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“However,” Isaac continued, “Father was immensely pleased with how fast we were able to sell the drugs Hail provided us. As of tonight, the Ravagers are officially aligned with Donovan Hail and his Reaper crew. He’s talking about arranging another drop in a few weeks.”
I nodded to that. At least there wassomegood news.
“And the trial? Michael’s body? Samara?" I repeatedly questioned.
Now it was Rhett’s turn to snort. He poured another drink before choking it back and dropping his glass on the center table.
“The shit with Michael is handled. The guards already covered everything up and his death has been ruled as an accidental drowning. We’re clear as far as that’s concerned.”
“And what about Greyson?” I asked with a slight head tilt.
"Despite his failure, Father wants him to proceed. If he fails the next trial, he's done for. We'll have to cut him loose, permanently."
"And as for Samara," said Isaac. “That’s where things gets really fucking interesting.”
“Something’s going on with him,” inserted Rhett, who was resting his elbows against his knees, steepling his fingers, his eyes locked on mine. “You weren't there, so you didn't see the look on his face when we told him what happened. He looked devastated, Phantom. I-I don't know how else to explain it, but I think he's hiding something from us, and I think it involves Samara.”
“I’m starting to think the same thing,” Isaac agreed. “Father hasn’t been acting like himself since he saw her name on the recruitment list.”
Rhett turned to Isaac then, his eyes flashing in frank surprise. “You noticed it too?”
“I think it’s appropriate to say that we’ve all noticed how off Father has been lately,” I finally spoke.
Any other time I’d have blamed it on stress—that our father’s deceptive as fuck conduct had a more simple explanation behind it. My brothers were right, though. Shit just wasn’t adding up here.
I suspected Father had been hiding something since he’d learned Samara was an Outlaw. He balked when he should’ve acted. Refused to do what had to be done, knowing what was at stake here. If it was anyone else, gender be damned, they’d be fish food.Noifs, ands, or buts.
So, what made Samara Campbell different? Why was he so hell-bent on risking everything over a complete stranger, someone he’d only just met days ago?
Unless she wasn’t a stranger to him…
No, that couldn’t be it, could it?
Did Father know Samara?
Did Samara know him?
“What do we do now?” Rhett asked after a long pause. “I mean, is there anything wecando?”
“We could confront him,” Isaac suggested, “but I think we all know how that’ll turn out.”
“Aside from that,” I pitched in. “What else did he say about her?”
“Nothing really,” Rhett said with an exhausted shrug. “He told us to take her under our wing. To approach hernicelyand persuade her to give us whatever information she’s willing to provide. My feelings for her aren’t a secret to you guys, but like it or not, we doneedher. It’s time we set aside our differences and start working together as a team again. A lot is on the line here.”
Rhett was right. We wouldn’t move past any of this shit if the three of us weren’t on the same page.
My only fear was how many more page flips we’d survive before it all went up in flames again.
Thirty-One
Jace
Finntookaseatbeside me on the sectional in my father’s office, looking as nervous as I felt as we watched my father plunder through his bar to hunt down his top-dollar bourbon. It was Monday afternoon. Two dreadfully long weeks had passed since Father put out the hit on Ginger and the girls and to both mine and Finn’s disbelief, Father had gotten a call stating one of our street crews had some information to deliver. They’d be arriving any minute now.
As the weeks had passed, all Outlaws had stormed almost every inch of the Valley hunting down whatever valuable leads they could salvage. There were no witnesses. Not even an inkling of breadcrumbs were left behind much to my father’s dismay. After all this time, with Ginger’s location still unknown, and the shortage of evidence tying the real culprits to the crime, it was the fear of what this crew possibly could’ve found that had my stomach twisted in knots.
Three loud knocks rapped against the door. With a satisfied smile, Father snatched up his fresh bottle then ambled over to the door, opening it.
