He places his fingers under my chin. “We stay together for now.”
But where? We’d be safest at my parents’ or Madoc’s, but that might mean alerting them to the trouble.
“Why did you give it to Farrow?”
Glancing at Aro, I see her brow strained as she glowers.
He simply shakes his head. “Because the community relies on it. We need an infrastructure in place before we take away any means they have to support themselves.”
But she presses, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“It was a gamble.”
Definitely.
For Lucas’s sake, the ideal thing to do would be to end it, but he’s probably right. Transition to phasing it out wouldbe less detrimental to the people who rely on it for income. If it dissolved abruptly, the most vulnerable would suffer.
“One step at a time,” he tells her.
But the worried look on Aro’s face remains.
Lucas leads us down the curb to our cars. “Did you guys see someone outside the club, dropping off an envelope?” he asks, unlocking the doors of the Mustang.
Hawke replies, “A man handed the doorman something and left.”
“Didn’t see his face,” Dylan adds. “Why?”
Lucas opens my car door for me. “Let’s go,” he tells everyone, ignoring the question. “We need to check something out.”
I climb in as everyone scatters to their cars, and Lucas starts the engine, pulling away. Tommy is gone, and I twist my neck, searching the street for her. If they know she helped us, she might not be safe, either.
Lucas leads the way through the warehouse district, up into the hills, and around Weston High School. He doesn’t offer any information, and I don’t know why. Are we in danger?
I peer over at him. “Who was the man who dropped off the envelope?”
We didn’t think much of some lonely guy on foot, Green Street probably having all sorts of people filtering in and out of the place every day. But now that I think about it, there was something about him. The fit of his brown leather jacket. The cut of his hair peeking out of his hood. As if the clothes were tailored to him. It’s not how most people look, except for men like Madoc and only men like Jared and Jax, because their wives pick their clothes.
“I’m not sure,” he says in a breathy voice. “I need to see something first.”
He drives over the weeds that have sprouted up through the broken road, and it looks like a lot is happening in his head, but I don’t give a shit. He can be quiet, just not with me.
“What happened in there?” I demand.
“It’s still happening.”
I growl, “Lucas.”
Dammit. What the hell is going on?
“I transferred control of the building to Farrow,” he finally blurts out. “It’s not over yet, but I can help him.”
“How?”
Why Farrow? Is that safe? And how did Lucas manage that? How are we going to help him?
I’m about to press for details, but we pass through an open, rusty gate hanging off its hinges. Rows of low buildings appear ahead in the darkness, and he pulls up closer, his headlights illuminating the large doors. Where are we?
Headlights from the others’ cars reflect in our mirrors. I lean in closer to the windshield, avoiding the glare and taking in the sight before me.
