“I told you he’s a lazy drunk with a gambling problem and anger issues,” Roman counters. “Never said he doesn’t hit her.Only said no one’s seen her walking around with any of the usual signs.”
“Until today,” I grit out. “So this could be the norm.”
“Or it could be a one-off,” Ford offers.
“Or it could be the norm,” I repeat.
“It does make sense, though,” Roman adds. “Why she was talking to someone from the school about alternative housing, even if it was out of her budget and would take her further from her friend.”
I nod, making a mental note of it all while coming up with a game plan. One I plan to keep to myself. “What about the friend?” I ask. “They seemed close at the fight. What’d you find out?”
Hawke shares a look with Roman, then mutters, “Name’s Lexie. Lexie Morgan. Little sister to Ethan Morgan, who almost blinded you over last weekend.”
“I’m aware,” I grunt.
“What you’re not aware of,” Roman continues, “is that Ethan and Lexie have an uncle. Gus.”
The name hits its mark, and I pull back, shocked as hell.
“Yeah,” Hawke mutters. “TheGus.”
“Well, shit.” Ford laughs. “Talk about a small world, am I right?”
The rest of us stay quiet, digesting the severity of the situation and what it could mean if we don’t play our cards right.
“So, what does this mean?” Ford continues. “The douche bag shows up out of nowhere, kicks Jagger’s ass?—”
“Cheats,” Roman interjects. “He wouldn’t have won if he hadn’t almost taken out your brother’s eye?—”
“Semantics,” Ford argues. “He still walked away with our money, which means Gus’s family walked away with a shit-ton more than we initially agreed to when we approached him about hosting our…extracurricular activities in The Drift.”
Ford’s right. We had an agreement with Gus. Allow us in The Drift without any trouble, and we give him a cut of the earnings. Why change shit now?
Our game forgotten, I pace the empty court. Why would Gus’s nephew pop up out of nowhere? It makes no sense. “Has Gus said anything?” I ask Roman.
“I haven’t heard anything.”
“You?” I prod, turning to Hawke.
“Nothing.”
“What else have you heard about Ethan and Lexie?” I demand.
“Ethan did a few years in prison for armed robbery,” Roman explains. “Got out a month ago. Is staying with his little sister. No idea for how long.”
“Lexie works for her uncle at The Body Shop,” Hawke continues. “Makes good money. Likes to flirt but distances herself from the actual clientele. No idea if she knows what her uncle’s really into. If she does, she’s a great actress.”
“Good to know,” I mutter.
“We told Gus we wouldn’t stick our nose in Drifter shit,” Roman reminds me. “And even though your girl isn’t technically related, I think we’re walking a tightrope here.”
He’s right. Dammit, he’s right. I scrub my hand over my face, attempting to erase the bruise from memory, but it doesn’t do shit.
“You know we’ve got your back,” Hawke adds. “Whatever you want us to do, we got you, even if it stirs up shit.”
I know he does. I know they all do. Guess it’s one of the few perks of having an asshole for a father. It really breeds camaraderie around the troops. It also means I’m not the only one this affects. If she wasn’t friends with someone who has connections worth steering clear of, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d intervene and help her out. It’s not like they’d care or likely evennotice at all. The problem is, Violet’s affinity for blending in has only counted when it comes to the Harden side of town. When it comes to The Drift? And her affiliations? I’m not sure where she stands. So where the hell does it leave me? And her?
If she wasn’t so damn stubborn, I could maybe give her the money back, but all it takes is one person. One person who finds out we have a soft spot for sob stories, and our entire operation goes up in flames. The familiar thought flickers through me, frustrating me even more than before.
