Page 3

Dice

Yarder’s voice cut through the low murmur in the room like a blade. “Leo and Brynn are ready to move on Boone, Gibbs, and their crew,” he announced from the head of the table. “Stretch included.”

The room stilled.

“No,” I said, my voice loud enough to rattle a few skulls.

Compass turned his head and shot me a glare that could’ve melted chrome.

“Stretch did not flip,” Pirate said, his voice hard and unwavering. “There ain’t no fucking way that he did.”

Yarder shook his head, slow and heavy. “The only proof that Leo and Brynn have found in the past two weeks is that Stretch did, in fact, flip. He’s doing shit for Boone and Gibbs. He’s in their inner circle.”

I shifted in my seat, feeling the eyes land on me like weights. I hadn’t told Yarder about the call I made to Stretch. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He would’ve made me call that number again, and that could’ve put Stretch in more danger than he was already in. Not that danger was avoidable anymore. The Banachi didn’t give a shit about loyalty. If Stretch was in their way, they’d mow him down with the rest of them.

“We all know Stretch wouldn’t go against the club like that,” Throttle said, crossing his arms over his chest. “He has to be getting close to them on purpose. Working an angle. When he’s got enough, he’s gonna flip it all.”

Yarder scoffed. “If that’s what he’s doing, then he’s an even bigger idiot than I thought. How the hell is Stretch going to take down Boone, Gibbs, and everyone working for them? What’s he got—nerves of steel and a death wish?”

“I never thought Stretch would flip on us,” Yarder went on, “but since we can’t get a hold of the asshole, we have to assume he did.”

“He didn’t,” I cut in, my voice low but certain.

Yarder glared at me. “I’m gonna need some fucking proof from anyone saying Stretch didn’t flip. I’m all for believing in unicorns shitting rainbows and Stretch not being a traitor, but we all know neither of those things can be proven.”

“I can prove it,” I said, still calm.

Yarder tilted his head, mouth tight. “How the fuck can you do that?”

“I talked to him.”

You could’ve heard a fly fart in the silence that followed.

“What?” Compass whispered.

“You talked to him?” Yarder asked.

I nodded, resting my forearms on the table. “Almost two weeks ago. Right after Leo and Brynn told us Stretch was with Boone and Gibbs.”

The look on Yarder’s face was a whole new level of pissed. I half expected steam to shoot out of his ears.

“You’re just now telling us that you talked to Stretch?” he exploded. “Two fucking goddamn weeks later?”

If I put a cape on him right then, we could’ve called him Super Pissed.

“How the hell did you call him?” Compass barked. “I’ve been calling his phone ten times a day. It always goes straight to voicemail.”

“Same,” Cue Ball added. “His voicemail’s full. I can’t even leave a ‘fuck you’ anymore.”

“Because I didn’t call that phone,” I said simply.

Yarder lifted his hand, already exhausted. “How about you just tell us exactly how you talked to Stretch since clearly you’ve got some magic backdoor line none of us do.”

“Had,” I clarified. “I had a line to Stretch. When I called, he told me not to call him again. That he’d reach out to us when he needed to.”

Compass let out a long, annoyed huff and leaned back in his chair. “Pretty sure by the time he thinks he needs us, he’ll be six feet under in a trash bag when Boone and Gibbs are done with him.”

“What the hell did he say?” Yarder demanded.

I met his eyes. “He was pissed I called him. Told me I was screwing things up. I told him he needed to get the fuck out of there. Let him know the Banachi were coming.”

Pirate scoffed. “Seeing as he’s still cozy with Boone and Gibbs, I’d say he didn’t take your advice.”

“Pretty sure if someone told me the Banachi were coming for my ass, I’d be halfway to Mexico by now,” Cue Ball said with a dark chuckle.

“Yeah,” Yarder nodded, dry as a bone. “Almost like you tipped him off that the Banachi were coming, and he let Boone and Gibbs know.”

“He said he’s in deep,” I continued. “That he couldn’t stop now. Told me I know him and asked me to keep the Banachi off his ass.”

Yarder threw his hands up. “Un-fucking-believable, Dice. Not only did you talk to Stretch and keep it to yourself, now we have to talk to the Banachi and tell them to ease up? After we practically begged them to get involved?”

“Lay off Stretch,” I said. “Not Boone and Gibbs. He didn’t say anything about stopping them.”

“Sure,” Aero said with a humorless laugh. “I’m sure Leo and Brynn can run in guns blazing and magically dodge Stretch in the chaos. Sounds easy.”

Yarder ran both hands through his hair, seething. “I am so fucking sick of this shit. We were this close to wrapping this up, and now we’ve gotta pump the brakes because Stretch thinks he’s goddamn Jason Bourne. You—” he jabbed a finger at me, “—you’re gonna be the one to talk to Leo and Brynn. I put my neck on the line to get their help, and now we can’t even fucking use it.”

“I’ll get a call into them,” Compass offered.

Yarder shook his head. “Nope. I’ll call them, but Dice is doing the talking.”

He yanked out his phone, hit a few buttons, and laid it on the table. He hit speaker, and we all stared at it like it might bite.

It rang five times. Straight to voicemail.

“Leo,” Yarder said. “Give me a call back when you have a chance. We’ve got some intel you’ll need.”

He ended the call and muttered, “So fucking sick of this shit.”

He stood abruptly and pointed to the rest of us. “I’m done for the day. I’m hauling Poppy into our room, locking the fucking door. Don’t bother me unless the goddamn place is on fire.”

And with that, he stormed out.

Aero looked at me like I’d just kicked his dog. “You really thought it was smart to keep it quiet that you talked to Stretch?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Because if I told Yarder right away, he would’ve made me call Stretch again, and that’s the one thing Stretch said not to do.”

Silence again.

We were all pissed. Hurt. Confused. Stretch had been one of ours. Still was, if I was being honest. Even if the guys wouldn’t admit it right now.

“Can’t fucking go back now,” Fade muttered, standing and stretching his back.

“Let’s just hope he’s not lying to you, Dice,” Throttle added.

One by one, the guys got up and headed out of church, filing back to the common room without a glance back.

I was the only one left.

I tapped my fingers against the edge of the table, jaw tight, heart heavy.

I hoped Stretch wasn’t lying to me either.