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Damon and Ames are mostly silent as we drive off the tarmac, down a narrow road leading away from the private airport and through town to catch the freeway.
It isn’t until I’m driving at damn near full speed that Damon tests the waters by asking a question.
“Why is Jerry associating with Scott? Especially after Scott almost killed Brinley with the stunt with your car?”
My teeth grind together. I’d already considered the question on my way to pick him up. Two answers came to mind.
“Either Jerry doesn’t know what Scott’s been up to or he doesn’t care that his daughter is collateral damage.”
“That’s fucked.”
I shrug. “They wanted Brinley away from me. Possibly it’s because Jerry actually cares about her and perceives me as a threat. Or he simply wants her out of the picture so we don’t decrypt the drive first.”
He turns his head to look over at me, the scenery beyond his window a blur for as fast as I’m driving.
“But we have Ames. It’s her brother who’s decrypting the drive.”
“Yeah,” I answer, nodding in agreement. “We also have Taylor. Which is why I’m leaning more on the side of Jerry not knowing what Scott attempted.”
“I still don’t get why they think you’re such a threat. Shouldn’t they be more worried about our fathers or the entire Inferno? Why focus on you?”
Tanner asked a similar question yesterday.
“When Jerry took Brinley, he claimed our fathers were responsible for her mother’s death. That may have something to do with it.”
It’s a shitty response, but Damon appears to accept it.
What I don’t tell Damon is that Jerry wasn’t lying about my crimes. I was involved with, and mostly responsible for, John Bailey’s death.
Nobody in the Inferno knows.
After I realized what my handiwork had led to, the guilt had eaten away at me entirely, the shame I’ve carried since almost too unbearable a weight.
It’s difficult to even look at Luca most days, which is why I try to avoid her.
Tanner was right to bust my nose and lip that night back at Yale when I almost kissed her. I deserved it for what I would end up doing only a few months later.
That night worked out in my favor, though.
From what I’ve heard, Luca thinks I’m the person who took the photos of her when she was drunk.
I wasn’t, but I haven’t told her that. Only because she still keeps her distance from me because of it.
What I don’t understand is how Jerry knows about my involvement with John. And I certainly don’t know shit about what our fathers supposedly did to her mother.
“When did her mom die and how?”
“Car accident,” I answer, “when she was twelve.”
He straightens in his seat and stares at the road for several minutes. “Damn. This has been going on a long time.”
“Yep.”
Unable to say more than that, I reach our exit and take the ramp down into the city.
We arrive at the hotel then make our way up to the room.
Once inside, I pick a bedroom and tell them they have their choice of the other three.
