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“I’ll take the first run with the women,” I murmur.

Honest to fuck, I don’t want to take any runs, but it’s about all I can do right now to keep the men busy collecting money and hopefully making contracts for an arson for hire. It’s all we have to work toward right now.

I’m pretty sure when this club was created, nobody thought that we’d ever run out of clients who wanted to burn their houses down and collect the insurance money. Because people as a whole, especially this close to Vegas, always seem to be in over their heads and looking for a quick and easy way out, which is what we provide. But it’s been a dry few years, with some payouts we were counting on that didn’t happen.

So now we’re not just in bed with the Russians. We’re fucking rolling around naked with them. They know more about us and our operation than I would have ever wanted them to know.

“So we’re fucked,” Hippie mutters.

“We are,” I agree.

“Sign me up for the first transport. Don’t go alone.”

And so I do. I lay out bullet points that go along with the terms we’ve signed on the dotted line for, and I make sure to put both Hippie and me down for the first run. I have no clue what is going to await us, but at least we’ll have one another’s backs.

Next week, we’re going to make this shit our bitch. I’m not ready for it, but I don’t have a fucking choice.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

KEELY

I’m not the first one at the café, thank goodness, because I don’t have a key to open up. Parking beside a familiar car, I wince because I didn’t call her to let her know that I was safe. I didn’t call her at all, or even text her, and I promised I would. I’m usually not a flaky friend, but Brock has my head spinning.

Gathering my things, I hitch my purse over my chest and make my way inside. Clare is there, but she’s not alone, and my feet stop moving the moment I see her. There, standing beside the register, is Briar.

She’s wearing a feigned expression of worry on her face. I don’t buy it. Don’t believe that she gives a shit. Not after her little party, where I felt completely embarrassed and ashamed. She made me feel ashamed, and I hated every second of it, and now she’s here, standing beside Clare as if she even gives a shit.

“Is this an intervention?” I ask, laughing.

It’s feigned laughter because I’m nervous. I don’t know what is happening, and I’m afraid that once I find out, I’m going to get pissed off. Because the way they’re looking at me, watching me, they are going to say something I don’t like.

I know I’m not going to like it, because I have a feeling it’s going to be about Brock.

“Kind of,” Clare murmurs.

But it’s Briar who takes a step forward, no doubt ready and willing to be the big bitch. She moves toward me, closing the distance between us, then lifts her hand and curls her fingers around my forearm, squeezing me gently there.

“That man is dangerous, sweetie. We are so worried about you.”

I almost laugh. My eyes dance as I look into hers. I’m on the verge of bursting out into laughter. It’s just beneath the surface, ready to bubble up and explode in her face. I don’t do that, though.

At least not yet.

“You don’t need to worry about me. Trust me, my parents worry enough.”

Clare gasps, and I shift my focus from Briar to her. “Your parents know?” she asks in a whisper.

At this point, I’m biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I cannot believe that this conversation is happening—that this intervention is happening. Because let’s face it, even if it’s only the two of them, that is exactly what this is. Two-on-one.

“Yes, my parents met Brock last night when he came over and picked me up for a date,” I say, explaining part of my evening. I can tell by the way they’re looking at me that I won’t be telling them any details of said date.

The judgment is so fucking real right now.

Briar’s fingers squeeze my forearm again, flexing against me. Shifting my focus back to meet hers, I arch a brow as I wait for her to tell me whatever it is she’s got on her mind so that I can shake her grip from my forearm and move on with my morning.

“You went out with him even knowing who and what he is?” she hisses.