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Sara keeps talking, talking, talking, not even pausing for breath, and I run through this new information in my mind. Chloe, Kady and Sophia. No Alexis. But then again, I know she’s here; Zeth told me he’s seen pictures taken by Michael before he got caught, so they must have changed her name or something. She’s not Kady, that’s for sure. Alexis is even more fine-boned than I am; no one would ever accuse her of having a hooked old-man nose. That leaves Chloe and Sophia. My heart sinks in my chest when I realize I’m not going to be able to speak to Alexis until tomorrow night now.
And what if I can’t even speak to her properly then? What if we’re surrounded by people all night long and the opportunity doesn’t present itself? I’ll just have to make it happen, I guess. Come hell or high water, I’m getting my sister out of there.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were Rebel’s cousin?”
Michael’s out of his dirty, blood-stained clothing and back in a well turned-out suit, the way I’m used to seeing him. I’ve thought about laying the motherfucker out for keeping something so huge from me, but it’s wasted energy. He has a right to keep shit like that under lock and key. And making him bleed would only mean he’d have to go get changed again.
“Not my call, Zee. I’d have told you way back when, but Rebel doesn’t want people knowing about family, y’know? Thinks it’s a weakness to have people out there worth kidnapping and torturing. Bad for business. Especially if you’re in the kind of business he’s in. He’s got enemies, man. Big ones.”
I grunt, knocking back my beer. “Makes sense. Still…”
“Yeah, I know, man. I know. I could have trusted you with it. I should have.”
Michael knows Rebel was the one who bid on Sloane’s V-card. He also knows how I feel about sick motherfuckers who kidnap girls and rape them against their will. I’m quiet about most things, but this is perhaps the one thing I’ve been vocal about. He undoubtedly knew I wouldn’t react to well if I’d found out before all of this that Rebel was Michael’s blood.
“You heard from him since Julio’s call before?” I ask.
Michael nods, collecting a beer from the ice bucket by the pool and sitting down to join me. “That’s why I came to see you. He’s coming here.”
I point to the floor at my feet. “Here? Rebel’s coming here? Why?”
“For the event. To ghost Julio for causing me grief. To screw some girls. I don’t know. He just told me to expect him.”
This is fucking fantastic news. Fucking. Fantastic. An onslaught of problems present themselves to me all at once, giving me an instant headache. Will he see Sloane and recognize her? Eli, the P.I. I killed must have shown him photos of her for him to have bid so fucking high on some random girl’s virginity. Will he fucking behave himself? Will he do something that my temper just won’t tolerate?
Alongside all of that are the small advantages that present themselves, too, though. If Rebel is here, Julio’s gonna be on his best fucking behavior. He’s gonna be distracted, trying to shove his nose so far up Rebel’s ass that he won’t be paying attention to me. Or Sloane. Or a prize hooker being snuck out of the place. Plus…I’ve never met Rebel. I’ve only heard his name spoken amongst the bike gangs and the cartels, whispered like the man’s a fucking god or something. This is a prime opportunity to meet the guy and see what he’s like for myself. To put a face to the name. And commit it to memory for later so I can beat him to death, should the need arise.
“You listening to me, man?” Michael’s already downed his beer, and is holding out a fresh one to me, too. “I thought you were leaving Lace with the doctor? Where is she?”
“Oh. With Sloane’s parents.” I pull on my beer, mulling that one over. The whole thing is kind of ironic. And worrying.
“Aren’t they super religious?”
“Yeah. Her dad’s a minister. Doesn’t get more religious than that.”
Michael smiles politely, although I can tell the fucker’s grinning on the inside. “And do they know about Lacey’s girl-on-girl tendencies? Or the fact that she’s dead set on killing herself at the earliest available opportunity?”
A volt of panic charges through me at his last question. Lacey may have taken to playing with the odd girl here and there, but she’s not a lesbian. It wouldn’t matter to me if she was—eating pussy’s addictive. I can see why chicks like it—but the real reason Lacey’s toying with the fairer sex of late is because she’s afraid. Afraid of guys. Women are softer, kinder, gentler. There’ll come a time when Lace’ll get over that, though. Or at least I’m hoping there will. That’s got a lot to do with the other thing. The dying thing. Sloane may have told her parents to watch Lace like a hawk, but they can’t really understand how messed up the girl is. They don’t know her like I do. They don’t know the level of commitment she’s dedicated to the cause of her own demise. I need to fucking speak to Sloane. I need to speak to Sloane’s fucking dad. If she dies on his watch…
Michael brings me back from thoughts of murder. “Does Sloane have a problem with Lacey?”
That’s a weird fucking question. I was going to drink some beer, but the bottle only makes it halfway to my lips. “What? No. Why would she?”
This has Michael chuckling, shaking his head. “You’re clueless, boss. You’re fucking Sloane, yet you’re so protective over Lacey. The doc’s gonna assume you’re fucking her, too. Or that you used to fuck her.”
