and hopefully we’ll find enough there to get a Washington warrant for the garage,” Nick said. He shook out of his black jacket, leaving just dark jeans and a perfectly pressed blue shirt. “I’ll drive.”
Sounded good. I grabbed the printout and followed him outside. Fluffy clouds had moved in and were starting to cover the sun as I jumped into the front seat of the jeep, studying the printed-out map as he drove away. “It doesn’t make sense,” I murmured.
Nick glanced over; his hands sure on the steering wheel. “Those are clear interstates with certain cities mapped. Las Vegas, Reno, San Jose…”
I leaned back to study. “Clear distribution channels.” I pointed to the math off to the side. “These smaller towns don’t make sense.”
Nick frowned. “Agreed. Rexburg, Idaho? Newcomb, Utah? What’s the deal?”
“Maybe it’s in the how of the distribution,” I murmured as rain began to splatter down and hit the windshield. “Those towns are in farmland. Maybe rodeo?” What could it be?
“There’s a connection. We just haven’t figured it out.” He pressed the gas once on I-90. “I didn’t ask. Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Mad as hell that they involved Pauley.”
“Don’t blame you.”
I cleared my throat. “So, um, Aiden had a few things to say about you.” The paper crumpled on my lap, and I gingerly smoothed it out.
Nick snorted. “I’ll just bet. What? I was a rich kid from the other side of town who is so ambitious I’d risk your life?”
Well, that actually did sound familiar. The hair stood up on my neck. It felt odd to be talking to Nick about Aiden without admitting what had happened between them. “No. That you and your brothers took care of your dad. In a bad way.”
Nick stiffened, and tension poured from him. “Really? I’d thought that rumor had finally died.”
So, it had been a rumor.
“What else did the career criminal say?” Nick growled.
I tried to breathe normally. “Just that your dad hit your mom and then disappeared one day when you three brothers were teenagers. He made it sound bad.” How odd was it that both Aiden and Nick had rough childhoods? “Was it true?”
A muscle worked in Nick’s jaw. In profile, his features were so straight and Italian, he could be part of a sculpture. “Yeah. It’s true. Our dad was a total dick who liked to hit. When he skipped town with his latest side piece of ass, we were all better off.”
“You were how old?” I asked.
“Fifteen. My brothers were both fourteen.” That’s right. The other two were twins. I’d forgotten. “And no, we didn’t kill the bastard.” Nick rolled his neck, and his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Although, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have at some point. I’d finally hit a growth spurt and was almost as tall as him. Not as broad or strong, though. It would’ve been a good fight.”
My arms chilled, and I rubbed hands together. “I’m sorry, Nick.”
He shrugged. “Small towns thrive on gossip, and that was a juicy piece. It just so happened he got in a few good hits before leaving town, and we all were bruised that week. Rumors and gossip, you know.”
Yeah. I did know. “Is that why you went into law?”
“Maybe. It’s supposed to help people who can’t help themselves.” Now he sounded thoughtful. “I believe in justice. Maybe in vengeance.” He turned and pinned me with his amber gaze. “What would you do to Jareth Davey if you could?”
That was a question I truly didn’t know how to answer. “Depends which day you catch me on.”
He nodded, turning back to the road. “I get that. I really do.”
After about fifteen minutes, he exited the Interstate for a residential area near the Idaho-Washington border. Single-story brick homes with manicured lawns led to nice apartment buildings, a few businesses, and then some run-down homes with burned lawns and a lot of weeds. Finally, we reached a series of apartment complexes, each more depressing than the last.
The clouds finally disappeared, letting the moon shine down. At the end of a winding dirt road, a Lorde’s shield hung in the middle of a three-story apartment complex with peeling paint, dented doors, and cracked windows. In contrast, a series of garages lay to the east against forest land, all open and sporting impressive looking motorcycles. Their bikes were obviously more important than anything else.
Uniformed police officers, all wearing body armor, tossed the multitude of apartments as well as the garage. Several Lorde’s members, inducing