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I slump into the office chair, knowing how bad it is for my posture, but to hell with it. Today is not the day to worry about who the fuck I want to be.
The ceiling needs painting I observe as I lean my neck on the back of the chair and tilt my head up. I blink my tears away as I think about my father. He knows people, some are criminals, but the high-end kind. He wouldn’t lower himself to associate with the Blackbeards. Would he?
I pick up the phone to call him when Wendy stalks in like a viper about to strike. She’s stopped smoking again and I’m not sure I can handle her moodiness right now.
“Sorry, I’m late. I ran into some buddies of yours,” she rasps.
My heart sinks. Her tone of voice suggests anything but. “Friends?” Maybe the Blackbeards cornered her too.
“Yeah.” She rounds the desk, elbowing me out of the chair, and thumping her body into it. “A couple of guys in suits. They said they were DEA. They wanted to share their concerns about who you were consorting with. They were very persuasive. Bought me lunch and everything.”
Her explanation is so unexpected, I grope for words. “What? Lunch?”
She smirks at my discomposure. “Yeah. They suggested that you needed to be kept safe from Hell’s Jury and thought I’d be a good inside person to report back on activities.”
My heart sinks. “Are you sure it was DEA?” I know Hell’s Jury is involved in criminal activities, but I didn’t think their world would impact mine in any significant way.
“Oh yeah. They had badges and everything.”
“This is ridiculous,” I fume. “First the Blackbeards. Then the cops. They must all be in this together.”
“Doubtful,” Wendy says, reaching for cigarettes that aren’t there. “These guys were acting alone.” She stops as she realizes what I’ve said. “What do you mean, Blackbeards and cops?”
“We’ll talk about that later. Right now, I want to know what’s going on with you and the DEA agents.”
Wendy doesn’t like to be told what to do anymore than I do, but she seems to sense my stress. “They were concerned about your well-being; didn’t think they should approach you directly because of you living with Trigger.” She chews at her thumbnail, then looks at it. “I was intrigued. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy working at the clinic, but it’s minimum wage and I could use the extra cash.”
I get defensive. “It’s slow for now, Wendy! When things pick up, I’ll pay you more.”
“I know. I’m bored too. This seems like fun.”
“It’s not fun. It’s suicide! If Hell’s Jury find out what you’re doing, they’ll kill you.” I’m shaking now. “And Trigger will leave me. They might kill me.”
She sits straighter in the chair. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t fuck this up. I drove a hard bargain; told them that I’d think it over. Asked what kind of money they were talking about.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope that she hands to me. “Two grand. As a sign-up fee.”
“You agreed?” I’m in shock as I rifle through the bills.
“Took me a while to be convinced, but yeah, I decided to do it.”
This time I can’t control the tears that slip out of my eyes. “Wendy, are you nuts?” I’m on the edge of hysteria. “I love Trigger. I can’t betray him, and I can’t let you do it, either. I don’t want you to die.”
“Cut out the theatrics,” she replies crossly. “What makes you think I’m going to betray him or his motorcycle boys? The DEA are looking for a way inside. They think I’m it. Your boyfriend and his club can feed information through me.” She grins like a barn cat. “Like I said, I was getting bored, and I can use the cash.”
“It’s dangerous.” My tears have stopped and I’m sort of off the edge of the cliff, but I’m still shaking inside. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“I thought I knew you better than that. You’re not spineless and I have no intentions of dying. I need an adventure and this one dropped into my lap.” Her eyes light up. “So let’s get subterfugeing.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY
Trigger
Joker, Reaper and I are sitting outside at the picnic table with beers in our hands, planning our strategy on how to let the prez know that Dino is dead through our neglect. He won’t like what happened because I think he wanted to give him back to Crip, but he’ll let it go. The problem is we didn’t get any goddamn information out of the dead fucker and that’s gonna turn Hangman into a raging lunatic.
“I say we blame it on Trigger,” Reaper says with an uncharacteristic grin. He’s not a teaser, at least not sober, but he’s finding something funny about the situation.
“Fuck off, asshole,” I tell him, my sense of humour pretty much exhausted. “Last time I saw Dino, he was in your custody.”
Joker takes a swallow of his beer, staring past us to the high chain link fence that surrounds our property. He looks like he’s thinking about going over the wall. “We gotta rip the band aid off, guys. Tell him we fucked up. Decide what we’re gonna do with the corpse and move on.”
