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His teeth grind and his jaw pops in irritation.
“Says fucking who? You? You might want to be in charge of this town but that doesn’t give you the authority to tell me what to do, Reid.”
I stare at him, knowing deep down that he’s right but terrified that taking him with us is the worst possible thing I can do for him right now.
I swore to myself that I would make him my first priority.
Leading him headfirst into this war is not doing that.
Leaving him here and keeping him safe is.
“I don’t give a shit what we’re about to walk into. If she’s there, if she needs me, that’s where I’m going to fucking be.”
“You’ve been sedated for two days, J. You’ve had a fucking blood transfusion.”
“Yeah, and your fucking father has my girl,” he roars back, his chest heaving and his muscles pulled tight with determination.
“What do we know?” Ez asks, attempting to break the tension as the two of us stand off against each other.
“Not a lot. She’s going to call back. But we need to move.”
“Then let’s fucking go,” JD announces before spinning on his heels and rushing from the room.
His heavy footsteps thunder up the stairs a second later as I assume he goes to get dressed.
“Fuck,” I breathe, combing my fingers through my hair.
“He needs to stay here,” Ezra says helpfully.
Looking over, our eyes lock and hold for a beat.
His lips part, but no words spill free. Instead, he nods.
He knows as well as I do that aside from locking him in the basement, we’re not going to stop him right now.
“Call the others, tell them to drop whatever they’re doing and get to the location I send them.”
“On it, boss,” Ez agrees before pulling his cell out. “Are we calling anyone else?”
“I don’t fucking trust anyone else,” I seethe.
“No, I know. But…” His argument trails off when I continue to glare at him. “We got this,” he finally agrees before marching out of my office with his phone pinned to his ear. “Get your fucking ass out of bed, Bro. Reid’s found them.”
Something explodes within me at his words.
I want it to be relief, but there is nothing but dread.
JD is right. We’ve no idea what we’re about to find at the other end of this. But if that photo Victor sent is anything to go by, then it’s not going to be pretty.
Admitting defeat, I grab a bag and stuff as many weapons in as I can, including JD’s preferred piece, and throw it over my shoulder.
By the time I join Ez in the hallway, JD is rushing back down the stairs.
He looks fucking awful.
He’s pale, with dark circles around his haunted eyes. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions, and his shirt is wrinkled. He looks nothing like the Hawks’ foot soldier that he is. He doesn’t look deadly, or scary, someone that our enemies or customers should be intimidated by. He looks like he needs them to give him a hug.
“You don’t have to do this,” I assure him, trying to push aside the growing concern within me for what’s happening to Alana and Mav to focus on him.
