Page 92 of Hell or High Water

“When did you meet him? How?”

I shrugged. “Um…I don’t know the exact date. Mom was really sick. It was near the end, right before the holidays. I’d missed a lot of school, and Mallory had been bringing me my work. One evening, she brought it and convinced me to get out of the house. Go have dinner with her and her brother. He had a friend in town, and she’d be bored, listening to them talk. She wanted to catch up with me. Wayon was the friend.”

He’d been nice. Asked me questions, seemed interested in my life. He’d made me laugh, telling me old stories about Mallory having a crush on him when she had been in middle school and the things she’d done to get his attention.

“Was that the only time you saw him?” Than pressed like the answer was life or death.

This was so weird.

I started to nod, then stopped. “Oh, wait, um, he came to my momma’s funeral with Mallory and Pax. I was a mess, and that day was hazy for me, but I think he even had flowers delivered to her grave. It was really thoughtful, seeing as I barely knew him. But that’s it.”

Than threw his phone on the dash and pulled back onto the road, turning around and going back the way we had come.

“Where are we going?” I asked, confused.

We’d not even made it to the first stop he had to make.

“Linc’s.”

“Why?”

He was still clenching his jaw. In fact, his entire body was tense. Like he was buzzing with…anger.

Was this all over Wayon? And why would Linc care?

“Because,” he said with a growl to his tone, “Wayon Davidson is the son of the leader of the Louisiana branch of the Southern Mafia.”

My eyes went wide. Had he just said Mafia?

“What?” I asked incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. A Mafia? In the South? And you think Wayon is a part of it? Than—”

“Yes, Six. A Mafia in the South. One that has a branch in every Southern state. They control who sits in office, they own cities, their power reaches throughout everything below the Mason–Dixon line. And, in some cases, stretches as far as Washington, DC.”

He was serious. He believed this. Did he think Wayon was who had been leaving me notes? That was ridiculous. I barely knew the guy, but he was a nice person. He was engaged to be married. He was probably married by now.

I crossed my arms over my chest as I stared at him. “Than, this Mafia in the South is probably an old tale. One that gives people something to gossip about.”

His head turned to me, but only for a second. “It’s not a tale. And I know that because my family has been a part of the Mississippi branch since 1928. And Linc is the leader of our branch. We put Baskin’s sorry ass in office because if we kept his reputation clean, then he’d make sure to overlook some of our…illegal dealings.”

My hands fell to my lap as I stared at him. Waiting for him to laugh and tell me he was joking. But he wasn’t going to. He was serious, and suddenly, everything that had happened since the day he and Linc had come to pick me up at the motel made sense.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

Than sighed. “You said he got into the house you were staying at and left the letter. Well, we’re trained from an early age to move undetected, get into places we don’t have access to, and disarm security systems.” He glanced at me. “And cameras.”

“Oh my God.” The words fell from my lips again.

Than was a criminal.

“But…he’s married,” I said. “Wayon. He was engaged.”

Than shook his head. “Not anymore. He broke it off days before the wedding for reasons unknown and left town for two weeks.”

I sank back into the seat as my head began to spin. Things that I didn’t understand clicked into place. And one shock led to another. Disbelief, horror, but even then the regret didn’t come. I’d never regret Than. Not even after finding out that he was a member of organized crime. He still had taken a piece of my soul and made it his own.

Forty-Three

Than

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