Seb grimaced. “Right. Almost forgot about that guy… I swear the repair guy is delaying repairs just to charge me more.”
When movement in the line ground to a stop because some guy at the front complained about being underpaid, I opted to lean against the concrete wall of the basement.
Seb didn’t join me but instead crossed his arms and shifted on the spot. Like he was struggling to find the right words for what he wanted to say next.
This was the first time in a few days we had a chance to catch up.
“What’s going on with you and Kira?” I asked. There wasn’t any point dancing around the subject. I was possibly too concussed to use tact.
Seb shrugged and offered me a smile that wasn’t very convincing. “Just friends.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Just?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Lily told me you guys had sex.”
He scoffed. “Since when did you two become a couple of gossips? You’re worse than their neighbor Susan.”
I waited for a better explanation, deadpanning at him.
Seb’s jaw clenched when he realized there was no avoiding the conversation. “I’ve got some shit going on, and maybe Kira needs to heal first before jumping into anything. Don’t get me wrong, I really like her—”
“What kind of shit?”
“Hm?”
“You said you have some shit going on.”
Seb paused, watching me carefully.
I rejoined the line as it started moving again. “You really don’t wanna tell me?”
“I need your help.” He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “Anita didn’t want me doing anything, but someone hurt my family, and I need to hurt them back.”
“Understood.” I looked down the line. “What did you have in mind?”
“Coercion.”
I nodded once. “Easy enough. When are we doin’ this?”
A proud smile twitched in the corners of his mouth as he crossed his arms. “Tonight, if you’re up for it.”
“Always.”
Chapter 21
Dean
The motel’s underground parking garage was void of people but filled with plenty of cars. It was also dark in places where the fluorescent lights had blown, providing plenty of cover to wait in.
I sat in the car, sucking on a Dum Dums lollipop and casually scanning the parking garage for any sign of movement. The sweet, raspberry flavor of the candy blended with the fading taste of blood on my tongue.
Not too far away from where I was, a biker waited. Dressed in all black and hidden in the shadows with his helmet on and motor off.
Seb and I estimated John Wilson, a kindergarten teacher, would be finishing his poker game with friends in a few minutes. How Seb got that information was a mystery to me.
The exit door to the parking garage stairwell slammed shut. The echo bounced through the dark space, followed closely by the footsteps of Mr. Wilson as he headed to his car — a Prius with a faulty back window and an equally faulty locking system.
