Page 17 of Ruthless Reign

Toby

Not your fault, babe. Just stay safe, k?

“Silence that,” Hardin said from the front seat. “We’re almost there.”

I did as he said, my shoulders drawing in as a chill crept up my back and something tightened in my core.

You’ll be safe in the car, Becks. Woman the fuck up.

I swallowed, wishing I had a little bottle of Crown in my purse. I could use a sip of liquid courage right about now.

Ahead, a sparse strip of shops shut for the evening squatted along an all but deserted road in a nameless town on the outskirts of Lancaster. Kaleb turned down a side street, pulling around to the back lot of a single level pub called Gilligan’s Finch. Even though the area seemed absolutely dead from the front-facing street view, this parking lot was almost full.

Kaleb parked in one of the only open spots—directly across from the rusted exit door.

Hardin looked at something on his phone. “Zade’s already here.”

Kaleb nodded and turned in his seat to face me. “Not one toe,” he reminded me. “Stay in the car no matter what you hear.”

My lips parted. “What the fuck am I going to hear?”

“Vixen, just promise me you’ll stay here.”

Hardin pinched the bridge of his nose and his nostrils flared. I knew exactly what he would say if he deigned to speak. I told you we shouldn’t have brought her.

I sat up straighter.

“You shouldn’t hear anything. We’ll be in and out. Maybe ten minutes.”

“Five,” Hardin corrected, and I could tell by his tone there would be no sweet talking or reassurances to the Kents, not from him. At least, not with me waiting outside.

I settled down in my seat, making a show of getting comfortable. “Well, what are you waiting for?” I asked. “Isn’t what’s his face waiting for you?”

Hardin got out first, slamming the door behind him. Kaleb paused and even though I could feel his eyes on me, I didn’t look up. Pretended to be busy on my phone instead. I didn’t relax until his door shut behind him. Only then did I look up through the tinted windshield to see Kaleb follow Hardin across the span of open lot and through the door.

Five minutes.

I could do five minutes.

I sunk lower in the seat, peering around the lot for signs of life. That was what Hardin would do, right? Make sure there was no one lurking in the shadows. No one watching. Satisfied when I didn’t find any signs of life, I shook my head at my own paranoia and checked my messages again. Nothing new, but there were several left unanswered from my Dad. One from Ava Jade asking if things were okay up this way that I truthfully didn’t know how to answer yet. And one from my boss, Adam from Death Before Decaf wondering if I need my shifts covered for the rest of the week.

If I weren’t associated with the Saints, I knew I’d be fired by now. Any regular staff member would’ve been. Even Toby, and he was very clearly the customer favorite.

Guilt ate at me. For bringing them into this. For making them cover my shifts at DBD. Guilt on top of guilt on top of guilt. I’d barely unpacked everything that happened in Thorn Valley yet, regardless of the fact that my girl Ava Jade forgave me for the part I played there. Now here I was, fucking up other people’s lives just by existing.

Kaleb was right. I’d need to stay away from my roommates. And I should stay far away from Death Before Decaf, too, even if the lack of espresso with perfect crema and micro foamed milk might kill me.

I’d been so busy in my own damn head that the sound of a car door slamming had me dropping my phone. I bent over to retrieve it, staying low to not be seen.

“It’s probably one of the Kents,” I mouthed to myself in the dark, lifting my head just enough to peek out the rear left window. A black Lincoln idled at the edge of the lot, near the entrance. Blocking it, actually. The shadow of a driver remained in the front seat, but two others stood outside the vehicle. One of them turned and I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand when I realized the window was still open a crack from the drive.

They didn’t look.

They didn’t hear me.

I didn’t recognize either of them, and though I couldn’t name the type of guns they carried even if one were held to my head, I knew the kind of damage they could do. With long barrels, sharp angled bodies, and straps slung over their shoulders to carry them.

One whistled to the other and they met up in front of the Lincoln. I could tell they were talking, but struggled to make out what they were saying. One jerked his head toward the back door of Gilligan’s Finch and they crossed the lot. Their voices became clearer as they passed in front of the car.

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