“Did you need me to sign something for your teachers?” I say, gesturing toward the envelope in his hand.
“This is actually for you.” He hands me a blank envelope. “Some dude in a black Rover asked me to give this to you.”
“Who?”
“I have no idea. Never seen him before.”
“Did he give you his name?”
“Nope. But he gave me twenty bucks.” He pulls a twenty out of his front pocket, wagging his brows like he’s the luckiest kid in town.
Interesting.
“What did he look like?”
“Uh, big white guy, I guess your age. Short brown hair, white T-shirt, and tattoos on his hands.”
“Did you notice anything special about his tattoos?”
“Nope, sorry. The twenty in his hand distracted me.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“No problem, Coach. See ya later.”
“Later, Jake.”
Tucking the envelope into my pocket, I stifle a reaction. If whoever paid Jake is still around, I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of watching me open the envelope and getting a rise out of me. But my gut tells me I won’t feel quite so chill once I see what’s inside.
No one from town would pay a kid to make a delivery to me. Besides, we all know each other in Goose Hollow. Strangers in Rovers is not an everyday occurrence.
Once I’m in my truck, hidden behind my tinted windows, I open the sealed envelope. Inside is a picture with a large sticky note covering the image.
We have friends in Boston, too.
Give our regards to Miss McKinnon.
My hands are so shaky I nearly drop the paper. Cracking my neck on one side and then the other, I peel back the paper covering the image to find my academy classmate Benson at a crime scene.
My blood boils. Violent rage sticks in my throat, but I can't scream here in the high school parking lot. These fuckers are threatening not only Benson, but Daisy too. As if they haven’t done enough to her. They’re telling me that they know she’s alive but far from safe.
What these assholes don’t get is that I’m a lucky bastard and the list of people I love is long, and they keep messing with the ones at the top of that list. They’ve just fucked with the wrong motherfucker. If it didn’t mean leaving Daisy, I’d fly East and deal with these pricks in person, but as much as I want to rip their hearts out, I refuse to leave her. Hell, going to practice was hard enough. The note in my hand, proof they knew where I was, which means they know where she is.
I start the car, take a picture of the envelope's contents and send it to Benson. Once my Bluetooth connects, I call him and put the truck in gear.
“Swift. Got an update for me?”
“Hey, man. I just sent you a text.”
The line goes quiet for a few seconds.
“Well, shit.”
“Sorry, man. I never wanted to get you mixed up in this shit.”
“Comes with the territory. When did it arrive?”
“A few minutes ago. One of my players said someone they’d never seen before pulled up in a black Rover and paid him twenty bucks to deliver it to me.”
