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She takes a beat before saying, “I already told you the answer. Lead the way. We’re out of choices.”
This is the absolute definition of off-the-books, but she’s right. Neither one of us has a choice right now. Not if she wants to get justice for whatever the fuck it is her boss has decided to do.
I’m not sure I lost the tail if we had one in the first place, but we’re only about an hour away from the safe house. I stay off of the highway except for small spans, sticking to back roads where it will be easier to shake someone loose.
We never did catch the asshole who murdered the senator’s son years back, although we know without a doubt it had something to do with the Syndicate. The boy had gone down to the docks to purchase drugs. Might have even been an accident, but the senator went nuts. Rode the PD hard and offered us resources, anything and everything at our disposal as long as we got the fucker responsible.
We failed.
However, I’ve got the address of the safe house memorized. A party house, rather, out by one of the creeks edging a forest in northern New Jersey where the playboy kid and his buddies used to go out to break the law.
As long as it happened on the Senator’s property, no one gave a shit. No one looked into the laundry list of activities whispered about when it came to the boy’s reputation.
Today, we have a damn good chance of finding the place empty.
Aria stayed silent through the drive, which took double the time as normal to make sure we weren’t being followed. Her lips were zipped until we pulled down the gravel road leading to the cabin. A flag lot, I see as we drive, with the cabin located at the very end of the way.
It’s either a lucky turn or it’s fate. I’m going out on a limb and believing the latter.
“Are you sure this is going to be safe for us?” she asks.
“No, I’m not sure at all. But it’s the only place I know.”
What is it about this woman I can't resist? Some kind of forbidden aspect? She’s bad for me, and it makes me want moreof her?
I slam on the brakes when the driveway takes a sharp turn to the left, gravel skidding beneath the tires. Too fast. Up ahead, the one-story cabin swims into view, shaded by tall pines. The lack of sunlight means most of the roof is covered in needles, debris, and moss. The pillars keeping the porch roof erect are a little warped with their paint peeling. Certainly not the image I expect when I connectSenatortocabin in the woods.
“This is a shithole,” Aria adds.
“This is our only option,” I remind her in return, sucking in a sharp inhalation when I move wrong, and my skin pulls around the wound. “So we’re going to have to make the best of it.”
She stares at the cabin door, narrowing her eyes. “Think they have food in there? I mean, what are the chances?”
Food, maybe. Drugs? More than likely. I stay quiet.
“Who does this belong to, Devan?” she presses.
Pocketing the keys again, gun back in my holster and ready for me to access, I walk around the hood of the car and hold open the door for her. Waiting until she’s out before letting it close and offering my hand. “Not something you need to know right now. Needless to say, we’ll be getting cozy until we figure out what the fuck to do.”
“I don’t know how this happened,” she muttered under her breath.
Neither do I.
“The truck wasn’t familiar to me. Did you recognize it?”
“Someone is after us. I didn’t get a good look at the plate number, but I memorized the make. I might be able to get a text to my guy and see if he can run it.”
“Your guy’s got nothing on me.” Her fingers squeeze mine.
The rest of her babble is lost in the slamming of the car door as I stand, staring at the cabin. It doesn't look like anyone has come out here in a long time. Probably not since the kid died, in all honesty.
It’s impossible to see much beyond the cabin with the trees in a uniform line, most of them pine except for a few oak trees. Pine needles turn the boards of the porch spongy. The house looks like it’s never seen the sun in its life, and I have to reach out and grab Aria’s elbow when she loses her balance on one of the steps.
Somewhere out there, a stream babbles loudly enough for us to hear even here.
“You ever wish you could live out in a place like this full-time?” Aria wants to know. “Away from the city, somewhere quiet. Where no one knows your name?”
I keep her close to me, grabbing the doorknob and wiggling. It’s locked, but it shouldn't take much to get inside. “Never,” I admit. “I’m a city kid, born and bred. Moved from Chicago to Jersey before I could walk.”
