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“What’s this about the party that has you so convinced?”
He blows out another breath, scratching his head. “I kinda saw somebody when I was lying in the alley—well, I’mpretty sureI saw somebody. De Trolio was pulling up in a town car. He had a mask on, and I had just got my ass kicked by six goons, but it looked a lot like him.”
“He’s a member of the Neptune Society.”
“Yeah, if I had to guess. He was attending the party.”
“Most in certain tax brackets are. Including members of different crime families. We’ve been aware of this, Francis. Families used to host meetings at the fucking clubhouse back in the day.”
“I was more so thinking something else… what if Ivan Volchok is the leader of the club? What if Lucius and Ivan have some kinda alliance going? It explains why nobody knows who heads the club, and why Volchok was behind paying Azeria and Mirra.”
My head slants to the side. “You’re suggesting Lucius asked Volchok to target Delphine.”
“Psycho, Lucius plays dirty. My pop was in a crew with him when he was coming up. He’s… he’s very creative. The things he did to rise up the ranks and eliminate competition. Cutthroat was putting it lightly.”
“That contradicts what her father said. The club was initiating her as they do all members of the elite.”
“Then maybe he’s in on it too. I don’t fucking know, Psycho. I’m just saying this feels like some deep level shit and we’re going in with blinders on.”
“I’ll consider everything you’ve said. But understand we’re retrieving the second half of that tape regardless. I’m destroying Lucius regardless. Even if I destroy myself in the process. That’s the bottom line.”
“And Miss ADA? Don’t you think we should have a contingency plan? We’ve got to be real about it. She’s a weak spot by no fault of her own. It might be a good idea to… go your separate ways as the clock winds down.”
My expression tightens. “Phi and I talked about that. She won’t be directly involved, but I’m not leaving her in the dark. We’re a team.”
“It’s not just your life on the line, Psycho,” says Stitches. “You’ve got dozens of guys looking to you for direction. You go down, we all go down. Lucius won’t leave any survivors. He never does.”
* * *
In the past, going for rides was a way in which I cleared my head. If there was too much noise or I was having certain urges, like the bloodlust that often courses through my veins, I’d hop on my sports bike and take off for a couple hours.
Sometimes, even leaving Northam altogether.
Less in the colder months, but so far, this November hasn’t been unreasonable.
Delphine tags along. She’s grown to love riding on my bike so much, I can’t turn her down.
We set off with her arms tight around my ribcage and our gear shielding us against the cold air that whistles the faster we go.
I decide it’ll be a long ride. I take us outside the bounds of Northam and ride across the bridge connecting to Westoria.
Where we’re headed, even I’m not sure, but the possibilities feel limitless.
This late on a Sunday evening, the traffic’s nonexistent and the road’s clear. We’ve got another twenty to thirty minutes before the sun sets for good and twilight falls.
I pull over in an empty lot—once upon a time it used to be a drive-in movie theater. In recent years it shut down due to low attendance and plummeting profits. The old cinema screens are still up, giant blank canvases that rise up twenty feet high.
Delphine slides off the bike and lifts her helmet. “The old drive-in. Any reason we came here?”
I shrug. “I was just riding. Figured we’d stop for a few minutes. Then head somewhere else.”
“There’s a lot of nostalgia here.”
“You could say that again.”
She walks toward me, her hips so sexy and curvy in the tight jeans she wears. I reach for them, loving how grabbable she is—her hips, thighs, ass, tits, it’s a shame I’ve only got two hands.
We come together in a slow, tender kiss, my hand on her ass, hers in my hair. She draws back and sifts her fingers the rest of the way through my strands.
