“Before they didn’t have three people in hospital.” I bring up the links Vale sent me. “Right now, they have nothing to go on because the injured parties aren’t well enough to give interviews. Once that changes, we could be in deep shit.”
“Ifthat changes,” Wilder corrects me. “And all I heard is that the police have nothing. Hardly necessary to call a crisis meeting.”
My lips clamp hard together, preventing the retort that desperately wants to come flying out of my mouth. Luckily, Zane picks up my slack.
“This is a meeting topreventa crisis, you twat.”
“Then get to the point. I got a date tonight.”
By which he means, he’s rigged a girl to fuck him who almost assuredly is not Dahlia, his girlfriend. For all that they’re lovey-dovey inside the school grounds, outside them he doesn’t care what he sticks his dick in so long as it’s warm, wet, and willing.
Given his looks and status, that’s a well that never runs dry.
I tick the rudimentary list off my fingers. “No talking to anyone who isn’t in this vehicle and for god’s sake, don’t run your mouth where anyone could be listening.”
Wilder rolls his eyes and waves at me to hurry.
“Get an alibi for Sunday night. Something solid. Rig shit if you have to but if the police come calling, I want you to know exactly what you’re going to say and exactly what proof you have to back the claim.”
“Right. Get some girlie to lie and say I was with her all night.” Wilder shakes his head. “So far, this could’ve been a DM.”
“Nothing online,” I say, slapping his shoulder when he tries to stare out the window at a passing trio of girls. “I don’t care if the app says all messages are triple encrypted and deleted the moment an eyeball turns in their direction. You don’t put it online. You don’t make a call. You don’t write it on a notepad and throw it in my direction.”
With his attention wandering again, I add, “You especially don’t tell your girlfriend when she’ll blab if she finds out you’re balls deep in every other pussy in town.”
His eyes cut away from mine and I experience the first wriggle of unease.
“You’ve told Dahlia.”
“I had to tell her something. She was waiting in my room when I came home stinking of smoke. You know how suspicious she gets.”
“Wonder why that is?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fine. New rule. No ‘dating’”—I use air quotes—“anyone else until we’re in the clear. Got it?”
“What kind of bullshit is that?”
“The bullshit you deserve,” Zane says in a low rumble.
Of the three of us, he’s the biggest, the most aggressive, and his platinum hair is a complete deception for the darkness lurking underneath. Wilder gives a nervous lick of his lips, and I don’t blame him. The last kid Zane laid into was out of school for a week.
“This is overkill for a couple of junkies. Even under duress, the cops won’t give a shit, not even if they die. You know that better than anyone.”
I stare at him in disbelief, wondering if he just referenced what I think he did and if he really has a death wish.
Nobody talks about Addie.
Zane growls and Wilder shrinks back in his seat, eyes opening wide. “You know I didn’t mean anything by it. Just stating a fact.”
“Maybe keep your facts to yourself from now on.” Zane turns back to me. “You need any further intel? I’ve got a contact in the hospital could give us warning in case the star witnesses talk.”
“If you trust them, that’ll be good.”
“How’s that fair?” Wilder immediately grumbles. “I get punished for talking to my girl, but he’s allowed to blab to some random contact.”
“It’s fair because he knows how to work people without giving away our secrets,” I explain. “A skill you’d do well to pick up considering your fidelity issues.”
“Whatever. Are we done?”
“Run your alibi past me when you’re sorted.” The order earns me a mocking salute and I gesture for him to leave.
