“Wait until the heat cools down, and then, try again,” Sinner says.
“We don’t traffic women,” Galen supplies, his voice strained. “You honestly think members will vote this in?”
Sinner snorts. “They’ll fucking do what I say, and the profits speak for themselves. With Luke McKenzie out of the way, that business is wide-open for the taking. It’s worth millions, billions.” His eyes glint greedily, and my stomach churns.
“What’s McKenzie got to do with it?” Theo asks.
“He was The Bulls liaison with the supplier in Mexico. Dude doesn’t trust Ruben, thanks to some past history and bad blood. He didn’t realize he was supplying The Bulls until I informed him. We have a way in now, provided I can spin last night and not fucking ruin everything before it’s begun.” His nostrils flare as he slams his hands on the table.
“This should help,” Caz says, turning on the TV and tilting his head to the side.
Sinner’s eyes pop wide, and his fury turns to quick delight as we watch the news report confirming a large shipment of drugs and weapons were seized in an early morning raid on the docks in Fenton. Pictures show Ruben and a line of guys in cuts being frog-marched into police vans.
Saint has already sent spies out onto the streets to start taking control of the Fenton supply, because we don’t know if the cops will arrest everyone. In the event they don’t, the remaining members should be too busy trying to hold on to their turf to bother about me.
Sinner grins, rubbing his hands together. “At least, something good has come from this shitshow.” He jabs his finger at Saint. “Get guys on the street. I want that supply locked up tight before other greedy assholes try to take the territory.”
“I’m on it,” Saint says, his fingers flying over his phone.
Sinner slaps him on the back. “That’s my boy.” He leers at me, peering down the front of my shirt, and nausea swims up my throat. “I just might be in the mood for celebrating tonight after all.”
“Knock it off, Dad.” Saint slings his arm around my shoulders, glaring at his dad. “Lo is ours.”
“Sharing is caring, son.” Sinner smirks, slapping him extra hard on the back. “And I don’t take orders from you.” He swats the back of his head, and the urge to stab him is riding me hard again. “Have a good day at school.” He laughs, walking off with a half-empty whiskey bottle clutched in one hand.
“I say we implement a new plan,” Galen growls. Our gazes swing to his. “Let’s kill the asshole. I don’t know how much more of his shit I can stomach.”
“I’m down with that plan.” I remove my knife, running my finger along the tip.
“We stick to the original plan,” Saint says. He looks down at me. “Put that away.”
“You’re no fun.” I pout, tucking my knife away.
“And there’s no fucking way you’re coming to the meeting tonight.”
“I can’t just not show up.” I crick my head from side to side, loosening my tense shoulder muscles.
“You fucking can, and you will. I’ll think of some excuse,” Saint promises.
“Can you think of it later,” Theo says, standing and knocking back the last of his orange juice. “We need to get to school.”
_______________
It’s the second-to-last class of the day, and I’m staring out the window, yawning and trying to keep my eyes open. I’m not listening to a word Batshit Branning is saying because I’m too fucking tired to concentrate.
“Ms. Westbrook!” she screeches in my ear. I turn my head, surprised to find the teacher standing at my desk. “The vice principal has requested your attendance in her office immediately.”
“What’s this about?” I ask, gathering my books.
“You’ll find out when you get there,” she retorts before returning to the front of the class. None of the guys are in this class, so I pop off a quick group text as I follow the secretary to Vice Principal Pierson’s office.
“Harlow.” The small, curvy woman pins me with a soft smile. “Have a seat, dear.”
“What’s going on? Am I in trouble?” I thought the guys fixed it so the week I was absent was not an issue, but maybe, they didn’t. I plop into the seat across from her, dropping my bag on the ground by my feet.
“No.” She shakes her head, reaching across the desk to pat my hand. “There’s no easy way to say this. I just received a call from the hospital.”
My heart stops beating, and panic sluices into my veins. I gulp. “Tell me,” I croak.
