Page 115 of Debt of My Soul

Nothing. Not a word from Wilson.

I shove the phone back in the cabinet and pull on my running clothes. Once down the cabin steps, I take off for the woods, skipping over roots and weaving through trees until I burn.

I push my body while running over the conversation I plan on having with Fleur. I need to tell her who I am, and that soon this life for her will be over. Wrestling through it, I rehearse how I want to tell her that once this is over, I want to be with her, and her, me.

My skin tingles as every brush of her lips caressing me replays in my mind. The thought of never having that again, hearing her laughter, seeing her in my damn hat picking out items at the farmer’s market.

With a conversation mapped out, I head back home.

Fleur stands in the kitchen, freshly showered, making eggs over the stove. I move to her, wrapping my sweaty arms around her middle, and bury my face into the crook of her neck. She smells divine.

“You’re addicting,” I say into her shoulder. With a small peck, I pull away to find her beaming at me.

“You’re one to talk.” Fleur plates me some eggs next to a piece of toast, and we both stand there, leaning against the counter to replenish the calories we lost last night.

The last thing I want to do is ruin our high with a specific conversation, but I never want Fleur to feel like I’m hiding something from her.

“Listen, Fleur. I want to tell you something and—” My phone ringing in my pocket interrupts me. She offers me a smile, before loading our empty dishes into the sink while I pull out my phone.

Darrin.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Warehouse basement, now,” he says, then hangs up.

The fact I’m not just playing house somewhere makes me pause. I need to tell Fleur off compound. I’m so focused onsharing my life with her I didn’t stop to think how speaking so freely here could be dangerous. I’m distracted and it’s showing.

Shaking my head, I round over to where she stands, hands deep in the soapy water.

“D called. I need to shower and head out. Let me take you to dinner tonight.”

She smiles, but it fades too quickly. “You don’t have to, Liam. I don’t expect?—”

“Stop right there. We’re going to dinner,” I growl. What is her hesitancy?

She nods and I turn to the shower.

After I finally leave the cabin and pull open the door to the warehouse, the steady hum of workers bagging product and weighing pickup crates for the dealers echoes off the walls.

Trip and Goff walk around, inspecting, both of them sporting dark circles under their eyes from a late night last night. Goff’s hands shake and I know he’s fighting getting a fix until this meeting Darrin called is over.

“Hey,” Trip calls out. I lift my hand in a wave and move toward them.

“What’s going on this morning, guys?”

“D-Darrin’s got something big,” Goff says.

I narrow my eyes. “Did he tell you what?”

Trip shakes his head, pointing to the basement door. “Gotta go find out.”

The basement is not somewhere D likes to host meetings. If it’s establishment business or just partying to have a good time, we’re at the clubhouse. Product meetings for our dealers or off-loading trucks, that’s done at the warehouses. But the nasty shit, that’s what happens down below.

Smooth concrete turns into rough, pebbled cement on the stairs. Small lights hang every so many feet down and they’re all on, meaning a few of the guys are already here. Trip leads whileGoff and I follow, the short ceiling brushing against the top of my head.

Uncomfortably small, the stairs narrow into a straight hallway that bends to the right at the end. More lights flood out from the opening and when I turn the corner, my stomach bottoms out.

I stiffen, my mouth suddenly dry but threatened by the instant nausea tossing about.

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