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“I know,” Props said quietly. “I know, dude. I know that if I talk, I’m dead. I know that.”
“And you did it anyway? Why?” Tray asked him, but I answered for him.
“Because he needed permission to do it. He needed a reason to test himself.”
I saw that I was right when Props looked relieved.
“He wouldn’t have known what he could do if I hadn’t asked him,” I finished. “Tray, what does this mean?”
“This means that we have enough,” he said gravely.
“Enough for what?” But I didn’t want to know, not anymore.
“Enough for us to start setting up our plan.”
I looked at Props and asked, “What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything. Really. I’m good with the date I got and knowing that I’m alive right now.”
“Thanks for de-coding this stuff.”
“Hey.” Tray stopped him, just as he was starting to put all his equipment away.
Props turned and waited. The guy looked like he was about to pee in his pants.
“One word of this and it means you, me, and Taryn could all get killed. You got that?”
The guy couldn’t talk. I watched his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
“He knows,” I said quietly for him.
“If I ask, if I give you the go-ahead, do you think you could dump all of this info to the DEA?” Tray asked, staring at him intently; trying to read Prop’s reaction.
He was talking about his brother.
“Tray,” I murmured, “what are you thinking?”
“I’m just thinking of some options, Taryn. That’s all. For now anyway,” he answered. Looking back to Props, he pressed, “Would you be able to do that, Props?”
“Any account?”
“No. A specific person’s, like if Taryn or I were to go missing.”
“Yeah.” He was shaking, but he sounded confident. “I could do it.”
“Okay. Until then, you stay with your little group of friends. You say nothing. Nothing, you hear me?” We all heard the threat behind Tray’s voice.
“Not a word. Nothing. Promise.” Props looked like he was about to faint.
“He’s got it, Tray. Props, you want some help clearing this stuff up?”
He moved fast, faster than I expected because in a matter of seconds everything was shut down, unplugged, and encased in a bag.
Whoa.
“Guess not,” I murmured, half joking.
“We good? I mean, until…you know, until the account stuff?” Props was standing, his bag over his shoulder, asking for permission to leave.
