Page 83 of Levee

“But it didn’t stop there?”

“I… went to look one more time. The whole place was cleaned up. I guess… someone saw me. Wanted me to stop looking into it.”

“So they attacked you.”

“Yeah. I think it would have been a lot worse if Terrance hadn’t just so happened to pass by at the time and stop him.”

“If you stopped looking into this, why were you attacked tonight?”

“I didn’t exactly stop. I stopped snooping,” I admitted. “But I… I contacted some of Harvey’s friends and family online, mentioned that I hadn’t seen him around. I figured they might look into it for me.”

“Do you have any idea who might have been behind all of this?” I asked.

“Could be anyone,” Uncle Will said. “Lots of bad apples ‘round here.”

“Someone named T, I think, is in charge of the other men. I heard them talking when I was hiding under the bed. I heard Terrance and his friends mention T when I was passing too. But, uh, you showed up before I could ask anything else.”

“T. That gives me something to go on,” I said, nodding.

It wouldn’t be too hard.

In an area socioeconomically depressed as this, if I threw a little cash around, someone would point me in the right direction.

“No, you can’t do that,” Jade insisted, worry etching parallel lines between her brows.

“Think it’s your turn to confess some shit,” Uncle Will said, making Jade’s pretty face scrunch up in confusion.

“What’s he talking about?” she asked.

Guilt nagged at me.

But I reminded myself that we’d both been keeping secrets.

“So I told you about being a member of a biker club,” I started.

“Yeah…” she said, brows pinching. “I’ve been to the clubhouse,” she said as if I could have forgotten.

“I didn’t exactly mention that it was my work too.”

“How?”

“There were different kinds of bikers. Ones who just happen to have a bike. Ones who are in clubs and like to hang out together. And then ones who do it as a job.”

“How can that be a job?”

“For some clubs, it’s drugs, prostitution, enforcement…”

“And your club?” she asked.

“Guns,” I admitted, making her eyes widen.

“Guns? You sell guns? Illegally?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, prepared for her shock or outrage. But not for the laugh that suddenly escaped her.

“What’s funny?”

“I was wondering earlier where I might buy a gun,” she admitted. “Turns out I’ve been sleeping with a dealer and had no idea,” she added, her laugh going a little hysterical.

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