I shake my head and press back into the wall, trying to create some semblance of space between us.
“Grace.”
This time the harshness of his tone forces my eyes to snap open.
The gun is still pressed to my face. His hand remains cupping my chin, and his body continues barring my exit.
“Gonna need you to do something for me,” he says.
I swallow, will my voice to be steady. “And what’s that?”
“I’m done being pushed around by your family. I need shit on your brother so I can end this. You’re gonna help me do that.”
My stomach plummets. “I-I don’t know anything. I can’t help you.”
He pushes the barrel of the gun against my skin again. “You can, and you will. Need you to get cuddly with the club. Find me something good. When this is over, I’ll give you back your product instead of handing it over to Allen and his OPP fucks. Got it?”
Pulse once again racing, I suck in a shaky breath. “Axe finds out I’m slipping you information, he’ll kill me.”
A wicked smile plays at his lips. “Guess you better not get caught, then.” He backs away, then jerks his gun towards the door. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
Eyes down, I scurry towards the door. Halfway there, the cold, mechanical click of a gun halts me mid-step. I peer over my shoulder, eye the barrel pointing at my head.
“One more thing,” he says. “Point a gun at me again, and it’ll be the last thing you do. Got it?”
I nod.
“No. Say it. Tell me you understand.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“Good. You can go.”
I’ve barely escaped his trashed house when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
You really thought I wouldn’t find you?
Another vibration. This time a picture appears.
Of me. From earlier today as I was leaving Triss and Jack’s place.
Ice floods my veins. He’s here. Which means I’ve run out of time.
I quickly thumb out a reply.
You want your shit? Come get it, asshole.
Before I can think better of it, I drop Decker’s address in the reply box and hit send.
11
“Ow, shit.”Wincing, I yank my finger away from the steaming vat of hot chili and press it to my lips.
“Told you it was hot.” Triss shoves a giant box of bagged sandwich rolls into my arms, then shifts her attention to the crowd gathered in front of our vendor booth.
According to her, this is the busiest week of the summer. The South Bay Feast Fest.
It explains the sudden influx of people into my small hometown over the last twenty-four hours. South Bay’s waterfront has been overtaken by a small army of festivalgoers. The crowds are thick, the roads are lined with cars, and every restaurant and coffee shop is packed with people. There’s a travelling midway with rides and carnival games, a giant Ferris wheel overlooking the boardwalk, and rows upon rows of street vendors and food trucks.
