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Maddoc holds up a hand, and my mouth snaps shut, my jaw clenching. He jerks his chin toward an empty booth. “Go wait over there. We need to discuss your proposal.”
I hesitate. I want to stay and fight for this. Fight for Chloe. But just like with every other shitty thing in my life, I don’t really have a choice.
I give Maddoc a stiff nod, then do what he told me to and walk away, taking a seat at the booth he indicated with my heart lodged in my throat.
Please take the deal. Please.
8
MADDOC
I lean backas I watch the girl, Riley, walk away.
This night just took a very unexpected turn.
I make it a point to know what’s going on in my territory, which means there’s no way in hell I should have been caught by surprise twice in less than a week. And the fact that both the shooting and this Riley woman have ties to West Point? Calling that a coincidence seems pretty fucking unlikely, but whether it’s a setup to be avoided or an opportunity to be exploited is yet to be determined.
I narrow my eyes, tracking her movements as she settles into the booth I told her to sit at. Her hair shimmers blue and purple, like a butterfly’s wings, as she shifts it over her shoulder. She’s fucking gorgeous, but in truth, that’s not her most interesting feature. She’s clearly smart enough to know that coming here was a risk, but the way she holds herself—head up and back straight, like she’s got balls of fucking steel tucked away in those tight little pants of hers—tells me she’s not one to let fear stop her.
“She seem overly interested in your meeting with Ruiz last night?” I ask Dante without taking my eyes off her.
“Not even a little bit,” he answers, staring over at her the same way I am.
I blow out a breath through my nose, glancing between my seconds. “Still a hell of a coincidence.”
It’s an invitation for them to share their opinions, and I’m not surprised that right away, I get a disgusted hiss from Logan.
“Coincidence?” he repeats, his angular face set like stone as he glares over at her. “In my experience, there’s no such thing.”
He thinks she’s a honey trap, and the coiled tension in his body promises pain and retribution if his suspicions prove true.
It’s clear he sees her as a threat to us. Neither that belief nor the icy hatred in his eyes comes as a surprise, since it’s not like Logan would trust a woman even under the best of circumstances. And having Riley barge in here just as we were discussing retaliation against West Point? Definitely not what anyone would call the best circumstances.
But just because Logan’s response is predictable doesn’t mean he’s wrong.
Of course, it doesn’t mean he’s right either, and my jaw clenches as I scrub a hand over it.
“Dante?” I prod. “Your thoughts?”
He’s watching Riley with pursed lips and his head cocked to the side. He was quick to say she wasn’t acting suspiciously last night, that she wasn’t overly inquisitive about the meeting with the rep from the 17th Street gang, but the way he hums quietly to himself, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table, tells me he’s replaying whatever went down between them to see if there are any cracks in her story.
“Nah, I don’t think so,” he says after a minute, disputing Logan’s opinion. “I believe her about the sister. I think that’s why she came.”
I nod. The threat of tears paired with all that fiery determination? Yeah, Riley definitely sold the part about the sister. Sold it well enough that I believe her too.
But that still doesn’t make it our problem to fix.
Austin fucking McKenna, on the other hand, is definitely becoming a problem we need to fix, so even if she wasn’t sent by West Point, we’d be fools to ignore any situation he’s involved in.
Dante is clearly thinking along the same lines, because he adds, “West Point’s been giving us a hell of a hard time lately. Everywhere we turn, they’re in the way. How many of our recent deals have they fucked with?”
“Too many,” Logan bites out. “They’re trying to break into our territory. Taunting us. Goading us.”
“But I still think this thing with Riley is something else,” Dante says in a deceptively lazy drawl, heat flashing in his eyes as he glances back over at her.
I don’t necessarily disagree, and I can’t blame him for the heat either… but Logan scowls.
“Quit thinking with your dick,” he snaps. “That’s obviously what McKenna wants here.”
