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The man’s face goes red. There’s an angry tremor in him as he flexes his fingers and tries to decide whether it’s worth coming at me again.

In the end, he stays down and retrieves the money. Which is when I get in my car and drive away.

Fuck.

Shaking my hands to discharge all my anger only does so much good. Dean might be pissed if he knew I came here, but fuck it. This needed to be done, and he’d never do it himself.

Call it twisted love. Call it control. I’ll always do the things Dean needs when he can’t.

Telling Dean’s old man to fuck off is one of those things.

Besides, Dean wouldn’t have had that kind of money to give to his father. He’d have caved and sent a few hundred dollars, which would’ve only resulted in the asshole coming back for more.

This way, if we’re lucky, it’s a clean break.

A couple of hours over the border into Florida, I’m at a rapid EV charger when I get a text from Dean: Hey Ella’s asking for those ice pops you buy her sometimes. The root beer-flavored ones. Think you could grab some?

My GPS tells me I’m still about an hour outside of Belle Argo.

Had to run an errand. Be there as soon as I can.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Dean

After asking around at Ella’s school, I finally found out the kid suspected of bringing those pills to school has an older brother in high school. A snotty teenager living on the wealthy side of town? I’d bet my bank account that little a-hole’s involved.

I want to kill him for putting my girl in harm’s way. All the kids in that school.

Even after helping me send anonymous emails to Mike’s clients, Liam’s hacker was kind enough to find me the teenager’s information. Nice lady.

That she said I didn’t need to repay her still makes me nervous, but one thing at a time. Apparently not everyone in the world will only help if they get something in return.

The world I’ve been living in slowly pushes you to give up little pieces of yourself. Look at Brennan, offering to help me for the low price of whoring myself out. It’s why I don’t feel so bad about fucking with his business. Mike’s right; it was a dumb risk I shouldn’t have taken. I feel bad for the risk. I don’t feel bad for hurting Brennan.

The houses in this neighborhood aren’t too far off from the kind I’ve visited for work reasons, though this one is on the edge of a golf course, and I’ve learned those are more closely monitored. If anyone who lives here has hired me, it would have been at a hotel.

Lord. When did I evaluate the geography of Belle Argo based on whether closeted residents might recognize me? I rub at the ever-present cold spot in my chest.

I’m not sure I’m old enough to feel as tired as I do.

I get past the gate guard by giving a fake name of who I’m there to visit and showing the fake ID I used to get into bars before I met Billie. A perk, if you want to call it that, of being as tall as I was. Even at seventeen, nobody batted an eye.

The gate guard eyeballs me a little too long. Long enough that the cool night air can’t keep me from sweating. In the end he lets me go, and I make a mental note to take my time on the way out. Rushing to leave might make him more curious.

I park in a cul-de-sac a couple of streets over from where the kid lives and walk over. I weigh the risks of parking closer versus having to walk longer on the way back. Everyone’s got those doorbell cameras these days, and in the end, I decide this is the better way to go.

I hope. To be on the safe side, I keep the hood of my sweatshirt pulled around my face.

Mike hasn’t been around all afternoon, but I sort of wish he were here. He might have a better idea how to handle all this. Then again, he’d probably remind me of consequences, tell me why this is too dangerous. I’m not ready to hear that. Not now.

Maybe God is smiling on me, because when I approach the house of the boy who brought the pills to school, there’s an older teenager outside alone, shooting hoops at the end of the driveway. He’s got an awful record based on my observations as I approach, with the ball hitting the rim and bouncing away more times than it actually goes in.

“Hey, pass me the ball.”

He whips his head around. Kirk, according to Liam’s hacker. Kirk Cartwright. And I thought my name was stupid.

“What?”