“If you’re right, we’re gonna kill her brothers,” Rock clarifies.
“You good with that?” Darko asks.
“I’ll have to be. They fucking shot you. Like I said, any brotherhood the three of us had is long gone. They fucked that up. Remy mostly.”
“This rape you witnessed… you think that’s the only time he ever did that?” Rock asks.
“I don’t know. I’ve often wondered that exact thing.”
Utah folds his arms. “That gets in a man’s blood; you think he stops at one?”
“Probably not,” I admit. “God, I hate to think that.”
Rock leans his elbows on his desk. “Well, he ever gets picked up and his DNA gets in the system, guess we’ll find out.”
I nod and exit the room, heading down the hall and out to my bike.
Rock’s words follow me, ringing in my ears. “If you’re right, we’re going to kill her brothers.”
How will Maggie ever be able to look at me again if that happens?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Maggie—
I’m dressed in black leggings and a black zip-up hoodie, my hair tucked inside. Parking a block from Brothers’ Garage, I backtrack. There’s a small red pickup truck parked in the lot, and the overhead bay doors are rolled up. I see their employee, Buddy, sitting on an overturned bucket working on a bike.
I creep closer in the shadows.
Music plays on a radio. It’s head-banging rock, so even if I make a sound, I don’t think he’ll hear me.
His back is to me, and I slip into the far bay and duck behind the car parked there with its hood up.
It’s almost 10:00pm, and I wonder how long he plans to stay here. He’s sipping a beer between wrenching.
A couple of teens roll through the parking lot on their mountain bikes.
“Hey, dude, got any extra beer?” one stops and asks.
“Beat it, kid,” Buddy says. When they ride off, cursing him, he gets up and closes the overhead doors, throwing the bolt to lock them in place.
I keep my head down, praying he doesn’t come to this side.
A minute later, the music shuts off, and I hear his phone ring.
“Yeah?” he answers. “No, babe. I’m just leaving. I’ll be home soon. Yeah, okay. Diapers and milk. Anything else? Okay. Love you. Bye.”
He whistles a tune, and I hear tools clanking like he’s tossing them in a tool chest.
Finally, the overhead fluorescent lights go out, and I hear the door open and close.
It’s dark except for the neon sign in the office window, which I can see through the open doorway between the garage and the office.
I sneak closer and see the red pickup truck turn onto the street and drive off.
Pulling my phone out, I turn on the flashlight app and begin searching the place.
I’m not even sure what I’m looking for. I rummage through the desk in the office but find no money. Although buried in the back of the bottom drawer, I find several men’s leather wallets.
