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Hale is stressed as hell about the mole. We all are.
But since no one except the four of us and Damian knows we’ve got a rat in our midst, we have to pretend nothing’s up. We don’t want to potentially scare the fucker and lose him, and as much as it’s gonna suck to find out exactly who’s been playing us behind our backs for so long, it’s our top priority. The only way we’re gonna find out who it is will be by catching them in the act of betrayal, and that’s not gonna happen unless our mole feels confident he’s succeeding. The way we do that is by continuing on as if nothing has happened.
But we can’t keep this up forever. Every day that goes by without us nailing that asshole to the wall is another day he has to plot against us.
Who knows what else he’s got planned?
On Saturday, Zaid and I leave the house and head outside the city for a pickup from one of our suppliers. It’s a routine errand, and I’m relieved
as fuck that at least some things are going smoothly.
We head back to Onyx, and as I pull into the alley behind the club, Zaid alerts security of our arrival. He hangs up his phone as I turn left, heading down the ramp into the parking garage below the building. We’ll swap out for our own car after we meet with Damian, leaving the van here for some of the soldiers to unpack and inventory. If there is anything missing, which there shouldn’t be, our dealer will pay for it.
After ducking out of the van, we take a small flight of stairs that opens to the back of the club, and as we step inside, three older men emerge from Damian’s office.
Frank Leblanc, Leland Bennett, and Stanley Wheeler are all older members of our syndicate with a personal hatred for Grace’s father. They were all close friends with Landon Novak, and they’ve nursed a grudge against Samuel Weston for his betrayal ever since he got Landon sent to jail and then fled Chicago.
“Zaid. Lucas. How is it living with the offspring of a Judas?” Stanley smirks, sauntering over to us.
Frank grimaces. “Fucking bitch. She may be pretty, but even I wouldn’t want the daughter of a rat wrapping her sweet little mouth around my—”
My whole body tenses, red filling my vision in a flash. I lunge without thinking, but my brother’s reflexes are quicker. He stops me from doing anything stupid with a hand to my chest, pushing me back as he catches my gaze. He shakes his head, his green eyes flashing. He’s just as pissed as I am, but luckily, he’s not as stupid. He’s got the sense to know that picking a fight with Damian’s captains is a good way to end up dead.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Stanley’s dark hair gleams as he cocks his head, his eyes narrowing.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Nah.” His voice lowers. “I’m not the one who can’t see straight, son. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Leland steps up beside him. He’s got reddish-brown hair with gray at the temples, and his blunt features twist into a scowl. “Stanley’s right. Westons are fucking rats. She’ll turn out just like her father, I guarantee it. So enjoy that pussy while you can, before it grows teeth and bites your dick off.”
Zaid’s fingers flex against my chest, again commanding me to keep my mouth shut and let them walk away. Getting into a fight with Stanley or any of these guys is dumb as hell, but that doesn’t mean I have to like the angry smirks on their faces as they turn and walk away. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to punch Stanley in his smug face until blood coats his teeth.
My whole body is tense, but Zaid reminds me with a cock of his head that we’ve still got work to do—meeting with Damian. The rest is a routine that puts me back into a better headspace, familiar stuff like debriefing with our leader, checking up on syndicate business, and letting him know how our assignments have gone.
It passes by in a blur, and soon we’re back in the car, tension still hanging on my shoulders. Forcing myself to take a deep breath and let go of it, I stare out the window as Zaid starts the car and pulls out of the parking garage.
We’re barely out of the alleyway before he slams a hand against the steering wheel. “Goddammit! That fucking cocksucker.”
I almost grin, although there’s nothing funny about this. He’s better at keeping his emotions under control than I am, but I should’ve known he’d explode as soon as we left the club.
“I can’t take this anymore.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t fucking take it.”
I grimace. “Yeah. I know. We’re all strung out right now, but we need to just stay chill and—”
“No. Fuck that.” He curses under his breath. “I don’t want to chill out. I’m pissed as fuck. I’m pissed at those old fuckers for blaming Grace for shit her dad did. Shit she didn’t even know about! And I’m pissed that Grace doesn’t trust us, that these are the circumstances that brought us back together. Jesus, I thought about her for years after she disappeared, hoping I’d see her again one day. Hoping she’d come back.”
“Yeah.”
I clench my jaw. Zaid and I are close as hell, and I know exactly what he’s talking about. I find my own emotions mirroring his. All the anger I stuffed down to keep from hauling off and decking Stanley is rising back up.
“Fuck, man.” Zaid scrubs a hand through his hair again. “I spent so long wondering if this moment would ever happen. Grace coming home. And now that it has, Damian’s on her back, there’s a mole in our syndicate, and she hates us.”
“She doesn’t hate us,” I mutter. I’m not sure if I’m saying it because I actually think it’s true, or because I just can’t stand to think of Grace despising us.
I mean, hell, the way she looks at me sometimes… the way she looks at all of us? It seems a lot closer to love than hate. But the fucked up part is, every time she gets that soft look in her eyes, it always vanishes eventually, hidden behind the walls she keeps putting up. I can’t blame her. The way our lives collided was violent and fucked up—not the kind of thing you’re supposed to build something real and lasting on.
But I want to. Even though it seems impossible. I want her to look at me with love and desire in her hazel eyes, and I don’t want the lingering remnants of distrust to infect that anymore.
