“Is he still alive?”
“Nope.Years later, I went back and carved that fucker up, and I took great pleasure doing it.Does this scare you?Do you fear me now?”
She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head.“No, because I would do the same.”
“I told you this story because I absolutely understand everything you’re feeling.Everything you said, I said too.That’s why I read self-help and psychology books.I needed to move past my own trauma and to do that, I had to understand what I did wrong, only to realize I did nothing wrong.I’ve had twenty-three years, my brother, and the club to help me move past what happened.Let us give you that same help.”
Trust didn’t come easily, but she had to do something.The past was eating her up.
“You deserve happiness, Kira,” he murmured, laying his head on top of hers.“You deserve laughter.And flowers.And dancing in the early morning hours.And Saint and I want to give that to you.We will never hurt you.Never betray you.If, for any reason, this relationship doesn’t work out, then we’ll part as friends.”
She had to make a decision.
“Okay,” she replied, and closed her eyes as he held her.
Chapter Fourteen
Saint parked his bikein the same spot as before, and took off his helmet.In his mind’s eye, he saw the four of them: he, Sinn, Cas, and Wrong Way.The only reason he brought the kid was because Cas talked him into it.Said the prospect needed to learn how to conduct himself during a trade.
Remembering Kira’s words, he glanced at the old gas station.Rising, he placed the helmet on the seat, and then approached the abandoned building.An old Coca-Cola sign slowly rusted into dust.Weeds grew in the concrete cracks.All the windows were busted out.Saint stopped to study the area and a shell casing near one of the busted-out windows caught his eye.He bent to pick it up—nine mil—and struggled to put the pieces together.However, it was like trying to fit a circle through a square.Something wasn’t adding up, but he couldn’t seem to figure it out.
Retracing his steps, he was halfway back to his bike when he looked over at the lone streetlight and stopped.He looked at the gas station once again to gage the distance between the two.Marching to the light, he pulled forth the memory of Cas when he went to take a leak, and moved into position, only to discover the two places didn’t align at all.The building was angled, which made using that as a shield completely ineffective.It’s possible Cas was shot as he was running, but the black-clad figure would have already sprinted for the duffel.It had been the two clubs shooting each other that kept up the distraction, but it had only lasted a minute.Not enough time for a person running for the duffel to not be seen.
Which meant ...goddamn it.There had to be another explanation, although he had trouble trying to give excuses.Cas was shot low in the side, away from any important organs or bone.If someone had to be shot, that would be the perfect place.And he hadn’t emerged until after all the shooting had stopped.There was no way that wound would’ve hindered Cas, who’d been shot multiple times throughout his life.In fact, the gun Saint had ordered for him to holster, had still been strapped in.
He ran a hand down his face.
It wasn’t painting a good picture for Cas, but why would he betray the club?Knowing, if he was found out, he’d end up six feet under.Then Saint remembered.If Cas had gotten the money, he probably would’ve fled by now.
Except, there was a witness.
Kira had shown up that night to return the money.Anyone could’ve seen her.Anyone could’ve seen the uniform she wore that proclaimed she worked at the diner.She hadn’t been followed, she’d been identified.
He pulled out his cell phone and called Lucifer.
“Have you discovered anything?”
