the shed. Within minutes, I’m on the water and paddling upstream at a hard clip. Nothing centers my mind faster than being on the water while sucking icy air into my lungs.
The workout is long enough for me to develop a warm, satisfying sweat under my clothes. It’s so familiar, it takes the edge off my frustration.
By the time I re-enter the house, War’s in the kitchen drinking a sports drink. Great minds think alike. I nod a greeting as I walk toward the hall.
“J—”
Pausing, I turn to look at him.
“Let’s take a walk.”
Walking outside to have a sensitive conversation is part of our training. And it hammers home my dilemma. Do I involve him in this? I shouldn’t. War’s a good mate, and this isn’t his problem. It’s mine and mine alone.
Pulling up the neck of my shirt, I use the fabric to wipe sweat from my temple. “Forget last night.” I release the shirt, letting it fall back into place. “Seriously. Whiskey talk is nonsense.”
“Let’s take a walk.”
In a low voice, I say, “Your uncle’s grooming you for a larger role in the Crue. Last thing I want is to get you into something that ends that.”
War grabs his coat and stalks over to the door. “Might be a way around it.”
I give him a meaningful look. “There isn’t.”
He shrugs and guzzles the rest of his drink before pitching the plastic bottle. It sails the distance and drops into the trash. “Yeah, well, I’m in anyway.”
My reaction to his announcement is mixed. I always planned to carry out my revenge alone. But now that I have connections to the target’s family, my alibi needs to be airtight. Accomplishing that on my own will be nearly impossible.
Grabbing my coat, I join War, and we leave the C Crue house.
Walking along the waterfront, War’s silent as he waits for me to start speaking. There’s a fist in my throat that prevents it.
Finally, I draw a deep breath and force myself to speak. “When he was young, my brother was taken. We got him back for a while. Then, he died, because of what happened while he was gone. I now know who took him.” Stopping, I stare out at the water. “I’m gonna ruin the man’s life. As I swore I would.”
