Page 153 of Ly to Me

I had Hayes wait by his truck, not wanting Lyra to get it in her head that we were up to no good, because she’d be right—we were about to fuck up Jamie within an inch of his life. The chains I’d used on her the night before were coiled by the foot of the stairs, and when we stepped outside, I grabbed them and draped them over my shoulders.

“This can’t take all night,” Hayes said, leaning against the hood of his muddy truck.

“What else you got goin’ on in your life where you can’t spend all night beatin’ up a piece of shit?” Grant hollered back as he went to his truck and pulled out a bat from the backseat.

Hayes’ reaction was minimal as he replied, “Nothin’ you need to worry about.”

“You got the same race coming up as Tallulah?” Grant asked.

Hayes smirked. “Sure do.” His chin jutted toward me. “Address?”

“Already sent.”

“Yeah, maybe if you put your bike down and checked your phone more often, you’d’ve seen it,” Grant muttered.

“Been quite busy lately,” Hayes shot back as Grant and I hopped into the bed of his truck.

“Well, aren't we lucky you had some free-time,” Grant said sarcastically as he tapped on the top of Hayes' truck. Hayes'response was to get into the driver's seat and peel out of my driveway, sending Grant on his ass.

Grant narrowed his eyes at me. “Stop laughin’, asshole.”

I pointed at him. “You deserved that one. You know it.”

The night was humid, thick with the promise of a late night rain storm as we drove through the outer edge of town. Barely any porch lights were left on in the older, more run-down streets. Had Jamie’s truck not been parked in the driveway, I’d be sure Leo had made a mistake.

Exiting the truck, I tilted my head between Hayes and the back gate, signaling for him to go around the back, then gestured for Grant to follow beside me to take the front. With a baseball bat over Grant’s shoulder, I tested the front door—locked. I cupped my hands and peered inside the home—pitch-black.

Without missing a beat, Grant looked over his shoulder, then swung his bat through the front window. Glass rained down around us, littering the floor inside.

“Real fucking subtle,” I said as Grant punched out the rest of the glass with his bat.

“What? Shit like this happens all the time in this neighborhood. Cops don’t even bother comin’ by here anymore.”

I followed behind Grant, sliding the chains from my neck and wrapping the end around my fist while the rest dragged behind me along the tiled floor. Hayes stood by the back door, his crowbar pointed toward the couch.

Jamie was still sleeping, passed out holding a beer bottle that barely touched the floor. The three of us lined up and stared down at him. Hayes tapped Jamie’s foot with the crowbar, startling the bastard awake.

“What the—” His eyes shot between the three of us, fear filling each feature. I wanted to see more of that tonight. He made to sit up, but Grant’s bat jutted into the space, barring him from moving.

“Uh-uh.” Grant tutted, sending Jamie back.

His eyes grew wide as he stared at my chains.

“This place is a shit-hole, Jamie. Even for you.” I cocked my head, wrapping the chains once more around my fist.

“What do you want?”

“Your hands,” I answered.

“M-my hands?”

“You touched my wife and stole from my facility. So, yes. What do you think? Fair trade?”

“Sounds pretty fucking fair to me,” Grant tossed in, bouncing the end of his bat on his open palm.

“I never stole a damn thing!” Jamie shouted.

I brought the video Leo had sent me hours before up on my phone. Hitting play, Jamie’s eyes grew wider.