“Good. That’s one thing we can tick off. I put in a call to Joey Biggs. Waiting to hear back.”
“When are we doing this?” a man with wild curly hair asks, his grin bordering on maniacal. “I love to hunt a predator.”
“I know,” Shadow says. “I need to hear back from Joey. We’ll find out what he knows and go from there. For now, we do what we discussed earlier and wait.”
“I have to finish mine tonight,” another, younger looking man says.
“Ah, that’s right, Nimble,” Shadow says. “Your target is the last open job we have.”
I feel like Boone and I shouldn’t be hearing this, but maybe it will help me to understand how it works.
“Yeah, and we know for sure he’s a douche,” Nimble says.
“What did he do?” Boone asks, but I cringe, unsure if we’re overstepping.
Nimble looks at Shadow, who nods. “He’s a pretty low-level drug dealer,” Nimble explains. “But he made a move and got involved in some raves. He fucked up with some dirty drugs and four kids died.”
“He got off murder charges on a technicality,” Shadow says. “Served minimal time for involuntary manslaughter and negligence, but even that was reduced for good behavior. He was only out for three weeks before he popped back up in the scene.”
Nimble nods. “He’s a piece of shit. Doesn’t give a fuck about anyone.”
“So our client is making sure he won’t hurt anyone else. His daughter was one of the victims.”
I nod, absorbing the information. I can’t feel bad about a drug dealer who ruins kids’ lives dying, right? The system failed and he’s right back at it.
“Need backup?” another guy—I think his name was Ghost—asks Nimble.
“Nah, man, this one’s easy. I know where he’ll be tonight. He’s very predictable.”
Shadow nods. “I’ll let you all know when I hear back from Joey. Until then, rest. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”
“Can I do anything?” Boone asks.
Shadow studies him for a moment. “To be determined.”
Shadow leaves the room and the others follow him, leaving the three of us alone again. Boone pushes his empty plate forward.
“Thank you for the food.”
“Of course,” Wraith says. “I’ll take you upstairs now so you can rest and freshen up.”
“Cool.”
Before we disperse, Boone grabs Wraith’s wrist, holding his gaze. “You’re a good person.”
He huffs a dark laugh. “I’m not sure about that.”
“You are. I can tell. You’re good for Pax, even if neither of you can see it.”
I want to object, but the words die on my tongue. Wraith has been good for me. Without him, my brother would be dead—if not by his hand, then someone else’s. It’s becoming increasinglyclear that the chances of me walking away from him intact are slim.
Keeping him is risky and scary as fuck, but I’ve done scary things before. Maybe this one is worth it.
