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No, I’m not. No one needs to hear that sordid tale. I want to ask him about his life or how everyone else is doing, but I can’t. I’ve been holding myself together, and any backward glances will cause me to break. Connor doesn’t say anything else to me and I walk away before I do something stupid like sit down with him. He eats and checks his phone occasionally. As I’m going about my business, serving customers and cleaning up, I sense his eyes following me.
I don’t fully relax until he leaves. He doesn’t say anything to me, his exit as odd as his arrival. The loss of him is a pit deep in my stomach. His absence has sucked all the air from the room.
“Wryn, he left me a hundred-dollar bill. Can you believe it?” Riley asks.
I look at her hands, where she has the tip extended to show me. A crisp bill lying in her hand, creased down the middle from his wallet. Maybe I should tell her how he probably earned that.
“That’s great, Riley,” is all I say instead.
“How do you know him?”
“He’s a guy from my past,” I tell her.
She nods, cocking her head thoughtfully. “Well, I won’t flirt with him anymore. Chicks before dicks and all that,” she tells me.
I smile at her, trying to hide the sadness in my eyes. I want to tell her I don’t care if she flirts with him, but I don’t. Because I do. I care way too much, and this small interaction between us has shown me that.
“Thanks. But we probably won’t see him again,” I tell her and go on about my day, not realizing how wrong I am.
32
CONNOR
Ieat at the blasted diner every week for the next month. I think I might have a heart attack from the level of grease and saturated fats I’m consuming, all so I can talk to Wryn. I don’t want to scare her. I’m not going to show up at her apartment like a stalker. But I want her to know that I’m still around and I’m watching over her.
We have a fun new game. One where she glares at me as I walk through the door, but then she ends up talking to me throughout my meal. Almost as if she can’t help herself. I love it. But I’m itching for more now. I’ve done what I can for her, ensuring she doesn’t leave Heywood—at least not yet.
Not ever, if I’ve got anything to do with it.
But after my heavy breakfast this morning, I’m back in the gym, working it off. I can’t afford to get lazy and fat.
Geo enters the gym as I’m running a towel over my hair, dripping sweat all over the place.
“The alarm has been triggered,” he says.
I stop, looking at him. I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to get on with it.
“There’s been activity at the old MC clubhouse.”
“I fucking knew it.” I’m seething.
I hate that we were right even though Viktor confirmed the information. There was still a part of me that was hoping we didn’t have a whole fucking trafficking ring. That my father wasn’t a part of that. I know the sadistic son of a bitch was capable, but now, I’ve got to do cleanup. I’ve got to figure out how to stop this shit show, rehabilitate people who have been through the worst of our world, and restore everything back to normal. Or as normal as I can.
“A semi was parked there overnight. The doors opened multiple times. Temperature was manipulated. There are people there.”
“The cameras?”
“We could only get ones outside. Any inside would have been seen. But we didn’t have good vantage points. You can only see a few men on the footage.”
“So, we’ve got to go in ourselves?”
“Looks like it.”
“How long do we have?”
“I don’t know. A week at the most?”
“Fuck.” I throw my towel in the laundry bin and grab my shirt, slipping it on. I wasn’t counting on having to do this right now. I had a plan. One I was slowly enacting. “Did you reach out to our contact?”
