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“I’m not sure what to feel right now,” he says. “Being angry with you won’t get me anywhere. It won’t bring back Samuel.”

I scrub a hand down my mouth.

“He was one of the good ones,” Paul says.

“That he was,” I agree. I run my finger over my fork.

Paul looks at me. “Do you have any idea who did this?”

“No. I’ve never been more clueless.”

He nods. “They’ll be coming after all of us then.”

“They will. I need you to up security, Paul. Make sure Ma is protected, too. I’ll have my own people watching her, but I need to know you have people, too.”

“That’s not an issue,” he says.

I hold my glass up for a refill. Moments later, I have one placed on the table.

“What about you?” Paul asks.

I take a sip of my drink, and then I grab my case of smokes from inside my blazer’s pocket. Knowing they won’t say anything to me about it, I light one. I toss the silver case onto the table. “I have a plan, brother. It’s a hell of one.” I blow smoke from my lungs and lift my glass. “I’m going to need your help.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Trig

I stand against the kitchen counter when he walks in. “You killed his fucking brother.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know he would be there?”

I shake my head, hitting my cigarette.

“Weren’t you going to do it, anyway?” he asks.

I nod. “True.” I pick up my beer and take a sip.

“What’s the plan now?” he asks.

“They’ve planned for us to head to Atlanta tomorrow night. But we’re not going to Atlanta. I’ve just got to figure out a way to get Bones away from Sweep. Keep your phone on. I’ll call you when it’s time.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Bexley

One month three days missing

“When he shows up, I need you to run as fast as you can to that truck. He never turns it off, so the keys will be in it. Go and then look for a phone. He might have left one in there.”

“I don’t want to leave you. I can help.”

“No, love. I need to know you’re out of harm’s way. Please do this for me.”

Tears fill my eyes when I know they shouldn’t. I shouldn’t care for this man. I should be glad he’s giving me an easy out, but just thinking about him trying to fight Carson by himself… He’s too weak. How will he win? My eyes move from the wrapped glass that sits in the chair before going back to him.

Wrinkles run across his forehead, a scar cuts through his left eyebrow. I wonder how he got it. I look at his full lips and his beard that has a strand or two of gray.

I suddenly grow panicked, like if I don’t make a move here, I’ll never have a chance again.