He frowns. Not a good sign. I should have sent South, but he would have maimed the poor woman for being useless. We’re all on edge with the cops breathing down our necks. Yes, we have abilities, but they are not nearly as strong as they used to be.
Bill runs his fingers through his long hair and sighs. “Bitch about talked my ear off about everything else. She somehow knew how much I have in my bank account down to the penny but didn’t know anything we could use. Think she’s crazy. She said she thought the FEDS were behind it and trying to frame us.”
My head jerks back and I sarcastically laugh. “Why the fuck would the FBI have us on their radar right now? And why go to all the trouble of killing those women just to soil our names? We do that enough on our own. If they wanted to question us, they would. You’re right. She is out of her mind. Why would she even mention the FEDs?”
“No clue. Besides, we still have Johnson on our payroll, don’t we?”
“Sure do,” I answer him, flipping my kickstand down and let it take the weight of my motorcycle. I cannot say I believe one bit of Cece’s wild theories, but it makes me worry. The first finger a small-town hairdresser points should not directly land on the FBI. Something isn’t adding up. I need to get her alone in a room with South or myself, and it’s on me for letting Bill go instead of South.
“Did you ask her why she thought it was them?”
“Mmmhmm. Of course, I did. She rattled on about how she saw a black unmarked van sitting outside the clubhouse the last time she left my room freshly fucked.”
“Why in the hell didn’t you lead with that?”
“Didn’t think it was important.” He shrugs, opening the door of the clubhouse and heads inside. I let the door close, needing a minute before I strangle the life out of my brother. Could this be absolutely nothing and probably is? Absolutely. But it warrants suspicion, even Cece figured that much out. So, why in the hell my brother thought it to be insignificant is beyond me. I pull a long breath in through my nose and blow it out of my lips slowly. If I murder him before the hour is up, Ohm might.
I wrap my fingers around the handle and follow Bill to the table where he is sitting, blowing out another breath for good measure, hoping I can stay calm. “When did this take place?”
“Five days ago.”
“And she’s just sat on this thinking the FEDs were snooping around?”
“Guess so. Like I said the bitch is crazy. She probably wraps her head in tin foil to keep aliens with mind control out of her head, too.”
I glare at him.
“Oh, right. Guess she’s not too far off if she believes that, huh?”
“We’re not aliens,” I point out with a flat tone, balling my hands into fists, and straightening them to my sides.
“We’re not exactly as human as she is either, though.”
He is right. We are not humans, but we aren’t protectors anymore either. I guess if I had to describe what we are now, it would be humans with extraordinary abilities. We still bleed and die just like everyone else, but it takes a lot more to kill us. We never used to stay in one place too long, but once we found the Kings that changed. It is a brotherhood much like the one we already have amongst us, and we never lived by the law. We make our own laws.
“Not exactly,” I answer him.
Shuffling from the back hallway gets both of our attention and we look toward who is responsible. Draven slinks down the hallway and yawns. “What’s the hub bub all about, fuckers?”
Bill is quick and get right on top of catching Draven up to speed. I take that as my que to find out where in the heck South is. He should be back by now. He is never and I mean NEVER late. Plucking my phone from my pocket I check the time. It’s a quarter after noon. We were supposed to meet back at the clubhouse at ten after. He is the one who chose the time. Perhaps he’s finally started telling me an earlier time than he used to. I can’t remember how much earlier he used to tell me to be somewhere, but I know he didn’t tell me the right time. We had this conversation the night I met her.
My finger slides over my phone and I dial South. He picks up on the first ring.
“You’re late,” I blurt out without giving him a chance to say hello. After all the years we have known one another, I have to say this is a first, and I don’t like it. I’m the one who is always running late. Not him. “I thought you were dead.”
“I know. Not dead, though, so there’s that.” There is a hint of irritation in his voice.
“Where are you?”
“Just left prison.”
My heartbeat pounds in my ears and it feels like my face is on fire. “What? I think I heard you wrong.” I pace back and forth on our sidewalk.
“You heard me right, North. I just left Shady Holler.”
“Shady Holler?” I have so many questions, but somehow that is the one I spit out. He’s two towns over and about fifty miles further than the destination where he should be.
“Yes, North. Shady Holler Penitentiary.”
