“Thailand?” Trying and failing to pinpoint the country on a mental map of the world. “Like Thailand halfway around the world?”
Dev caught a gleam in the way the sun hit seconds before Tank’s oldest boy, Lewis, came around the corner, at the far end of the row. Two additional prospects flanked each side. So this was in fact on the lumberyard’s property. It made perfect sense. At least better understandable as to why all this cash was left seemingly unsecured.
“I gotta go, Mom,” Dev said, reaching across the truck for the revolver always kept inside Mack’s glove box. He never took his eyes off Lewis as he righted himself in the seat and kicked open the door farther. Life was so goddamn fucked. He had no idea who to trust anymore.
He cocked the gun as the group came toward him. They were young, cocky, and confident in stride. Full of natural brute muscle.
“It’s the new prez.” Lewis might have tried for a jovial tone, but the set of his jaw and deep-seated frown spoke of grief. He appreciated Tank having a family who missed him in death, but it didn’t mean shit to Dev. “What’re you doin’ out here, boss?”
As Lewis came to the truck, Dev lifted his hand with the phone still in it, showing he was talking. Lewis nodded, quietly mouthed, “My bad.”
They stayed in a group a couple of feet from the hood. He stared at them while putting the phone back to his ear, deciding there was nothing too nefarious about them, at least the best he could tell. He let go of the weapon, leaving it within reach then tossed the phone on the dashboard. He slowly got out of the truck, keeping his eyes on the guys.
“What’s up?” Dev asked.
“I saw Mack’s truck on the video feed and figured it was you, but I came to check it out anyway,” Lewis explained. “Diesel’s got us still workin’ over there.” Working over there could mean a lot of things. None of it very good. Lewis didn’t sound happy.
“Take some time off if you need it,” Dev answered. “We’ll hold your position. I suspect it was your old man’s position.”
“What I fuckin’ need is to avenge my old man’s murder,” Lewis bit out harshly. The hate turned to sadness. Tears sprang to Lewis’s eyes.
Okay. What did he do with crying?
At some point, Dev was probably going to have to deal with the shit life dumped all over him… Or not. Whichever. Probably the latter.
“Look, we gotta handle this in steps. We have a shit ton of one-percenters headin’ at us. In theory, we have a truce, but we all know that’s questionable. When the funeral’s done and the clubs take off and the local law enforcement isn’t watchin’ us like their lives depend on it, we’re gonna figure this out. Trust me, okay?” Dev said as gently as he could while keeping the authority in his voice.
Lewis sniffled, trying to keep the remnants of the tears inside. “What’re ya doin’ here?”
Fuck. He wasn’t any good at impromptu lying. He scratched his head and looked down at his feet, thinking a shootout might be a better option than anything he could come up with as his reason for being there.
“This property’s part of the lumberyard?” Well look there. It wasn’t a lie, and it wasn’t the truth. It was a redirection, and he gave himself a mental high five.
“Yeah. As long as I’ve known about it,” Lewis said, and Dev nodded.
And he nodded again like a damn bobblehead. “I’m findin’ out new shit every day.”
“Your mother didn’t know?” Lewis asked.
Well fuck. Now he was going to have to lie again. He nodded which didn’t technically answer shit and hooked a thumb over his shoulder back to the truck. “I got shit to do.” He whacked Lewis’s brawny bicep, for what reason, hell if he knew. “Keep up the good work. If you need time, no fuckin’ problem. Take it.”
Lewis lowered his gaze, swallowing a lump down his throat. “You keep your head up too.”
Dev didn’t say another word as the guys turned away. He waited until they hit the corner then waited longer before heading back to the truck. He needed to talk to Shanna. He guessed. Maybe he’d just call Cash.
Chapter 32
The frustration and anger hadn’t eased for Cash, not by a long shot. He paced the small apartment as he half-listened to Joe talk case theory. In this particular brainstorming session, he didn’t engage. Shanna though, had his back, stepping in to run ideas. Joe didn’t seem to notice Cash’s withdrawal.
While Joe worked, Cash was consumed with wanting to submit his letter of resignation then scoop up Dev and his daughters and get the hell out of Dallas. His palms itched in anticipation with how badly he wanted to do that very thing.
In reality, he performed in a shell of the capacity he once had. All his energy went to leading the crew overseeing this screwed up funeral ritual. His brain spiked with a headache. He reached for his temples, rubbing his thumb and forefinger in small circles to relieve the tension forming there.
He looked down at his smart watch, noting the time. The days felt longer. He still had hours before Dev was due home.
“We have clubs currently riding into Dallas from the north, south, and west. Every local PD in their path has every available officer on deck for the next week. They’re already complaining about the overtime they’ll have to pay. It’s all the news is talking about,” Shanna said, leaning forward, hand under her chin as she read from the computer screen.
Cash nodded when she looked back at him then he resumed pacing, making loops around the living room furniture.
