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Hakim makes the hand sign to me to take a break. I follow him outside so he can smoke and I can lean against the filthy brick wall, pushing my goggles up on my head and breathing the air that seems cleaner, even tinged with Hakim’s cigarette.
Jasper pulls up in the SUV a moment later. He’s wearing an old bomber jacket with a sheepskin collar. The effect is a little disturbing with his skeletal hands and neck—like he went down in flames in World War Two, and now he’s back to haunt us.
He hauls several duffle bags out of the trunk, bringing them around to us.
“What’s all that?” I ask.
“Supplies,” Jasper says, as if it’s obvious.
I didn’t know we were getting another shipment. I help him take the bags inside, unzipping them to check the contents.
It’s a fuck ton of isosafrole and MDP2P. Way more than we’ve ever gotten at one time before.
I frown at the neatly wrapped packages. “How did you get all this?”
“From Zigor,” Jasper says, looking at me like I’m an idiot. “What do you think?”
My heart is pounding double speed in my chest. I strip off my hazmat suit, flinging it aside.
“Take me back to the house,” I snap. “Now.”
Jaspers drives me back to the Den, his hand pale on the dark wheel. I’m not speaking to him or messing with his music like I usually would. I’m only thinking one thing:Where the fuck is Adrik?
The moment we pull up to the house, I jump out of the car. Jasper follows after me, knowing something is up.
I storm inside, stomping room to room until I find Adrik down in the gym, lifting with Vlad.
“Did you spend every fucking penny of that money?” I shout at him.
Adrik sits up from bench. His black tank sticks to his skin, wet with sweat. He grabs a towel and rubs it down his chest, his muscles swollen and flushed.
“Can you give us a second?” he says to Vlad.
Vlad raises an eyebrow, curious, but he leaves the room without speaking. Jasper stays exactly where he is.
Adrik sets the towel down, standing up from the bench. I forget how much taller he is until he’s looking down at me, his chest an inch from my nose. He’s making me tilt up my chin to look at him. His jaw is stiff, those pale-blue eyes burning with anger. Adrik has a temper, too. Even if he keeps a lid on it, it’s always there, simmering under the surface.
“You want to try that again?” he says quietly.
“Did you spend all the Markovs’ money?” I demand.
“It’s not the Markovs’ money. It’sourmoney. I used it to buy raw materials.”
“All of it?”
“Yes, all of it.”
He’s unashamed and unrepentant.
I’m so fucking furious I’d like to slap him.
“You made me a promise! You said when we were in a better position, we’d keep a reserve—”
“It’s not time yet.”
“Who the FUCK says?” I shout.
“I SAY.” Adrik points his finger in my face. “I do.”
