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I’d already looked through everything in his bedroom and knew there wasn’t any money lying around in there. But what about here?

There was a twinge in my heart when I looked around the room. It was annoyingly neat, nothing out of place, not a speck of dust anywhere.

Ignoring that twinge, I rounded the desk and yanked open the top drawer. My hands were shaking as I rifled through it. Every single thing in here was perfectly placed, and I didn’t even try to make it look like I hadn’t gone through it before closing it and moving on to the next one. He’d know soon enough I was gone, it didn’t matter.

Every drawer I opened was like a knife to the heart, seeing all these items so well-ordered and knowing he’d been the one to place them like that.

When I yanked open the bottom drawer, I paused. A velvet bag was the only thing inside, and when I pulled it out and peeked inside, my heart raced.

Money.

A shit ton of money. From one of Thorne’s stores? For Jesse?

After debating for a long minute, I opened the bag and took just enough for a bus ticket, then closed the drawer, crept toward the door, opened it quietly, and peered out into the hall.

Empty. I could hear Brooks and Vincent talking somewhere on the first floor.

Sneaking down the hall back to Court’s room, I grabbed my duffel and tiptoed downstairs. I’d leave out the back, going out the front was too conspicuous. I could pretend I was just sitting on the deck or going for a walk through the tall grass or something.

Based on the direction Brooks’ and Vincent’s voices were coming from, I could tell they were in the kitchen. I took a left at the bottom of the stairs and slipped into the den, where I slid my bag behind two of the cushions on the couch, making sure it wasn’t visible.

Then I made my way back out into the hall and headed toward the kitchen. Vincent and Brooks stopped talking as soon as I entered. I slapped a smile on my face, pulled open the fridge, and grabbed a bottle of water.

Spinning off the top, I took a long sip, then looked at Brooks. “I’m gonna go sit out back,” I told him. I didn’t want to meet Vincent’s eyes; I had a feeling he’d see every single thought I was trying so hard to hide. If he knew I was about to leave, would he care? Would he tell Court? I didn’t understand him and I couldn’t risk it.

Brooks’ fingers paused over the keyboard, his features twisting in concern. His dark brown eyes searched my face for what felt like ten minutes, but then he smiled and said, “Alright,” and turned his attention back to his laptop.

The easy acceptance of my lie for a truth made me feel like the worst kind of person. Brooks had been nothing but kind to me. My gaze slid to Vincent. His sharp eyes held mine, his mouth turned down in a small frown.

I wanted to scream at him for what he’d told me. How he’d decided to address it. If he wasn’t going to tell anyone, how the fuck was I supposed to know that? If he was going to tell someone, well, too bad. I’d be long gone before they got here.

I gave them a wave, headed out to the den, grabbed the bag I’d stashed behind the loveseat, and stepped onto the porch. Something in my chest twisted when I glanced down at the lounger, recalling my conversation with Court yesterday. Where he’d given me some of the worst bits of his painful past. When I’d tried my best to comfort him, like…a normal person.

I ripped myself from the memory, ran down the steps, and headed off without looking back.

TWENTY-FIVE

“Why the hell was Kyle asking so many questions today? That was fucking weird,” Cade said, turning the key in the truck. The engine roared to life, and I waved to one of the Sainted who was headed to his bike.

“Who’s Kyle again?” I asked, pulling my seatbelt on.

Cade ducked his head as he looked out the windshield, scanning the construction site until he found him. He pointed and said, “Him. The shifty new guy, remember?”

I squinted my eyes at the skinny guy wearing a wifebeater. He was sitting on a pile of wooden planks, smoking a cigarette and chatting idly with another worker. “Oh. That guy. What was he asking questions about?”

“Were you not listening to anything? You were right fucking there,” Cade said, irritated with me.

“No, I wasn’t listening. Just tell me what he was asking questions about.”

Cade muttered something under his breath. “He was asking if you had a girlfriend. And then he asked if we wanted to go to a barbecue at his place. Not the compound, but his place specifically, wherever the fuck he lives. Which is fucking weird because I thought Frank said he was living at the compound with all of them. When I said no, he said maybe we could do it at ours. And then he asked where we lived again, as if we’d told him before.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel, eyes hard on Kyle. “I don’t like it. Something’s up with him. Maybe I’ll just ask Frank.”

He’d called us this morning, right when we got on site. He didn’t show up at the sites much, so he usually called if he needed anything. When he’d called, he’d immediately brought up the news broadcast from last night. Said he’d recognized me instantly. Asked me how I could be so damn sloppy—that if he recognized me, then others would, too. That I was a fucking moron for not covering my eyes. I told him to calm down, it wasn’t like I’d been wearing a goddamn name tag, for fuck’s sake.

Then he asked about Whitney, who she was, what we were doing with her. He knew about our entire operation to take Thorne out, but, like us, he was against any kind of violence towards women. Cade and I reassured him that Whitney was with us by her own will, that she was helping us and was completely unharmed. By us, at least. We told him what Tom had done, what Thorne and Tom were going to do to her, and he’d gone quiet.

Only Frank and his right-hand man knew about our plans, so if Kyle was asking shit like that, had someone blabbed? Had he eavesdropped? Something wasn’t right.

“What the fuck is that?” Cade furrowed his brow as I held up the squishy stress ball I’d bought for Whitney.