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Sam: Where are you?
Tyson: At your place
Don't tell anyone
I don’t want anyone to know
My brow furrowed. I found it really unlikely that I’d get out of here without telling anybody, but I could understand why Tyson didn’t want to share. It was probably really upsetting for him to break a seven-year streak. Biting my lip, I considered texting Clink for help, but he was busy with the crew and he said he wouldn’t be back until after dinner. I didn’t think Tyson could wait that long, so I sent him a text that I was on my way and tucked my phone back in my pocket, heading downstairs to see who I could talk to about this.
The house was pretty quiet when I got downstairs. None of the old ladies were around. I knew Riley was still helping some of the guys who got hurt, but I didn't know where Quinn or Allie were. And none of the guys I knew were close by. The only one who was in the kitchen, washing the dishes, was the prospect who I’d punched in the face that one time.
I grimaced as I approached him. We hadn’t been in the same room since that day, but I wasn’t surprised at the side eye he cast me. I wasn’t any more comfortable talking to him than he was with me, but I didn't know where anyone was.
“Have you seen Clink?”
He cast me a look, his lip going up. “Not supposed to be talkin’ to you.”
More than one person had mentioned that the prospects weren’t supposed to talk to us, but I’ve talked to a few when they were helping me with the wiring. Not him, though. He was avoiding me and until now, it suited me just fine.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just… I need a ride. To work. I, uh… lost my drill bit. I need another one.”
It was a plausible answer, and he seemed to believe me, but he didn’t look like he wanted to help me. He looked around, a deep frown on his face. “You gotta wait until they get back.”
Tyson said he couldn’t wait or I would’ve been happy to listen. But he needed me, and I wasn’t sure when anyone was going to be back.
“Listen, that’s… that’s not going to work for me. I need that bit so I can get my work done. I’m not going to get on Croy’s bad side by sitting on my hands all day. And my work closes eventually. I need to get there before they do or I’ll have to wait longer to get any work done.”
He scoffed, crossing his arms. “And I ain’t gettin’ into trouble by giving you a ride. I’m not supposed to talk to you. I got shit to do. You wanna get into trouble, go by yourself. I ain’t your keeper.”
My eyebrows jumped up. I thought if I tried to leave that someone would stop me. It never occurred to me that staying here had been a suggestion. The prospect turned his back on me, clearly done being seen talking to me. I took a few steps back, wondering if he was going to change his mind, but I made it all the way to the front door without him saying anything. Shrugging, I stepped outside, heading for my truck. There were a few guys standing around outside, but I kept my chin up, moving with a purpose. If I looked busy, they wouldn’t stop me.
One of them approached right after I shut my door. He knocked on the window, a confused look on his face. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I lost a tool. I’m going to pop into work quick to grab another one. It shouldn’t take long.”
He shook his head slowly. “You’re not supposed to go anywhere.”
I sighed. “I’m not a prisoner. You’re welcome to join me, but I really need to go. If I don’t hurry, they’ll close up the shop and I’ll be shit out of luck.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but I gave him an exasperated look and he grimaced. “Yeah, alright. I’ll go with you. We gotta make this quick, though. Pretty sure Clink will kick my ass if he knows I brought his old lady out.”
As he climbed into the passenger seat, I bit my lip. I’d need some kind of excuse to ditch him once I got to work. Maybe I could slip out the back while he wasn’t paying attention. My apartment wasn’t far from my work. I could take a few alleys to get there and find Tyson. Hopefully, I’d be able to convince him to come back with me.
* * *
The guy who joined me spent most of the ride on his phone, a deep frown on his face. He didn’t seem interested in talking and I wasn’t going to push him. I was too busy running through the plan in my head. My palms were sweating and I couldn’t stop chewing on my bottom lip. I’d never done anything so outright deceitful since I snuck out to go to that party when I was in high school. I didn’t like it and I considered more than once turning around and heading back. Only Tyson’s desperate messages kept me moving forward, and I pulled up at work not long later.
“Okay, it should just be a few minutes. You can wait here. I’ll be right back.”
I didn’t wait around for him to answer me, jumping out of the truck and hustling inside. My stomach was churning from the nerves and I flashed a smile at Brian, who was manning the front desk. He looked confused, but I just waved at him, ducking through the back hallway into the stockroom, making a beeline for the back door. I kept expecting the guy to pop up and stop me, but I got up and over the fence in the back without any issues.
My heart was pounding as I snuck through the alleys towards home. I wasn’t sure why Tyson would want to go back to my apartment instead of his, but maybe it was closer. I’d ask when I saw him.
I finally breathed a sigh of relief when I stepped out onto the street that my apartment was on. No one but Clink knew where I lived, so the guy who came with me probably wouldn’t be able to find me. I would go get Tyson, head back, and tell him I took a phone call or something and met Tyson around back to explain why I took so long.
Tyson had a key to my place, so I wasn’t surprised he wasn’t out front. I made my way to the front door, glad there wasn’t a lock, so he didn't have to come out to meet me. My keys were still in the truck. My hand wrapped around the handle, and I just barely had time to register the hot metal against my skin when something hit me in the back of my head. Pain flashed down my neck and my vision collapsed inward as I crumpled to the ground. The last thing I thought before I lost consciousness was that I'm an idiot.
CHAPTER 37
