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“Mine,” Chico says. “Jake would just end up there anyway. It's where all the good shit is.”

“You callin' me a user?” Jake snorts.

I make myself laugh along with them. Like we're all old buddies. Like I don't want to kick them out of my moving car and watch them roll along the asphalt. “Hey, can I ask you guys something? Why didn't Dez bail you out sooner?”

“Huh?” Jake pulls a frown.

“I mean, he didn't have to wait until today, did he?” I ask.

Chico is staring at me in the mirror. His eyes are narrowed, face pinched. “That's a good fucking question.”

I nod quickly. “Right. It was bugging me. You're both his friends, you'd bail him out if he needed it, you wouldn't make him sit in that shithole any longer than you had to.”

“He's never waited long,” Jake says miserably. “Hisdaddyalways gets him out.”

“Lucky guy,” I say smoothly. Spotting a Burger King, I motion with my chin. “You two hungry? My treat.”

They perk up at my suggestion. I'm riding cloud nine over how well this is going. Buttering these guys up is easy, it's almost like no one has ever done anything nice for them before. After going through the drive-through and ordering them burgers, fries, chocolate shakes—my whole car smelling like a bucket of grease—I keep driving. They're stuffing their faces, moods at their peak.

It's time to strike.

“Don't take this wrong,” I say slowly, “I've got a question though. Dez gave one of you a letter?”

I watch their reactions. Jake chokes on his shake, but Chico goes dead-still. Again, they share one of their looks, but Jake speaks first. “What about it?”

“He tell you what it was?” I ask.

Chico leans against the window behind Jake so I can see him easier. He pops a fry in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I asked. He refused. Called it a security policy for him in case something happened to him.”

“Happened in what way?” I ask carefully.

Jake slurps his shake, the noise loud in the car. He's down to the dregs. “Dead. That's what he said to me. If he turned up dead, open the letter, read it then but not before.”

“That's weird.” My palms are slipping on the steering wheel from my nervous sweat. “He never explained the letter was for me?”

“What the hell do you mean?” Chico asks.

“It's information about my dad,” I say, noticing how both he and Jake are leaning towards me. They're hanging on my every word. “It's worth more than gold to me. I don't know where my dad is, but Dez does. He's not going to give the letter to me, though, because he can make me do whatever he wants as long as he has it.”

“Holy shit,” Jake breathes out. “So that's what's fucking goin' on!”

I nod enthusiastically. I don't have to fake anger or despair because Ifeelthose emotions down in my heart. They color my words, making everything come out in a tight hiss. “He's not my friend, even less than he's yours. He's a monster. All I want is that letter. I'd do anything … giveanything,”I look at them both as I brake at a red light, “to have it.”

“Anything?” Jake asks dubiously.

“Any price. I'll pay it. Am I making myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Chico says. He props his arm on the back of my chair, talking right near my ear as I watch the traffic. We're over the Granite Bridge, closing in on his house. “Take a left on Oakland Road,” he instructs. He hesitates, then adds, “You'd really pay anything for that envelope?”

“Yes,” I gush.

He drums his fingers on the seat. I can smell the french fries on his breath, the salty scent reminding me of the time I parked my car by the ocean with Jordan. We'd clung to each other, panting, moaning, in the seat Jake is now lounging in with a straw dangling from his pierced lip.

I hate these two men. Hate them and Dez and everything they've done.

But I'll do whatever I have to if it means I can finally slip free.

If I can escape …