Page 33 of I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

“I fucked your brother. Twice. And didn’t tell you.” She drops her head in her hands. “Jesus, why am I such a slut?”

“Yo!” I slap her upside the head. “You are not a slut. We both know Nicky’s always been special to you. And I’ve seen him in action, so I know how smooth he can be. No offense babe, but you probably didn’t stand much of a chance.”

She forces out a laugh as she continues to wipe at her face, her tears streaking her black mascara. “Yeah, well, maybe the first time we can put on him. But when he came knocking the second time and I let him have a repeat knowing what he’s about? That was on me. I’m so stupid.”

“Daph,” I rub her back, “you ever stop to consider that maybe Nicky actually likes you?”

She scoffs, shaking her head furiously. “No, no way. Nicky has been very clear that this is not, nor will it ever, be a thing.”

“And yet, he’s snuck in your room twice now. One of which was fueled by jealousy.”

“Jealousy is a bit much. Nicky wants what he wants when he wants it. He just needed to fuck me out of his system,” she sniffs, using the cuff of her hoodie to wipe the smeared makeup from her eyes.

Though my brother’s sexual escapades would support her claims, I can’t help feeling that is not the case for him when it comes to her. Nicky cut a business trip short to come home because some guy touched Daph’s ass? Yeah, that most certainly is not my ‘give no fucks’ brother’s MO.

“Anyway.” She takes a deep breath, shaking out her hands as she exhales. When she turns to face me again, she’s the perfect picture of composure. “Moving on. You. Big Bad Bishop.” She pins me with a glare. “Spill.”

“That’s complicated,” I groan.

She barks out a laugh. “Oh no, baby. You are so far past complicated with that one. You are downright fucked.”

“Who you telling?!” I playfully shove her to the side. We snicker as she pops back up, bringing her head to rest on my shoulder.

“Jonsie, in all seriousness though… you know there’s only two ways that ends, right? Bad or worse.”

The air stills between us, with only the sounds of our breathing filling the space.

“Daph,” I resign at last on a sigh, “I think you’re being optimistic with those outcomes.”

CHAPTER 18

MAV

“What you got for me?” I enter the war room that’s hidden away in the basement of the Cathedral. Though I conduct most business out of my office upstairs, the war room is where we meet as a unit to discuss main plans of attack or when I have to address the Rebels as a whole, outside of the core leadership circle.

Today however, I’m meeting Bent down here because I don’t want to risk anyone else walking in on what we’re discussing. I haven’t brought T and Finn in on this yet, and I don’t know if I’ll need to. I guess that depends on what Bentley finds, and if the resulting fallout will mean war. In which case, we’re in the right fucking place.

Bent’s positioned down at the far end of the table. He stands up as I approach, fanning the papers out in front of him on the sturdy knotted mahogany. It’s massive, spanning twenty feet long, stained so dark it’s almost black, with the Rebel brand hand-carved in the center.

“So,” he begins, “everything she told you seems to check out for the most part. Her car was totaled that night. Nick even had him do it in the spot where the ambulance picked her up just in case people started looking for inconsistencies. Six people did go missing that night, though one of them was recovered in the house fire.”

“The owner?” I ask, considering it would tie up loose ends nicely. It’s what I would have done.

Bent nods, sifting through the papers until he comes across a coroner’s report, complete with pictures. I stare down at the image of the charred body and a sick sense of satisfaction pulses through me.

“The rest,” he continues, “were never found.” He places more images in front of me, assigning names as he goes. “David Landers, age twenty-two. Lucas Frost, age twenty. Billy Rink, age twenty-five. Kellan Trusler, age twenty-two. Randy Kessler, age eighteen. Randy actually was just some unlucky dude who wandered his way into the wrong place at the wrong fucking time. However, he left the party like a bat out of hell after that without telling anyone what was happening in that basement.”

“Then fuck him,” I spit, flinging his picture off to the side. “He got what he deserved. I hope Nicky made it hurt.” How the fuck any self-respecting man can walk in on a woman being abused in any capacity and not help her is mind blowing to me. Pathetic waste of space.

“Mav,” he says before taking a breath, “you sure you wanna hear the rest?”

I glance to him, my stomach so tight in knots I could puke. No, I don’t want to hear any of this shit. I don’t want a play-by-play of how my girl was violated and left for fucking dead. But I need to hear it. I need to ensure vengeance was served. So, I swallow all that shit down and offer him a firm nod.

Bent stares at me for a beat before he submits. “Okay.” I watch as he slips into his element, and I’m reminded in this moment why he’s my second. “Here we go.” He spins to face the giant steal magnetic board positioned on the wall behind us, slapping one of the images up on display. “This douche,” he points to the low life, “is Billy Rink. Has a history of priors consisting of mainly possession of narcotics charges. A couple B&E’s. Nothing heavy that warranted any real time. He’s most likely the one that spiked her drink.”

“How do you know that?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest as I lean back against the edge of the table.

“Because Billy’s gay, so process of elimination when considering the roles involved…”

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