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Mateo:I’ve got your money. Meet me at the diner ASAP.
With a grunt, I pushed up to sit, wondering what had his boxers in a wad.
Me:WTF?
Mateo:We can’t be seen together. Also had another OD last night. Sixteen-year-old kid.
He didn’t need to say more. It was long past time to take Pittman down. I just regretted ever being a part of that bullshit, even though I’d been nothing more than a young punk looking to make a buck and a name for myself. Thank God prison, the stable support of a good older brother, and at least a few brain cells in my head got me back on track instead of back in the same dead-end game.
Me:I’ll be there in twenty.
We sat in the back booth of the diner, Mateo in his civvies. He slid me a thick envelope after the waitress left with our coffee order. “This should be enough to get you something cheap to drive and at least get a conversation started with Guidry. Then we’ll see where that gets us.”
I nodded and slipped the envelope under the table, taking a quick glance at the contents. It appeared to be at least a cool twenty grand in hundred-dollar bills if I had to guess. I tucked it into my inside jacket pocket.
“I saw a used bike for sale at Medina’s Auto. I’ll stop by today and see if it’s still there. Then I’ll work on Guidry.”
Mateo leaned his forearms on the table and lowered his voice. “I don’t need to remind you to be fucking careful, Adam. These are dangerous assholes, and they won’t think twice about taking you out if they find out about this.” He glanced toward the door. “Hell, if they even suspect it. So keep your eyes open and let’s get this done as quick as possible.”
I waited while we were served our coffee and we refused breakfast. “I’m good, Mateo. I’ve worked with Pittman and his crew before, remember?” His eyes flashed to mine. “And I also learned a thing or two inside.” I sipped and set down my mug. “I’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” He grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen from inside his jacket, scrawling a number on it and sliding it my way. “This is a burner phone number. It can’t be traced to the police station, but I’ll be keeping it with me for the duration. Program it into your cell as your parole officer. I’ve worked out a deal with Julio for the time being. That’ll be our cover so you can reach me without anyone suspecting.”
I pulled out my phone and created the new contact, typing in the digits. “Got it.”
“You need something, you call me anytime. Day or night.”
“Yup.”
His gaze was intense. “I don’t want to find you burned in a barrel, Adam. Or chopped in little pieces. Or shot up full of heroin to look like an OD.” He fisted the napkin and stuffed it into his water glass, watching as the ink dissipated into purplish-blue blobs. “I don’t want to have to tell my brother-in-law that his little brother got himself killed.” Our eyes clashed and I knew he was serious. “And if you make me give Faith that kind of news, I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you myself.”
A grin pulled at my lips. “Careful there, Chief Beckett,” I said. “You almost sound like you care.”
“I care about my family,” he said. “And my town. So don’t screw up either one of them.”
We chatted a few more minutes over coffee, then he slipped out first. I left a bit later so we wouldn’t be seen together on the street, just in case. I checked the time. It was still early, but Medina’s would be opening soon. I zipped up my leather coat, tugged down my beanie, and set out that way.
I haggled old Mike over the cost of a used Suzuki SV650, but when I produced cash, he gave it to me for a song, throwing in a helmet and the first two oil changes on the house. The feel of a bike between my legs again was invigorating. Freeing. I set out for a long ride, hitting the interstate and winding through the next two towns before turning back. Even in the biting cold, my freedom really hit me for the first time since exiting those prison gates.
I wound the long way around Redemption, then back, by the reverend’s old house, which was now a charred shell of its former self. I slowed as I passed Faith’s old place, my mind wandering to last night. To her.
You weren’t alone under that bridge... What protected me from you? You shattered me. Wouldn’t you want a say? Wouldn’t you want one now?
Now?
What did that even mean? What did she want from me? As it was, I was walking a dangerous line, unable to keep my hands off her, which was only going to bring us both more heartache. Bring her more heartache.
I hit the throttle and gunned it down the road, leaving those thoughts behind.
I rumbled up to the parking area near the shop and found Faith outside, swallowed up in one of my Espérer Ink hoodies and a pair of flannel pajama pants, shifting back and forth in the cold with Lancelot on the leash, obviously taking his time to do his business.
She glanced up just as I dropped the kickstand and yanked off my helmet, her cold dance pausing momentarily. “You bought a motorcycle?” The shock on her face was priceless.
“I sure did.” I let my gaze roam down her body, then back up. “Raiding my closet this morning?”
“I, uh...” Her already pink cheeks flushed deeper. “He needed to pee, and this was the warmest thing I could find in a pinch.” Big blue eyes met mine. “I haven’t unpacked yet.”
Meaning she was holding out on staying, clearly only there because she hadn’t figured out a viable alternative.
