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Fifteen, maybe twenty people in this place, and we may as well be on our own for the fucks he has to give. "Fine." I slide onto the seat opposite his and rest my forearms on the sticky table. “You even wanna know how the run went?”
His gaze slides to mine, inviting me to continue.
“Volkov knows we got her.”
Tyke’s head rolls back on the seat, both hands covering his face as he groans, rings catching the low light.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for askin’,” I sass.May shake a little from the unused adrenalin, but whatever.
He peers out at me from beneath his hands. “What does he want?”
“Her.”Duh.“I fuckin’ told you she’d turn into a target if people caught drift of what she knows.”
He drops his head forward, brow furrowed deep. “How did Martin find out?”
I roll my lips, wetting them as I glance toward the frat boys: young and ignorant of the horrific bullshit going down in their backyard. “He plied Terry’s housekeeper for information.”
The long exhale out of Tyke’s nose tells me he understands what I don’t say. “Fuck’s sake.” He scrubs a hand over his head. “Startin’ to regret lettin’ the woman speak. Should have made you take Rae home the minute Maddie asked for help.”
“And leave her facin’ this shit on her own?” I snort. “Tell me your conscience could live with that.”
“Ignorance is bliss, brother.” His gaze takes on a faraway quality that sets my gut at unease.
"What happened while I was out?”
"I don't really know to be able to explain it.” He drops a bitter laugh. "That's the fuckin' problem, ain't it?"
"Somethin’ must’ve happened to have you here like this."Not that it could hold a candle to the shit I’ve just seen.I drag a hand over my face and slump against the aged vinyl. "You were fine when we last spoke."
"Was I, though?" He lifts the near-empty whiskey glass at me. "Or was I so damned good at holdin' up that mask that you had no idea?"
Fuck me.This shit again. "Dad chose you for a reason."
"Guilt." Tyke slams the glass on the table. The music around us builds in intensity. "He fucking threw that gavel at me to appease his goddamn conscience.Thatis the only reason why I wear this”—he slaps the President badge over his chest—“and you don't."
“Who gives a fuck where you came from?” He’s banged the same tune on his pity drum for so long, and I never understand why. “What does it matter now?”
There's a moment's silence from him as he regards the frat boys cheering on the pledge, forcing the drunk idiot to downa liter of something unrecognizable. Tyke grows still, fingers tighter on the glass before him with every passing second.
I reach out and remove it from his grip again, with some force, before he cracks the glass.
“I rode out to see Marco because I needed to know if he was the one who wanted to share whattheyknow.”
"You want to start makin' sense?" I need it clear. Straight to the chase. “Is this about that shit you didn’t tell me earlier?”
"Yeah." He reaches for the bottle.
I jerk it toward me and set it on the seat beside myself. "I'm here. I'm listenin’."
"You remember that courier that showed up a while back? The young guy." He waves his hand in front of his face, fingers wiggling. "With the piercings. Minion came close to sticking his gun in the kid's mouth."
Like I could forget that."Still don't know how he got past the gate."
"Harvey let him in." Tyke waves this little fact off as though his son breaking protocol is nothing to bat an eye at.Need to speak to that fuckin' kid."Anyway. The box he had for me was mostly empty. Full of packing peanuts. Only a plain white slip of paper in the bottom. Thick card stock. The type of shit wedding invites are on."
"The point?" I fold my arms.
He huffs out his nose, wrinkling his top lip. “The paper was a bullshit offer on the Plymouth Street lot, which Graves tracked back to Terry.”
