I bet she’s recalling the only image of Rhett she has: covered in blood and fresh from a kill. She’s a tough girl but my father fills her with fear unlike anything else.
“Hailey.” I grasp her chin, forcing her eyes on me. “Look at me. I won’t let him anywhere near you. You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“None of that. Nobuts. I’m here and you’re safe. Go upstairs. Your gun’s in the nightstand drawer, fully loaded. Grab that and don’t come down until I tell you, understood?”
Her white teeth sink into her bottom lip, her uncertainty fading and turning to determination as she bobs her head.
“Good girl. Go.”
She scrambles away, her small feet thudding up the stairs. The bedroom door closes and, simultaneously, the front door bursts open, hitting the wall with an almighty clang.
Apollo is greeted by three gun barrels pointed at his head.
“This will work out better for you if you drop your gun,” I say, sliding my finger onto the trigger. “As I’m sure you recall, I’m a much better shot than you.”
“BecauseItaught you everything you know, you ungrateful son of a bitch!” Rhett booms, elbowing his way inside the loft, his tommy gun pointing down. “You better have a good reason why you told this scum you found the evidence before you told me.” His gaze roams the whole place, sweeping every nook and cranny before reaching the first floor.
The second his eyes land on Hailey, a deranged, twisted smile curls his lips. “There’s the troublemaking slut.” He casts a long glance at Apollo. “Drag her down here.”
“Take one fucking step and it’ll be your last,” I say, aiming between Rhett’s eyes while my men’s guns stay trained on Apollo. “Calm the fuck down and let’s talk. I seem to be missing some information. Likewhoit was you executed at the warehouse before you sent Babyface after Alex?”
Now I have his attention. His and Apollo’s. While Rhett looks positively stunned, Apollo looks relieved...
Rhett’s eyes narrow, surprise crossing his features before he shakes it off, masking other emotions. Too little, too late. I already know I’m barking up the right tree, and I don’t miss that scrutinizing, hateful stare of his shooting upstairs again.
He knows Hailey saw him. And he knows it’s only a matter of time before I find out what really happened.
“I should’ve killed that bitch when I had the chance.”
There’s a soft thud upstairs as if Hailey braced against the glass wall above my head. I have an order on the tip of my tongue:Broadway, go check on Hailey, but I can’t risk Rhett firing the tommy gun the second Broadway turns his back on him.
41
HAILEY
THE NIGHT OF THE ACCIDENT
The taxi driver glances at me over his shoulder as I hand him a fifty. The sky outside is dark, specked with a few stars, though most of them are hidden by the city’s light pollution.
I push the door open, ignoring the proffered change, every muscle in my body wound up so tight the ligaments aren’t far off snapping. There’s a lead weight in the pit of my stomach that makes my knees wobble as I glance around the sketchy neighborhood.
The driver pulls away from the curb, disappearing behind a corner. I’m alone, nothing but a patch of abandoned wasteland before me, and a few run-down houses behind. The few working streetlamps illuminate the trash bags littering the pavement, but no lights are flickering in the windows.
In the distance, a few rickety warehouses stand out like a sore thumb. They were part of a watch factory that closed years ago and the area has been abandoned ever since.
At least that’s what I thought, but Aalyiah said her father uses the warehouses from time to time.
“He’s in a meeting this evening, so he won’t be there,”she assured me over the phone.“It’s remote. There’s no surveillance.”
I swallow hard, stepping off the curb to cross the street. Soon enough my sneakers sink into muddy ground, the darkness of the night shadowing my presence. The chilly air—a subtle reminder of summer’s end—whips my face, tangling my hair and raising goosebumps up my arms.
Though that might be both the cold evening and the anxiety clutching at my throat. I didn’t think this through when I called her. It was a spur of the moment decision fueled by Alex’s fear.
I wanted to help, so I dialed Aalyiah’s number, failing to weigh the pros and cons of meeting his girlfriend in the dead of night. Since we hung up, I’ve spent every minute wondering what I’ll say when I see the girl Alex loves.
How do I explain this clusterfuck?
