The Havoc We Wreak - Becca Steele Page 0,14

back and gave me a wicked grin. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

“You’d better.”

SIX

Once Winter and Cassius had disappeared inside the house and I was in my R8, I pulled out my phone and shot a quick text to Zayde.

Me: You done?

Z: Yeah. You ready?

Me: Yeah.

Z: You sure about this?

Me: 100%

Z: Meet you there

Starting the engine, I pulled away from the house with a powerful roar, a smile spreading across my face as I felt the thrum of the engine responding to me. The rush that came every time I drove my car was better than any drug.

I put my foot down as I raced down the coastal road and onto the motorway that led to the city, the R8 effortlessly slicing through the traffic, leaving everyone else in my wake.

As I drove, I thought back over my earlier conversation with my brother. He’d been worrying about Christine, replaying the voice memos from Winter’s dad over and over, but there was a determination in him I’d never seen before. I knew if anyone could uncover more evidence, it would be him.

The buildings grew closer and closer together, tower blocks appearing on the horizon as I swung the car into the nondescript car park. I beeped the horn, once, and the graffitied metal garage door in front of me rolled slowly up, and I drove inside, parking next to Zayde’s bike. I hit the button to close the garage door behind me, and headed through the small door that led into the tattoo shop.

Zayde was already in there, talking with the tattoo artist as he inked the skin of a bored-looking guy with a shaved head and pierced brow.

“Alright.” I crossed over to join them.

“Rich boy.” The tattoo artist spoke without looking up at me, intent on his work.

“Mack,” I greeted him, admiring the design he was inking into the guy’s bicep—some kind of scorpion, venom dripping from its stinger. “Nice work.”

“Cheers. We’re almost done here. Help yourself to drinks.”

I gave him a brief nod. “Z? Want a coffee?”

“Black.”

“Like your soul.”

He smirked at me. “What soul?”

I laughed and helped myself to coffee, setting a mug down in front of Zayde. “Mack? You want one?”

“I’m good,” he replied, turning off the tattoo gun and wiping the bicep of the guy he’d been inking. “Done. Let’s get it wrapped, then you can go.” They both stood, their low conversation fading as they walked over to the mirrors at the back of the shop.

“You sure about this?” Zayde asked me again. “This shit is permanent.”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure, just like I was the other fifty times you asked me,” I said irritably.

“Alright. Calm down.” He flicked through the book of tattoo designs that rested on the table in front of us, deceptively casual.

“I’ve got another stop to make after this. You wanna come?”

“Depends. Where?”

I eyed him carefully. He was tense, again. Whatever shit he’d been doing this morning had left him on edge. “I’ve got to pick something up. A birthday present for Winter.” He was opening his mouth to say no when I added, “It won’t take long. We can grab a drink after, if you want.” I’d been wrapped up in Winter and all this shit with her mother lately, but Z was my best mate, and he’d been disappearing more and more often lately. He needed this. Even if he didn’t know it.

Abandoning the book of tattoo designs, he picked up his mug of coffee and met my eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”

Sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic in the city centre, I idly noticed the admiring glances of the tourists as they took in my car. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I’d say they were probably admiring me and Z as well.

Speaking of Z, I glanced over at him, needing to ask him the question that had been playing on my mind ever since the Allan bombshell. He reclined in the passenger seat, tatted arm propped up on the windowsill, and aviator sunglasses hiding his icy gaze. “You wanna tell me what happened when you disappeared when the rest of us went to the docks?”

He continued staring straight ahead. “Alright. I remembered Creed mentioned one of his boys had seen an older, balding guy when he was watching the docks. I had to check it out.”

“Was it Allan?” I inched the car forwards, before coming to yet another stop. This traffic was a fucking joke.

“Yeah, think so—sounds like him, anyway. No fucking clue what he was doing, but he was seen talking