Page 107 of Arran's Obsession

“No colours. Just delivering food, like I said,” Jamieson insisted.

Colours presumably meant gang affiliation. But I’d got stuck on what the man had said.Four Milers.That was who my dad had been associated with, according to Arran. My pulse skipped a beat. He was right there in front of me, and there was no reason not to ask.

I stepped to one side so I could see the man more clearly. “Hey, do you know Sydney?”

“Who’s asking?” He squinted at me.

“Adam Walker’s daughter.”

“That so? Don’s girl as well, ain’t that right?”

I stared, horrified.

The man continued, “How’s your old man getting on with his job?”

Across the road, a door opened in another seemingly abandoned house. A man stepped out. A second followed, his hand going into his jacket.

Both had balaclavas hiding their faces, and a spiderweb tattoo crawled over the first’s arm.

“Four Milers, three, armed,” Jamieson said low, touching his ear.

Tyres squealed from the way we’d come.

I caught my breath. Earlier, Arran had kept an open line between our cars, but I assumed that was only to have the conversation about Cassie. Of course they’d connected up again before this last drop.

As he spoke, the three men flinched, their focus skipping up the road. Horror took over my bravery. Jamieson had kids. If he faced off against members of a drug-dealing gang and got hurt, it was my fault. What had I done?

“Move.” He spun around and tucked me under his arm, body blocking me across the pavement to his grey car.

Once I was in, he jogged to the other side, right as Arran’s then Shade’s cars tore down the street and halted just ahead of ours, blocking the road. Jamieson gunned our engine and spoke into his phone.

“I’ll get her out of here. Stay alive.”

He reversed from the space into the street, keeping on going backwards, the road too narrow to turn.

I dragged my gaze from Arran’s car to him. “Wait, what just happened?”

“Their suspicions changed into a threat. If we didn’t run, they’d have questioned us.”

“Where’s Arran? Why isn’t he following?”

Peering between the rearview and the side mirrors, Jamieson picked up speed. “Giving us space to leave safely.”

Misery swarmed me. “I only wanted to ask about my dad. Fuck. Arran’s going to be hurt.”

In the dark interior of the car, his friend chuffed a laugh. “I know things between ye are pretty new, but trust that he can handle shite like this. Gang warfare is his bag. He wrote the book on how it goes down in Deadwater.”

I stared into the shadowy road, centred on Arran’s red taillights. Anything could happen. Just because he’d fought for his place in this world didn’t mean he’d walk away now.

What if the whole gang emerged with weapons and set upon him? I couldn’t believe the drop-off had been a trap, surely not, but he’d told me exactly how big an issue it was for him to go down there. I’d left him amongst messed-up criminals with a liking for violence.

He could be killed.

“We have to go back,” I spluttered, but even as I said the words, I knew how ridiculous they sounded.

Jamieson made an off noise. “He’ll hang me by my balls. I’m taking ye to the warehouse. Arran will let us know when they’re away.”

I hunkered down, my thoughts spiralling in all directions and the city flashing by without my noticing. My phone dinged, and I snatched it up only to find a timeout message from my food delivery app. I logged out in dismay. Let Jon fire me. So long as I got Arran back in one piece, I didn’t care.

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