Long Way Home

I do and we weave past the filled tanks to the supply area. To the left I spot a few frogs. “Do they own this place?”

“Yep. Skull loves fish. Sometimes he’ll come in and just sit and stare at them and not say a word to anyone.”

Creepy, but whatever floats his boat.

She knocks on a door and after a gruff “Come in” she opens it and waves her arm for me to walk in. Justin sits in one of the chairs in front of the desk, and from behind the desk, Skull’s working on a computer.

“Hey!” Justin smiles like we’re old friends. “Have a seat. Dad and I were just talking business.”

Who to kill next? How they should break into my house next time? “Okay.”

“Thanks, Cindy.” Justin winks. “Close the door behind you when you leave and make sure we’re not bothered for a bit.”

She sort of does this weird bustle of happiness at his attention and shuts the door with Broadway flare.

Justin stands and he takes out some sort of device. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got to sweep you for bugs.”

“Paranoid much?” I say.

“Well, you did talk to the police. Arms out, please. This won’t take but a second.”

“To be fair, I only talked to the police because you kidnapped me.” I work hard to keep my breathing steady even though my pulse pounds in my ears. Justin slowly moves his black device up and around my body.

Jake Barlow explained this would happen and that this is why we were recording only and not transmitting the conversation live for the detective to hear. He said the Riot would be searching for radio waves or something like that.

“Talking to the police, being around the police,” I continue even though I’m aware if I’m busted these might be my last words. “Those things sort of happen when you take someone against their will.”

“She’s clean,” he says to his father, then back to me. “Yeah, I see your point. As a side note, we’re going to need you to recant your statement from the police, refuse to testify, something like that. Try to convince your boyfriend to do the same. We’re going to do some work from our side, but we need those charges on our guys dropped.”

My fingers curl because I want to kill him. “I thought you said they were going against your orders and deserved jail.”

“They were, but they’ve served some time in lockup, since they weren’t granted bail, and they are now ready to accept responsibility for their actions and have agreed not to disobey.”

“Disobey, like not point a gun and shoot it at me.”

“Like that. Why don’t you take a seat? I’ve heard you’ve had a rough time with your knee.”

Yep, and it’ll hurt some more if I kick the crap out of him. “You know you’re going to hell, right?”

“Sure do. By the way, it’s not healthy to hold grudges.”

I drop into the seat and move my wrist so that the recording device is pointed in their direction. The office looks like any other office. It’s not formal and warm like my father’s, but it’s full of papers and stacks of folders and boxes. There are calendars on the wall and used coffee cups on the desk and many, many crumbs of something eaten hopefully recently.

“Sorry for the delay, I just finished paying an invoice and now I’ve got to finish this order. What type of fish do you like, Violet?” Skull asks while he keeps his eyes peeled to the screen. “Maybe we can stock it in your honor.”

“Personally, I like mine deep fried and with ketchup.”

They both laugh. I wasn’t lying.

“Don’t you have people who do this type of stuff? Order, pay invoices, launder money?”

Skull laughs hard enough that I earned myself a glance from him. “I have people who do things for me, but there are some things I like to do myself. Like with my fish.”

A click of a button and I gain his entire attention. “And Eli. He’s someone I don’t like leaving to other people to attend to. He’s hurt me and my family. So tell, do you have my account numbers?”

CHEVY

WAITING—NOT A VIRTUE. Feels a lot like having my balls slowly cut away from my body. The only solace I have is that the detective who sits in the chair next to me looks just as happy as I am to be left behind. His radio is on, and so far, it’s silent.

Violet went in and now we can do nothing other than wait for her to leave.

Waiting.

Damn, I hate that word.

Violet has at least two police tails in the area. I’m hoping there’s more. As expected, the Riot have people hanging out, too. Oz and Razor have made them. The police have figured out a few, not all of the Riot involved, but as long as everyone continues to play nice, we’ve decided to keep quiet. If we tell, the police will learn I’ve got two unknown people on Violet’s team.

In the police’s defense, the Riot aren’t wearing their cuts, but I’m disappointed. The Riot watching the store are big names and we know them by face and road name in order to stay safe. I’d think the police would have done their homework, especially with Violet’s life on the line.

My cell buzzes and I expect it to be another text from either Oz or Razor asking if I’ve heard anything. The two of them are sitting at an outside table at a restaurant a few doors down from the fish store.

It’s from Oz and it’s a pic of Razor. I grunt-laugh because the kid is wearing a baseball cap, a polo shirt with a collar and Dockers. He’s playing Halloween dress-up as a frat-boy preppie to throw off the Riot. Gotta admit, Razor looks like a stranger to me—except for the eyes.