“Yes.”
The fuck did I have to lose? I was playing into Crush’s fantasies of living up to his name. In fact, if I was wrong and Crush looked bad, maybe my words would resonate with him more. Maybe a failure and a lashing from King would make him want vengeance even further.
“Maybe you being a pussy and hiding for a year actually did some goddamn fucking good,” Crush said. He pulled out his phone and checked something. “King wants to speak to you.”
“Why?” I said.
That drew an arched eyebrow from Crush. Fuck.
I had really underestimated the consequences of this potential meeting.
I could only hope that in the long run, it would do what I’d hoped, because it was probably going to be the last fucking meeting I’d ever have with him.
“He wants to hear what you told me.”
“See?”
Fuck it, I decided. I was going to lean into my earlier point. At worst, Crush would get hot-tempered…and maybe forget King wanted me and threaten to beat my ass. I’d run, like a fucking coward, but I’d live.
And sometimes, being a coward was just the fucking practical thing to do. Being a brave hero usually meant being a dead hero, and that wasn’t something I was particularly enamored with right now.
“This is what I mean. This was your fucking meeting, Crush. I wanted to speak with you. And you have. And you’ve learned a lot. And now what? King comes and takes the credit?”
“He’s the fucking president!”
“And you’re the fucking dog on his leash!”
Crush slammed the table with his fists. I had no idea how he had the self-control not to launch at me and beat my ass, because I’d already braced myself for that. It was a fucking miracle.
“Think about it, Crush,” I said. “He’s a man in his fifties. You’re the most physically imposing man I know—if not, you’re at least tied for it. And you’re going to obey him for what? His resources? You have everything you could ever want. Except freedom.”
That hit Crush. I could see the fire briefly go out in his eyes, replaced almost by, if I was honest, despair. There was a hell of a lot fucking more than I knew about going on there, but I’d accomplished what I needed to do.
“I’ll meet with King later,” I lied. “But think about it Crush.”
I stood up and left supposedly in an angry huff, but more to get the fuck out of that Starbucks. The baristas stared at me, not that I cared. When I opened the door and left, Crush had not left his chair.
And the instant I got out of sight of that coffee shop, I sprinted like a fucking madman for my bike. I covered five minutes of walking in barely over a minute, running past oncoming traffic, hopping on, and speeding for the house I stayed at, a home rented through cash.
And only when I got to my current home, hunkered in my room, and watched through the windows for a good half hour did I finally feel safe.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. With heavy breathing, wondering if King would taunt me by text, I grabbed my phone. It was just Sonny.
“Get in touch with Callie. Need you two to be at the place before Saturday morning. We need your spot.”
Guess I’ve got a road trip tomorrow in my future.
Callie
There was something so on edge to Ash when I saw him the next afternoon, I almost thought of just not saying anything for the entire duration of the car ride.
Although he’d been acting paranoid almost every waking moment from the time I first saw him in Phoenix, there seemed to be a special edge to him today. As he approached my car, he moved skittishly, shaking almost.
“You OK?” I said.
“I pissed off the wrong person yesterday,” he said. “Let’s just get in the car and get somewhere safe. I’ll explain the rest when we’re on the road. Does anyone else know where you live?”
I looked at him in surprise.
