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“Seems like a strange way to die,” I ventured, watching the bartender’s reaction.
He swiped his rag over the countertop harder. “You never know. He certainly didn’t have many friends around here. A person’s sins can catch up to them eventually.”
Vague and noncommittal—playing it safe. He knew how things worked in Paradise Bend.
As if any of us here didn’t have plenty of sins to our name. Man, if this place was any type of Paradise, it was definitely the crooked kind.
I kept my tone neutral. “Is there anyone here who he might have talked to at all? Maybe they could give me a hand with what I was going to ask him about.”
“I can’t think of anyone, but around here, he’s more likely to have been breaking bones than hanging around to chat.” He turned his back on me, conversation over. I wasn’t getting anything else out of him, but I didn’t think he knew any details about the murder anyway.
I looked around, wondering who to try next. The snooker guys seemed to be as good a bet as any. I slipped off my stool and sauntered over to lean against the table.
I wasn’t exactly a sexpot in this hoodie, but one of them looked up after taking a shot and gave me an unrestrained leer. I forced a smile. “You play really well.”
He smirked. “Thanks. I haven’t seen you around here before. Looking for some… action?”
“Buddy, pay attention to the game,” one of his friends said with a sigh.
“This isn’t my scene usually, but I come by every now and then,” I said, trying to keep him engaged. “I think I have seen you before—were you playing with Titus?”
One of the men snorted. “The Titan? He never touched a cue in his life—except maybe to break it over someone’s head.”
I bit my tongue. Wrong tactic. But Titus clearly had a reputation around here. No one seemed to have any specific personal animosity toward him, though.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed the man from the bar now lingering in the corner. Was he trying to listen in on our conversation? A chill washed through me. Had he realized who I was?
I was probably being paranoid, but my gut told me that I would rather be safe than sorry. This place felt like a dead end.
“Thanks for your time, gentlemen,” I said and ambled off as if I wasn’t in any hurry. Outside, I glanced at the reflection on the window of another storefront and saw the man follow me out. Picking up my pace, I took off toward a row of old warehouses, most of which were in terrible condition.
After walking for a few blocks, I glanced around and found the man had vanished. Crouching as if I needed to tie my shoes, I scanned the area for the space of several more heartbeats. When I didn’t see any sign of him, I exhaled in relief. False alarm.
The grumble of a large vehicle brought me back onto my feet. Slipping into the deepening shadows of a doorway, I watched an armored truck approach. What the hell wasthatdoing here?
I caught a glimpse of a red bandana around the arm of the guy in the passenger seat. The Steel Knights were behind this too. The truck had to be carrying something important. Drugs? Weapons?
As it disappeared around a turn, I made a split-second decision to follow it, breaking into a sprint to catch up. I had to figure out what they were up to. We couldn’t take down Colt if we didn’t know everything he was preparing.
The armored truck was moving slowly as if the driver was concerned about jostling its contents too hard. That was an ominous sign. I managed to keep up with it in short dashes between bits of shelter, never letting myself get too close. When it veered into Steel Knights territory, the hairs on the back of my neck rose, but I was committed now.
After several more blocks, the truck swerved to pass through a low gateway. Behind a crumbling brick wall around a courtyard, the dingy form of another warehouse loomed. As I came up on the wall, the truck’s engine cut off somewhere inside the compound and a man started shouting commands.
Itching to take a closer look, I slunk over. I hitched myself up using the few loose bricks that stuck out of the wall. It was an easy climb. Keeping my head low, I peered over the top.
Men were ferrying huge crates from the rear into the warehouse. A tall man stepped out of the back of the truck, and my blood ran cold. I didn’t know his name, but his face was burned into my memory. He’d been with Colt the night of the rehearsal dinner—he was the one who’d shot my grandmother.
“Hurry up, we don’t want to dawdle around all day,” he hollered.
One of the men heaved his crate out faster, and it slipped from his grasp. As it crashed to the ground, its lid jolted off.
“You idiots,” the man snarled. “Can’t even do one thing right.”
I squinted to see the crate’s contents. It looked like guns, large ones nestled in straw. Lots of them, from how many I could make out and the size of the crates.
They must have been bringing in hundreds. What the fuck did they want with so many weapons all of a sudden? It almost looked like they were planning for a major assault.
Against who? Hadn’t taking down the Claws been enough? How much of the Bend did they want—and what made them think they’d need an army’s worth of firepower to get it?
