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It’s the first time I’ve actually called them out as being Reapers, and for a second, I wonder if it was a mistake.
Then Logan leans forward. “And what exactly is it that you’ve heard?”
He doesn’t blink, and the leashed intensity in his gaze is mesmerizing and terrifying at the same time.
Shit.I need to make it clear that I’m not a threat to them. Bringing up West Point is treading perilously close to the line of sticking my nose into gang business.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “And I don’t care about any of that shit. I just need to get Chloe back. I’ll… I’ll do anything to help my sister.” I lay the envelope of cash I brought on the table in front of Maddoc. “I can pay you.”
It’s everything I could scrape together in a day. Everything I’ve set aside for Chloe’s college and our living expenses. I wasn’t kidding, though. I’ll do anything, and if they need me to come up with more money, I will.
But Maddoc pushes the envelope back toward me like it’s offensive.
“We’re not fucking mercenaries,” he growls. “And I don’t know who the fuck you are, or why you think you can just show up on our turf and try to hire us out to do whatever the fuck you want, but—”
“I do,” Dante drawls, cutting in on Maddoc’s rant.
Maddoc turns to glare at his second, and Dante raps his knuckles on the table and smirks.
“I know who this chick is. Her name is Riley. She dances at Club M. We fucked last night after my meeting with Ruiz.”
Something twists in my stomach at the blunt way he lays it out, like it was just some average, run-of-the-mill, forgettable hookup. I never expected to see him again, but still, his tone pisses me off.
Logan and Maddoc both narrow their eyes, staring at me in a way that makes the hair on my arms stand up.
“That’s a hell of a coincidence,” Maddoc murmurs in a low voice.
“You told her where to find us?” Logan asks Dante, cutting his gaze sideways.
“’Course not.” Dante scoffs, and it pisses me off even more for some reason. Then he turns a speculative eye on me, cocking his head to the side as his fingers start drumming the table again. “Maybe West Point sent her.”
“Fuck you,” I bite out, the same fury that made me want to rip Austin’s eyes out this morning rising up too hot and fast for me to censor it. “I fucking hate West Point. They took—”
My breath hitches, but I power through anyway, blinking back the rage induced tears that burn the back of my eyes.
“They took Chloe. I’d die before I’d do anything for those assholes.”
“And yet you just told us you’d do anything to help your sister,” Maddoc throws back.
“Not that,” I insist in a hard voice. “Never.”
He smirks. “So… you lied.”
“I—”
“You wouldn’t do ‘anything’?”
“No, that’s—”
“You wouldn’t help West Point out if it would get your sister back?” Maddoc leans forward, and I’m not just pissed, I hate him a little bit right now.
I feel more trapped by his burning stare than I did when Musclehead pinned me to the fucking wall outside the club and tried to assault me, but even if Maddoc would let me get a word in edgewise, I can’t tell him to go fuck himself. Can’t punch that cold, suspicious look off his face.
I still need his help.
But if he’s too stubborn to even listen to me, if he won’t help me get Chloe back, then I’ll be back to square one with no other options.
“I’ve got nothing to do with West Point,” I insist. “All I want is—”
