so many ways, but when it came to nearly-dead bikers, they proved useful.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“She asked me if I knew a place where she could get a phone unlocked.”
“What?” I asked, my stomach sinking into my wounded leg. I had not thought about my crappy burner phone. I’d totally forgotten about it. But if she had it, and she was getting it unlocked, she was walking down a deadly path.
“She had a phone with a passcode and she needed to get around it. I told her Eric could do it.”
It was my cellphone. I knew it. My burner. Lagan, if he was smart, and God knows the guy was, had probably ditched all his phones and changed all his numbers. But he would have kept my number. Because he had a plane full of uncut coke that he needed to sell and distribute. And I was that guy for him. We’d put months into this deal; he’d left all other distributers behind as our negotiations got more and more serious.
Lagan would be desperate.
And we had a relationship.
And at the top end of this dirty fucking business—relationships meant something. They mattered.
So, Lagan might have ditched his phones, but he wouldn’t have gotten rid of my number. He was waiting for me to reach out or he was waiting to reach out to me.
My phone could connect all the dots.
“So,” Fern said, pulling me back into this moment. “If I unlock you, what are you going to do?”
“You scared?” I taunted her because I was edgy and pissed off and way sick of being locked up to the bed.
And I did need the can.
Her eyes glanced down my body, taking in my tattoos. All the scars. My life was visible on my skin—every hard inch of it.
“I’d be an idiot not to be,” she said. “But you should know I’m the condo association president around here—”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
“There are eyes on me,” she said. “And one of them is a security professional, former military, and he’s got connections all over the state.”
I couldn’t give a shit about her security professional geriatric boyfriend. I had to get out of here and get to Joan before she unlocked that phone and started calling people. Started bringing the shitstorm right to our door.
“Shower,” I said. “Bathroom. That’s all I want. And I swear I won’t do anything.”
Fern undid the handcuffs and I lifted my arm to rub at my wrist. She jumped back at the motion, her body in a ready stance.
I’d been in a lot of fights and the guys who fought back with any kind of effectiveness—they stood like that. On the balls of their feet, hands up ready to block. Eyes sharp.
Fern was a fucking mystery. Just like her niece. I’d fallen in with witches.
“Calm down,” I told her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah, something about you doesn’t seem entirely trustworthy.” Her eyes raked over my tattoos. Each one declared me a bad, bad man.
I unsteadily got to my feet.
“You need help?” she asked.
“No. Where’s this phone guy?”
“You wanted a shower?”
“Shower later. Phone guy now.”
“I’m not telling you.”
I crowded her back against the wall, she hit me. A solid strike against my shoulder and a kick at the leg where I’d been shot. She made contact there, but I only winced and kept at her, pushing her into the corner, putting my hand against her chest, and grabbing her fist in my hand. She struggled and she was strong, but I had too much riding on this to play fair with a woman.
“This is not a game,” I told her.
“You got that right.”
“Joan is going to get herself in deep trouble. If you care about her at all, you’ll tell me where she went.”
“I’m really supposed to believe you care about her?” Fern asked, like the idea was ludicrous.
“I guess that means you don’t?”
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah, you and Joan have a real family resemblance.” I gripped her purple shirt in my fist and thunked her back against the wall. Her eyes went wide.
Yeah, yeah, I’m an asshole.
“You want me to go knocking on every door in this place?” I asked. “You want me to put on my cut and start causing problems? Where is she?”
Fern screwed her face up like she was about to spit on me, just as the door to the condo unit opened and we both heard Joan walk in.
I pivoted, still holding her shirt in my hand