Page 22

D ark night falls over New York City.

The lights brighten up the buildings, and I pass by them in a blur. My helmet’s on a bit tighter than I’d like it to be, and since I’ve cut my hair, I no longer have to deal with it being matted from the wind.

Blair and Rose are closely behind me. We’re rushing, and at the same time, trying not to break any laws. Cove took it upon himself to do the maintenance of my bike, and I can tell that he did an amazing job. It’s fucking shiny. It hasn’t been shiny since I bought it.

Blair speeds past me, and I swear, I can hear her laugh.

Rose is more careful. She’s technically still a newbie and isn’t trying to rush into her death. She keeps a safe distance from me, moving to the right side, riding alongside me. Blair’s at the far right, stopping at a red light.

It’s cold.

The November night sends chills down my spine. I’m geared up, but it still pushes through thick clothes, my hands freezing under the leather gloves. I glance at Blair, and she’s giddy. She wants to race, which is something we do often.

But we do it in a secluded spot, with no traffic.

Doing it here would result in getting arrested, and I can’t have that on my record. One mishap and it would cost me the family secret and business. Something tells me that Noelle and Hudson will both be very, very pissed off by that.

Matter of fact, Blair can’t afford to get arrested either. She has spent a few years in prison already, and this time, I don’t know if Arlo could pull off massacring an entire prison to set her free. How he did it the first time without getting caught or leaving any DNA at the scene is still a mystery to me.

The green light turns on, and we take a right turn. The bar we’re going to is in a more reserved area, further away from our homes. Arlo and Blair live in the building next to me, and Rose officially moved in last week after her birthday.

Somehow, Blair managed to get information out of Arlo. I don’t want to think or question which methods she used; however, I am grateful that she got something out of him.

Wyatt’s been laying low. He’s been almost too silent.

Cove had another four fights in a span of two weeks, and not once did he appear in the basement. Arlo hired a few people to keep an eye out for him, but he was a no-show all four nights. He didn’t show up during Cove’s off nights, either.

Arlo doesn’t want to involve Mom and Dad yet, and I’m inclined to agree with that decision. The two of them would deal with Wyatt and the whole gang within a week; they’d wipe them off the face of the Earth and make it seem like they never existed.

I don’t want that.

They’ve fought enough of my battles. I’m not that proud not to ask for their help if I need it, but at the moment, I don’t. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to handle it all by myself; however, I won’t know unless I try. I’m determined to kill Wyatt myself.

Arlo and Cove spent a lot of time asking around, pulling strings, and contacting people all around. The gang is not quite open with their business yet. It takes time to establish a trusted relationship in this line of work, and they’re not patient enough.

However, Cove found someone who knows someone and asked about Wyatt — well, Karl. Apparently, he frequents this bar every Wednesday and Saturday with a couple of his friends. Blair suggested we go on a Friday and just ask around.

Rose’s job is pretty simple.

While Blair is asking the bartender a lot of questions, and I’m listening in and observing the bar for any unwanted faces, Rose will flirt around and put bugs and cameras within the bar wherever she can. Would her man absolutely massacre the bar if he found out what I asked Rose to do?

Yes, but James is also in prison, so fuck him.

We park behind the bar, leaving the helmets there. Blair’s the first one to strip out of the thick jacket, leaving her in some high-waisted black jeans and a crop top that would definitely make my brother stare.

Rose and I just unzipped ours. It’s too fucking cold to be walking around in a crop top. More or less, we’re dressed the same. It’s accidental, but it looks kind of cute. We grab our phones and wallets, and Rose puts the bugs and cameras in her pocket, ready to use them.

“Ready?” Blair asks.

I nod.

Rose smiles.

“Let’s go.’’

The bar is what you’d expect it to be. It has history; it’s not new. If the date isn’t a lie, it was built back in the seventies. It still holds that nostalgic air in it, which is why half of the people inside are Mom’s age, mid to late forties.

No one pays us any mind as we take a seat at the bar. Rose glances at me, and I nod. She’s quick to start mingling around. My eyes follow her for a while before I turn my attention to Blair and the bartender.

He gives us both a beer each, per Blair’s request, and she pays with a hundred-dollar bill. I sip on mine, silently observing everything. The yellow lights are dimmed, creating a rather cozy atmosphere. The music is loud, but not too loud. Chatter can still be heard, followed up with laughter.

“That’s too much for two beers, doll,’’ the bartender snorts, glancing at the hundred-dollar bill.

Blair smiles politely, but I can see the annoyance in her eyes at the use of the word. She doesn’t say anything, just pushes the bill toward him over the bar, batting her eyelashes.

“That’s for information.’’

The man raises one of his bushy brows but doesn’t take the bill quite yet. His eyes dart between Blair’s face and the money, contemplating his options. Eventually, he leans over, intrigued. I can tell he’s not being bribed for information often.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles. “What kind of information?”

“I need to know anything you can offer about a man named Karl Brown.’’

Both of his brows rise to his receding hairline, and he leans back. Their conversation is interrupted by a woman ordering a drink. He fixes her up the drink, his eyes never leaving Blair’s. Once the woman’s out of earshot, he folds his arms in front of his chest.

“Not many people know that name around here,’’ his voice is filled with skepticism. “Why do you need to know about our boy Karl?”

The way he says ‘our boy’ sets the tone for the rest of the conversation. Blair doesn’t miss it, either. She’s smart, and she quickly adapts. Carefully, she looks at the bartender, whose name tag says Joe, and sips on her beer. She taps her index finger on the bar, building suspense and likely trying to come up with a believable lie.

“How much?” She asks.

“How much what?”

She chuckles. “How much for the information and to keep your mouth shut about it?”

He stops to think about the question. “Five hundred, and I get to ask a few questions of my own.’’

Blair nods. “Deal.’’

“So tell me,’’ he leans in again. “Why do you two pretty ladies need to know about Karl?”

He doesn’t look at me, but it makes me straighten up. Sure, Blair and I came together, but I’m sitting a little further away from her, trying to let her do the job alone. I didn’t expect he’d rope me into the conversation.

With a chuckle, I switch seats, sitting right next to Blair.

She takes charge of the conversation. “Let’s just say he owes us money.’’

Joe smirks and tilts his head to the side, inspecting both of us with a leery expression. His eyes dart between the two of us. Blair is more relaxed, unfaltering under the scrutinizing glare. Her head is held high, a faint smile on her otherwise stoic face.

“Alright, I’ll bite,’’ he clasps his hands together on the bar, amused by the situation. “Karl is a newcomer to the city, so to speak. He’s a very closed-off person and is always in the same crowd.’’

“Bad crowd?” Blair asks.

Joe nods. “Very bad. Don’t get me wrong, for the business? They’re great. But overall, I wouldn’t want my children around them, if you know what I mean.’’

Accepting the brief answer, Blair decides to poke the bear further and test just how much Joe is willing to say. She leans in, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, and looks him straight in the eyes, serious.

“That’s not information worth the money, Joe. Tell me more.’’

A low smirk forms on his face, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Smart girl,’’ he shakes his head. “For starters, he’s a quiet fella. From what I’ve heard around the bar, he had some major issues with some criminals a few years back, so he fled the city, and he’s returned now.’’

Blair hums. “What for? Revenge?”

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. I was right to assume he was trying to keep a low profile, but hearing Wyatt be described as a quiet man goes against everything I know about him. It feels like the calm before the storm, and the storm will be enormous and destructive.

“Could be,’’ Joe shrugs. “But if he was involved with criminals who managed to scare him into hiding, I think he won’t just blindly seek revenge. If they did it once, they sure as fuck can do it again.’’

“Does he speak of anything around here? Maybe something you didn’t think was relevant at the time, or something that could tell me where he’s living.’’

Joe pauses to think. “He’s here frequently, and since it’s in a less crowded part of the city, he’s either insane to come here often or he lives nearby. I never asked; I never cared. I did overhear that Karl and his folks are planning a game.’’

My ears perk up, but Blair beats me to it. “A game? What kind of a game?”

“Fuck if I know,’’ he snorts. “All I know is that it involves a lot of blood, and that’s when I stopped listening. Karl is a nice man;he doesn’t cause issues at the bar, doesn’t get drunk, or cause problems with the staff. I’m not about to go and question him about it.’’

Blair nods. “Right. Anything else?”

“Just that he keeps talking about a woman.’’

My body tenses. Blair reaches under the bar and gives my knee a soft squeeze of reassurance, not once taking his eyes off of Joe’s face. She raises a brow. “A woman?”

Joe laughs. “Apparently, she’s half the reason he left the city. He wants some sort of revenge on her. I haven’t seen the lady, but whenever he talks about it, he’s angry as fuck.’’

I swallow thickly, gulping down the rest of the beer. My eyes dart through the bar, spotting Rose across the room. She’s chatting with some people, and it still amazes me just how easily she can fit in any situation.

Her eyes find mine, and she gives me a small, curt nod before returning to her previous conversation.

“Thanks, Joe,’’ Blair says, pulling out the agreed-upon money. His eyes light up slightly as he counts the bills, then he shoves them into his back pocket.

“You’re welcome, doll,’’ he grins. “And just because you’re being generous with your cash, I’ll be generous with a little more information.’’

“Oh? Do tell.’’

“Karl has already kickstarted his revenge plan.’’