“One shit-storm at a time,” Hawke warns.
A sarcastic laugh slips out of me.“So, there’s more?”Clapping my hands, I rub my palms together.“Man, it really is my birthday.”
“What is it, Hawke?”Jagger pushes.
“I found the bank statement.”Hawke turns his back on Mom’s picture frame resting on the mantle, choosing to face us instead.“Tight Ass paid to have our house torched.”
“We already knew this,” I start.
“I’m not finished.”Hawke bites at his thumbnail, then drops his hand to his side.“The money didn’t come from his account.”
Jagger frowns.“So where did it come from?”
“Ten grand was transferred from my trust to June’s ex the night before the fire,” Hawke reveals.
Wait.What?
“Yourtrust?”I challenge.“You mean, the one you can’t access after Daddy Dearest froze our shit?”
From the window, Roman’s chuckle is sardonic at best.“Seems Hawke found a loophole.Good one, Hawke.”
“Gee, thanks,” Hawke mutters.“Let me tell you, I love seeing my future go up in flames.”
“Look at you, making a pun,” I quip dryly.
He gives me the bird again, though there isn’t any heat in it.He’s too distracted by the shit-storm that could rain down on him if anyone ever found out.To be fair, he technically didn’t do anything wrong, since we aren’t claiming anything on our insurance, but knowing our father chose his account to make the transfer from has gotta sting.Some of my malice slips out of me.I’d die for any of my brothers.But cleaning up the aftermath of each of our lives is exhausting, and it just keeps coming.
The cords along Hawke’s neck tighten as he swallows past what I imagine feels like a lump in his throat.“Long story short,” Hawke continues, “Tight Ass is either trying to kick us off the board before graduation, or he’s trying to scare us from The Drift by making us think Morgan was behind this.”
“Do his motives matter?”I ask.Too amped up to do anything else, I pace the room while everyone else stays quiet.“He underestimated us, and now we’re gonna make him pay.”
“Slow down,” Roman orders.
“Bitching about potential motives is only going to waste time,” I argue.“We have to strike him now.Not tomorrow.Not next week.We need to move?—”
“Hawke’s right,” Jagger interjects from the couch.My nostrils flare.“Right now, Titas has no idea we know what really happened, and while I agree with the need to analyze potential motives, I think Ford’s right, too.We don’t know how long this information will stay private.”
Finally.Someone sees reason.
“How do you want to play this, Jag?”I ask.
Leaning his back against the couch, he hangs his arms over both ends.“Hawke, did you find any other payments Titas made to Bryan?”
“Specifically to Bryan?”Hawke emphasizes.He shakes his head.“No.Just the one payment.”
“What about to his mom?”I interject.“June mentioned Bryan pays for his family’s shit.”
“No, nothing,” Hawke returns.
“So, it isn’t a trend,” Jagger states.“It’s a single payment, and it’s from your account.”
Hawke scrubs his hand over his face.“Yeah.”
Turning to me, Jagger asks, “Ford, you talked to June about Bryan?”
My chin dips.
“Can he be trusted?”
