His eyes scan my supplies, and he rubs his chin. “Interview?”
“Tag.” Throwing him a roll of duct tape, I jerk my head. “Carry that for me. He’s getting loose.”
“Maeve safe down there alone?”
At my annoyed look, he holds up his hands. “Fair.”
Commotion behind us pulls our attention away as the capo walks down the hall holding a carton of ice cream and soy sauce. My stomach turns.
He sees it and huffs. “She’s pregnant. You try telling Sloanenowhile she’s carrying twins.”
“No thanks.”
Shuffling past them, the capo drops the carton and calls after me. “You have some explaining to do, Reaper. My whole club was fucking destroyed tonight from your stunt.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I smirk. “If I remember correctly, you signed off on it.”
“Not fucking carnage.” He throws his hands up in the air, his accent growing thicker with his agitation. Sloane must get a kick out of pushing him. “I have bodies to hide, and the police looking for answers.”
“Use our men,” Hayes interjects. “They’ll hide the evidence.”
“That’s not the point.” He pinches his brow. “Jesus, it’s like talking to a bunch of brick walls. What the fuck happened?”
Sighing, I wave my hand in the air. I’m craving a cigarette, and unfortunately, I left those in the basement. The capo is working my last fucking nerve with his questions.
“Gunfight,” I supply. “A few leaks that were plugged.” Or will be. Once Tag talks, we can see how far this goes. If there is anyone else in this clan who thinks Maeve can’t be trusted to lead.
I’ll end them all.
“Reaper, I swear?—”
The doorbell rings.
All three of us stand still, looking at each other, before we glance at the two guards by the front. Odd to have someone stop by in the middle of the night. Even weirder, to be here—at a criminal family’s compound, outside the city limits.
If it’s the idiot Reese again, I swear to God…
When no one makes a move to answer the door, I throw my items into Hayes’ chest. Useless, the whole lot of them.
When I pull the door open wide, I have to keep from slamming it shut.
“Briar.”
With wide shoulders, dark hair, and familiar green eyes—it’s like looking at a ghost from the past come back to haunt me. He resembles his father painfully—with the same gold flecks his oldest sister inherited, large muscles, and pale skin that shines under the moonlight rays.
He looks like what I would have assumed Ferguson did at twenty, before lavish riches got the better of him. But the cunning look in his eyes and the devious smile? Those are entirely him.
“Aren’t you going to let me in?”
The bastard pushes his way in, and I’m two seconds from grabbing his neck and throwing him back out. He can’t be here—he’s not allowed.
“Kid, listen?—”
“Briar?” Hayes gasps, and I curse my fucking luck.Shit.
“What’s up, Hayes?” he greets, one hand on his bookbag, the other in his pocket. Dressed in a hoodie and a pair of jeans, he could be a young MIT student coming for the holidays. Only I know better.
“You can’t be here,” I growl, fighting the urge to strangle him. “You know that.”
