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“It depends.” I studied her. “You might be better off staying outside the compound’s territory.”
She scowled at me. “Why did you let my taxi drive off if you don’t think I should come inside?”
“Because it’s not as if you could discuss whatever the hell is going on with him listening in... Taxi drivers don’t come with plausible deniability as a part of the service.” I scowled right back at her. “So, come on, tell me. What’s going on?”
“I’d prefer to tell Sin,” she rattled off.
“Well, preferences don’t mean jack. Sin ain’t here.” I grimaced at her. “I have no idea when he’ll be back either.” I wasn’t lying. Runs took however long they took. It wasn’t as if we had a timetable. “He could be gone for days.”
With Nyx a part of that run, and some sick fuck potentially on the hook and about to lose his balls to the Sinners’ Enforcer, days was an understatement.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t have days.”
I frowned at her. “Why not?”
Her panic was a real and visceral thing and, like it or not, it put me on edge.
If she cried, I’d lose my shit.
“I’m not even sure if you can help,” she whispered, taking a step backward, her eyes massive in her face.
It was then I realized that if I didn’t soften up and coddle her, she’d flee.
When Ma had gotten sick the first time, Sin had helped us with the co-pay for her prescriptions—he deserved better than for me to run off his sister.
“We’re the Sinners. Ain’t nothing we can’t do.” I asked her something to get her out of her head: “How did you know to come here anyway?”
She blinked. Took a step closer to the gate. “One day, he came to our house. I saw his patch. The internet told me the rest.”
I knew she wasn’t lying because I’d seen her with my own two eyes that day in Westchester, but I knew Maverick, our resident tech genius, would be scrubbing Google for references to us if that was how she’d located our clubhouse.
“Where did you get the address?”
“There’s a blog about you.”
My eyes widened. “A blog?”
“Yeah.” She nodded to compound her admission. “I was surprised.”
Jesus.A blog?
“I’ll need the website’s address.”
“Sure. Whatever. I thought it was weird… but I was desperate enough to give it a shot. I thought it was a hoax at first.”
“So, you mean to tell me that you got a taxi to an address that could’ve been wrong and that could have led to some kind of serial killer’s lair? Is that what you’re saying?”
I shouldn’t have been angry with her.
But I really fucking was.
Those stars had faded by now, and the fear was back. She reached out, her dainty hands curling about the bars, French tip nails, so clean, elegant just like her, peeping at me as she clenched down, whispering, “That tells you how desperate I am.”
Desperate? More like stupid.
Sin had done due diligence on her, and I’d been along for the ride, so I knew it was grades, not her daddy’s money, that got her into NYU.
Pulling stupid moves was not something a woman this smart should do.
