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“You really believe me?”

I shrugged again.

“It’s not about believing you. It’s common sense. It’s patterns. The Redliners have never shied away from a gun fight. These guys ran as soon as they were spotted, like they were there just to be seen. They apparently had red lettering on their vests?—”

“Cuts,” Ashe corrected, and I rolled my eyes.

“And none of you guys have anything on yourcuts. They’re just plain.”

“Wearing colours is illegal here,” he shrugged. “It’s like having a giant fucking target on your back.”

“All these little letters, signs, situations, they just don’t feel like Redliner attacks to me. They’re too sophisticated.”

Ashe snorted a laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” I sighed, pushing my plate away.

“Now that you mention it,” he scrubbed the back of his neck. “We’ve been getting the weird shit too. Threatening riddles and letters, black cars outside of the clubhouse. Assumed it was you guys.”

“Wasn’t The Family. As far as I know, anyway,” I mumbled.

It very well could have been, and I would have no idea.

It’s not like I was made privy to the goings on of my family or their businesses. But I was pretty confident that these little games were not something that my brother would waste his time with. It all seemed too petty, too underhanded, too trivial to be anything from a true outlaw.

The last time that the Redliners screwed with the Santinos, my family members spent weeks planting trackers and devices on their vehicles so that they could control their cars via a computer and make them crash themselves into fucking walls.

Leaving little notes with riddles? Not really the Santino style.

“What did they think? When you told them it wasn’t us?”

It was my turn to laugh out loud now.

“They don’t listen to me,” I chuckled. “They thought I was just trying to defend you.”

“Well, I’m listening,” Ashe sat up straighter, reaching over to my chair and pulling it towards him so that I was right by his side. “Tell me what you think is going on, Zar.”

I eyed him for a moment, trying to discern whether he seriously wanted my opinion or whether he was humouring me. Because if it was the latter, I was no longer interested in wasting my breath.

But Ashe’s eyebrows were pulled together in a serious frown, and his eyes never left my face. He waited patiently for me to speak, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table as he waited.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I breathed quietly, not quite sure what to make of this man while he looked at me like that. Like I was the most important person in the room, on the earth. Like whatever I would say would be interesting, like whatever I thought was worth hearing.

He shook his head slowly. “Tell me, Zarina.”

“Whoever it is, is trying to play you both against one another.”

His phone chimed in his pocket, but he stayed focused on me.

“I’d say it’s probably someone more like us, not like the club. With money and time, but with no experience.”

“Rich kids,” Ashe nodded.

“Probably.”

He hummed in thought, and quickly checked his phone and then sighed.

“What is it?”