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“Walker—”
“Never mind. Let’s talk through the evidence.”
Something was going on in the sniper’s head, but Zy wasn’t here for advice or gossip. He had to help the friend who was his brother in all ways except blood. “I’ve talked to Trees about the night you were taken from the parking lot in Acapulco. He said you told him to leave.”
“Yep. But I expected him to put up a little more fight, bring backup—something. He just drove off.”
“What would you have done in his shoes?”
“Shot a motherfucker or two.”
Zy mentally counted to ten. “You know his specialty is computers and tech. He doesn’t have your gift with a gun. Pretty much no one does, man.”
“Okay, but he didn’t come back or call anyone for hours, did he?”
Everyone said Walker was crazy; no one had ever called him stupid. “You didn’t realize your food had been drugged?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Trees made it to the parking lot of the police station about a mile away and passed out. Some cop woke him up, like, twelve hours later. He didn’t even remember driving there. I assumed you’d figured out that you’d been drugged, too.”
“Since they beat my fucking skull in and I passed out, I didn’t notice. Why didn’t Trees tell me himself?”
“He’s felt so fucking bad about what happened to you, man… He didn’t know what to say.”
“Well, if you can prove Trees innocent, then I’ve got no hard feelings. If you can’t, tell your pal to keep looking over his shoulder. Someday, I’ll be there.”
That pissed Zy off. “Wanting your pound of flesh?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“I get it. But I’m telling you, it’s not Trees.”
“Are you convinced it’s not him because you have a shred of proof or because you don’t want him to be guilty?”
“Stop being an asshole. Trees and I go way back. I know because I know.”
One-Mile sneered and stood. “Sure. Whatever. I’ve got to go.”
Zy grabbed his arm. “I’m not fucking done talking to you.”
The sniper glared down at the fingers he’d wrapped around his arm, then into his face with a warning. “What are you looking for here? You want me to believe Trees is innocent because you said so? I don’t work that way.”
Zy sank onto his stool again. “I just want you to listen.”
“For shits and giggles, let’s say you’re right. Trees is a choirboy. But we have an internal mole, no question. It’s not me or any of the bosses. We know that. It can’t be Josiah or Cutter. Neither of them had the memo with the address and schematic of Valeria’s house in St. Louis. I passed that on to Trees to see what would happen. Then I waited. And what do you know? Company came, ready to kill. If it’s not your pal, who do you think is the guilty fuck?”
Mentally, Zy scrolled through the possible suspects, but the list was short…and Walker was right. On paper, Trees looked guilty. “Maybe someone hacked his email.”
“Maybe you’re grasping at straws.”
“No, I’m looking at every potential possibility to explain what happened. But let’s be real. If you hadn’t decided to go all cowboy on us, Montilla’s crew would never have killed a handful of cops and he would never have gotten away.”
One-Mile glared, looking like the mean motherfucker everyone accused him of being. “Don’t deflect blame. I know what I did. But even if I snuff Montilla, we’ll still have a mole who will be susceptible to the next son of a bitch who comes through with a pile of cash and a desire to shut us down.”
“I know. But I’m telling you, man, it’s not Trees.”
Walker rolled his eyes in exasperation. “There’s no evidence his email was hacked.” The sniper cocked his head. “Unless… What about Tessa? She’s the only other person I sent Valeria’s address and home schematic to.”
He had? This was the first Zy was hearing of that.
“Maybe she passed it on to Montilla,” One-Mile suggested.
Zy recoiled—and started rethinking his earlier assessment. Maybe Walker was stupid after all. “No. Hell no. How would she have ever met a monster like him anyway?”
One-Mile shrugged. “Maybe he found her.”
“You’re wrong. She’s too sweet to sell anyone out.” But she did need the money, no denying that…
One-Mile glared. “You only think that because you’re fucking her.”
“Fuck you! I’m not. When it comes to the bosses’ nonfraternization policy, I have not stepped one toe over the line.”
Walker leaned in, elbow on the bar. “Listen, either your best friend or your girl is our traitor. You better figure it out before the blind spots in your vision cost someone around here their life. And now I’m leaving.”
Zy cursed and restrained the urge to punch the asshole, but starting shit wouldn’t solve anything. He turned away to grab hold of his temper—and caught a glimpse of some trashy tabloid show on the big-screen. But what—or rather who—he saw there made his jaw drop. “Holy shit. What is this?”
