Page 214 of Overcast

She shakes her head, relieving me somewhat, but I won’t be fully relieved until she’s out of here. Then something else dawns on me that should have the moment he said his name.

Montgomery.

Mayor Holden Montgomery.

“You happen to be related to that old prick that got put in jail for embezzlement and solicitation of prostitution?” I don’t turn to look at him, keeping my eyes locked on Stormi’s blues.

The only thing keeping me grounded, and it shouldn’t.

Relying on her is dangerous; however, that’s all I’ve been doing. I never understood how people became dependent on others. Children, yes, but grown-ass adults? Our fully-developed emotions get the best of us, and we don’t forget shit.

I’ll never be able to dismiss Stormi from my head no matter who attempts to come in and take her place. I’ll never admit it to anyone else, but she has me fucked up and trapped in the palm of her hand.

“I am,” Eli replies. “And all it took was one text message for you to believe that once he was found dead in his cell, that this was over. Except while he’s been in jail, I’ve been overlooking his plans. I’ve been making things move.”

“Did you kill him too?”

“For what,” he sneers, giving away the first sign of emotion. Clearly, he’s pissed that Wade got his father rightfully locked up, but—I mean—Holden stole money from Bridgeport what the hell did they think was going to happen when he got caught?

“You still haven’t answered my question—” I turn, meeting his knitted brows and pinched eyes. “—what the fuck do you want?”

“I want Wade Lockwood.”

I shrug. “Okay. What does that have to do with any of us?” I cock my head to the side. “Don’t tell me you used the old lure trick. You’re telling me you couldn’t grab one person?”

Eli’s jaw twitches, his tongue pushing out his right cheek. “You killed Bianca, didn’t you?”

The light bulb goes off in my head. The “You took from me, now I take from you” bullshit. Which means that little Eli over here can’t handle a real woman and has to take the desperate ones who stay for money, drugs, or sex.

“I did,” I acknowledge. “You could’ve done better. She was fucking the dude you and your pops sent to kill my sister. So I have a bigger vendetta on you than the other way around.”

“I don’t think so,” he rebuffs, raising his chin. “My cousin was in that crossfire when they tried to obtain Stormi the first time.”

“Didn’t ask for names or reasons. Why were you trying to take her?”

“I thought it was Bianca—” He steers his eyes to Stormi. “—the resemblance is amazing.”

Yeah, no shit.

“Too bad you landed on the wrong foot with that one. Kidnapping isn’t a love letter or sign of expression. So, let her go.”

“You did,” he emits. “Then you let her free.”

“She doesn’t like me,” I lie.

“Looked pretty heartbroken when I found her.”

I’m sure she did.

If it matched anything that I was feeling over the course of two weeks, Stormi is probably getting to the point where she wants to shove something up her nose and scramble her brains around, so it doesn’t hurt as much.

The sound of movement grabs my attention, two more idiots with AKs striding purposely in my direction, and behind them is Reagan, hoisted up in the air like she’s in a Greek wedding.

“Marty,” she breathes, relief flooding her features. “Where is Huck and Wade?”

I shake my head.

I don’t know.

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