However, Kade already has his phone out. He turns the device around to Mads, and Zeb stands up to see the photo he’s brought up on the screen.
“No fucking way,” Zeb grunts.
“That’s Hal,” Mads says. “Damien, Pat, T… All of Rad’s shithead pals. Where the hell did you get this picture?”
“And when the fuck did they take it?” Zeb asks. “That’s after we kicked him out. Look—he didn’t get that neck tattoo until after Bonnie joined us.”
“Son of a bitch,” Mads mumbles.
“Which one is Hal?” Gemma asks.
Kade sighs when he looks at her. “The one I couldn’t find a visual on.”
“Fuck,” she grunts.
I don’t like whatever is happening right now.
“Wait. You’re saying this Hal guy you met in prison is also friends with Rad?” I ask.
“More likely his keeper,” Zeb mutters.
“Why did I hear the names Hal and Damien?”
The four of us turn at the sound of Wren’s voice. She, Andi, and Reed are in the open door, gift shop goodies in their hands.
Though, the warm welcome is overshadowed by the sudden fear on Wren’s face.
Gemma winces as she sits up. “I’m in too much pain to keep up with all of this,” she mutters. “I need someone to spell it all out.”
“How do you know Hal?” Zeb asks Wren.
“I…” Wren swallows. “My brother,” she answers.
Reed sets the massive teddy bear onto the side table and reaches for her hand.
“Did your brother work for him?” Kade asks.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Sometimes when Travis was in and out of rehab, I heard him saying he owed Hal money. I thought he was just a drug dealer.”
“Was your brother ever into gambling? Sports betting?” Kade asks.
Wren gives him a look. “He was into everything.”
“Motherfucker,” Mads mutters as Andi goes to stand beside him. “God, this is great.”
“Well, it’s been fun, guys,” Zeb says, clapping his hands. “We had a good run. Might be time to flee the country.”
“Change our names, at the least,” Mads says.
“So much for the album,” Zeb adds.
“Okay, let’s everyone take a beat,” Kade says.
“Kade’s right,” Gemma says. “No one is fleeing the country or changing your names. But Zeb, youaremoving. So, start packing your shit. We will find a space in the same building as everyone else. I don’t care if I have to pay someone to move.”
“Dammit, I like that place—”
“As the person in charge of your safety, I am telling you I want all of you in that fucking building,” she says, obvious pain threading her tone. “I’m not making that mistake again. You don’t leave without telling us. You don’t go anywhere without an escort. This just got ten times more serious than someone simply wanting revenge on only one of you—not that that was ever simple, but at least it was only one.Allof you have your hands in this now. It’s personal.”
