A quirky smile turns his lips. “The fact that Rocket’s girlfriend was almost kidnapped and then framed for murder says you do.” He turns to look at me. “Hello, by the way. I’m Cole.”
I step out around Brawler, making sure to drop his hand. Whoever the guy is, he obviously has history with the Crew, and he knows I’m Johnny’s girlfriend, so holding Brawler’s hand won’t do. “Sounds like you already know me, so I won’t bother introducing myself.”
“Wait…Cole?” Brawler asks, his voice dipping a few octaves.
Sadness washes over Cole’s face. “Yeah, Mack. Cole.”
Mag moves forward, his gun still raised in Cole’s direction even after we’ve pretty much already solidified that they used to be friends—or at least know each other.
Cole raises his hands in front of him in a motion of surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Not that you fucking could,” Mag scoffs.
Cole licks his lips, looking slightly keyed up, but mostly bored. “I won’t try anything, Mag. I came here to talk and to talk only. I don’t even have a weapon on me, and I know how good of a shot you are with that thing, so I’d appreciate it if you lowered it the fuck down.” Mag doesn’t relent, and Cole sighs. “I didn’t kill your recruit, but I know who did. I knew you’d be coming here looking for info, and I have it. That’s the only reason why I’m here.”
Mag drops the gun to his side hesitantly, but even so, just that motion lifts weight from my shoulders. So far, Cole hasn’t shown us that he means any harm, and I’m willing to take him at his word. For now. Mag must be too, otherwise he never would’ve lowered his weapon.
“I remember you,” Brawler says, his voice far away as if stuck on a memory and not like we’re also discussing murder and gang shit.
Cole rubs his neck, his many hoop earrings tinkling against one another for a surprisingly gentle tone that defies the moment.
“Who is he?” I ask.
“He was my brother’s friend.”
Cole takes a deep breath. “And Johnny’s,” he says, locking gazes with me. Then, he moves his stare to the copper-headed bodyguard. “And Mag’s.”
“We’re not walking down memory lane. You defected, and by right, I should be killing your ass right now.”
“You won’t do that, though, will you?” Cole asks, smirking. He crosses his arms, showing off more ink on his skin. He laughs, and it’s not friendly. I don’t understand the power struggle going on, but Magnum isn’t happy about it. “I mean, we are family after all.”
I blink, then swing my gaze over to Mag who expands like a bomb ready to detonate.
He peeks at Brawler and me from the corner of his eye. “Cousins,” he elaborates. His face when he looks back at his family is this side of terrifying. “Start talking.”
“It was Gregory’s guys sending a warning.”
“We figured as much,” Mag says, his tone biting.
“But you weren’t sure.”
“How do you know?”
“Hearing things,” he shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll find Gregory’s calling card in the recruit’s pocket. He wants you to know it was him. He wants you to know he’s not going away as easily as you’d like. He’s also actively recruiting in your area, so be careful. The Heights Crew has always had a lot of supporters, but they also have people who hate them. Right?”
He eyes Mag, and it might seem like he’s just asking a question, but it looks like a hell of a lot more than that, too. Since he defected, he’s probably talking about himself and others like him. I know more than anyone how people can end up hating the Heights Crew. Even Farmingham’s dead body on the couch is proof of that. How will his family react? Will they hate the people who did it? Or blame the Crew because they’re the linking piece?
“I want to help,” Cole says. “You know why I left.”
But I don’t, and I’m sensing that’s a major part of the story that I’m missing. “And why’s that?”
Cole goes to answer, but Mag shuts that shit down. “Is that all you’ve got for us?”
“For now.”
Mag lifts the gun in his hands again, lining up his shot. His finger steadies over the trigger, and Cole pales.
I take in a steady breath, wondering if Mag is actually going to do it. His own cousin. “Just get out of here,” he says, eventually.
He trains the gun on him the whole time he walks toward