“I saw him this morning,” I tell Berlin about my brother, as if to reassure myself he’s okay. Because he has to be okay. There’s no other option.
Berlin says nothing.
It feels a little like I can’t breathe, but I am composed enough at all times to look him in the eye and say, “Stop wasting my fucking time. What is it you really want to say?”
Berlin swallows. His neck rolls and he glances over my head.
This man doesn’t get nervous, but right now, that’s all I see.
“Don’t trust him, Lydia. I know he raised you. I know he gave you what you have.” He stares at me in the dark. “Don’t trust him.”
“You have to tell me something more than that.” Even as I say the words, Eve’s warnings ring in my head, but I want to know what Lynx did at the hospital to make Berlin, of all people, so unsettled.
He bows his head and brushes his mouth over my hair.
I jerk back but he doesn’t let me go. “Don’t kiss me again,” I snarl at him, my chest heaving.
His fingers press into my hip bone. “Your uncle,” he speaks slowly, carefully, and he doesn’t let me go. “Brought a man with him.”
I tense.
Hold my breath.
“A man you’re not allowed to touch.”
Storm.
But Berlin keeps talking. “Hawthorn Leary once flooded a toilet by trying to flush a man’s head down it.” He lets me go all at once, his lips pressed together as he watches me take everything in. “Why would he need to see your brother?”
“Tennessee owns the marina;he’ll be there himself.”
“Tennessee, huh?” I force lightness into my tone in the darkness of my car and glance at the hilt of the knife strapped to my thigh. It’ll be hidden beneath my black latex trench coat when I get to the marina. I’m meeting a man I don’t know tonight at Cathedral Bay, right by Coven Lake, and The Veil has disappeared from my rear view.
Berlin made me promise not to do anything rash.
I lie as easily as I breathe; but for right now, the promise is kept.
I force myself not to think about what Berlin told me or I won’t go to this meeting and I’ll fuck my entire business. After this, I’ll speak to my uncle. Because after this, I’ll fucking hunt him down. If what Berlin said is true—and I’ll easily be able to verify it—Lynx might be passing down the throne sooner than he thinks.
Tonight, the show must go on, Storm Leary will live another day, and the fate of his and his little girlfriend’s life hangs in the balance of my brother’s vital signs over the next twenty-four hours.
Most people don’t ever wake up if they don’t within a couple of weeks.
The window is closing in.
“What’s his real name?” My false nicety is gone as I speak to Rachelle through the speakerphone.
She’s quiet for a moment.
Rachelle Vyern handles operations in the piedmont region, Raleigh, Durham, Chapel Hill. We’re equals, technically speaking. But in reality, Rachelle’s grandmother could have my throat slit within the hour if she wanted. Risley Vyern holds the record for the most kilos of cocaine dealt over a lifetime in the entire southeast.
So if Rachelle doesn’t want to tell me Tennessee’s real name, I’m sure as hell not going to press her. If she was anyone else, yeah, but I pick my battles.
“Ten, actually,” Rachelle answers. “Doesn’t sound as odd though, does it?”
Despite myself, the smile returns as I take the winding roads to Coven Lake and the Bay. “Guess not.”
“He’ll talk your ear off but he’ll have good tips on suppliers for you. The move from Garner to Asheville means he’s had to make connections to keep his operation running so he’s already got a base, just outside of your territory. He won’t disrespect your jurisdiction. Give him some info on the undercovers and the boys and he’ll be a good asset.”
