Page 74 of Beautiful Ruins
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, as unconvinced as Rowan had been that morning when he’d trusted me to obey him. Still, relief flashed in Scout’s eyes, a beacon of hope that I hadn’t completely ruined our growing friendship. “Would you blame me if I said I didn’t believe you?”
“Suit yourself,” I said, throwing him a playful wink. I was just glad to have him on my side. “Just think of it as a lesson in surveillance. You’ve been doing such a great job sticking to my arse for the last week. Now you owe me.”
Scout scoffed. “Right, because Rowan gave me a choice. It was either follow you around or clean the clubhouse toilets for the next year.” A breeze swept through the trees, kicking up dust and the scent of motor oil. A shiver raced through him, visible even in the dim light, his gaze flicking back towards his bike like he was contemplating an escape. “Now, I’m seriously questioning my decision. The toilets would have been less painful to deal with.”
I slapped his chest, the lean muscle beneath his shirt tensing under my palm. “Yeah, but that wouldn’t have been as much fun.”
Scout lifted a brow, his expression almost lost under the mop of hair that fell into his eyes. “You call this fun?”
“No,” I said, gripping his hand as my way of saying thank you. It wasn’t enough—not for what I was asking. But it was all I had left to give. “I call this necessary. We have to nail him, Scout. Now, keep a lookout, and text me if we have company.” I forced confidence into my voice, but it landed hollow.
The risk of getting caught was real, but I couldn’t let Scout know how much it gnawed at me. Snake had tried to have Rowan killed. Bear and Scout, too. I was making sure he’d never get another chance. Because if I failed now, I’d lose more than Rowan. I’d lose the only piece of myself I still believed in.
Scout groaned again, his shoulders sagging. “Hurry up before I leave your arse here to deal with Snake yourself.”
We both knew that was a lie but letting him feel like he had the upper hand even for a second was exactly what he needed. Nothing would separate him from what he thought of as his duty, not even the fear I saw plain as day in his blue eyes.
I narrowed my focus on him. “Snake’s locked away, and you know that. Besides, you wouldn’t.”
He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, I don’t trust that slimy prick for a second. And, you don’t know me all that well yet, Sades. Because right now, Iwouldleave you here.” He waved me off with a flick of his wrist. “Now, go.”
I took a step backwards, my boots crunching over the shattered glass of a beer bottle. If I believed in superstition, that would have been my first warning. Too bad for me, warnings were merely a give-way sign where a stop sign should have been.
With a final nod at Scout, I took off down the sidewalk and around the back of Snake’s house, adrenaline fuelling my movements. I hoped it would last. In and out. That’s what I’d promised Scout, but there was no way to know until I started digging what sort of boogeymen Snake kept hidden in his closets.
I picked the lock on the back door with no real effort—a skill I had taught myself after the fifth time Marcus had locked me out of the house for speaking back to him—and slipped inside. The place reeked like an ashtray, cigarette smoke mingling with the sour smell of dirty socks and old booze. My stomach turned. A wave of my hand did nothing. The stench still clung to me like the grime coating every surface.
An empty beer can crunched under my boot as I moved through the living room. It was barely furnished, like Snake had filled it with yard sale rejects just to tick a box. A stained couch with flattened cushions sat in the corner, piledwith motorcycle magazines, the pictures barely visible through the dust that had accumulated. I almost felt sorry for them.
A calendar on the wall caught my eye, a timestamp from when Snake had last occupied the place. June had now turned into September.
I moved into the kitchen, a grimy scene with dirty dishes abandoned on the drying rack. Another thick layer of dust had settled onto them as well—a death sentence to cleanliness. Cobwebs clung to the corners of the window, their silky threads trapping the blackened specks of long-dead insects. My hip bumped the edge of the fridge, and it rattled noisily, the outside of the door covered in rust and old takeout menus.
Cicadas hummed outside, a warning to the darkness that was ascending.
I rummaged through Snake’s cluttered desk, my fingers trembling as I rifled through unopened envelopes and junk mail. A crumpled receipt caught my eye—a phone number scrawled on the back in Snake’s messy handwriting, with the name Jenkins scribbled above it. My heart raced. It wasn’t much, but it was more than I had yesterday.
I yanked my phone from my back pocket and snapped a quick photo, shoving the receipt back into the drawer.
The sound of motorcycle engines rumbled in the distance, growing louder with each panicked second. Damn it. Talk about timing.
I’d barely even scratched the surface of the vile shit I knew Snake was hiding. And if I didn’t find something tonight, Rowan’s shooting would be just another thread in the tapestry of this town’s web of corruption.
But I was no good to anyone dead.
My hands fumbled with the drawer. I shoved it closed, heart slamming against my ribs, knocking over a lamp that wobbled like a child on the verge of a tantrum.
The bikes cut off outside. Footsteps crunched on gravel.
Shit. No time left.
I raced for the back door just as my phone vibrated in my hand. Scout’s name lit up the screen.
I answered in a harsh whisper. “What?”
“Sadie,” he whispered back. “Get your arse out of there now. Nicky’s here. Fuck.”
Nicky? I’d heard stories about him, none of them good. And there I was, playing chicken with the psychopath.
