Page 64 of Flame
I swallow at the venom in his tone. “So how do we find where they lead? Google?”
“Probably.” He nods, stroking his chin. “But we’d need more than just the locations. Who owns them? What happens around them. That sort of shit. Something specific the police wouldn’t be able to ignore.”
“Just what do you think Gino is up to?”
“What we need is answers,” he says without addressing the question directly. Tucking the phone into his pocket, he starts for the exit. “I think I know how to get them.”
His tone triggers a chilling sense of déjà vu. It’s the same way he looked right before roping me into a drug deal. Like he’s trapped inside an invisible cage with no clear way out but to resort to desperation.
Staggering from around the table, I race to catch up to him. “Meaning…”
“Meaning I know a guy who could give us that information,” he says from over his shoulder. “But it wouldn’t be cheap.”
“How much?”
He scoffs. “A lot more than money. A lot fucking more.”
I shiver, hating that my intuition was spot on. “We have to get justice for Faith,” I say, even as I inwardly balk at what that might mean for my family. I’m not the only one with something at stake, though. “Especially if you’re a suspect.”
“Let’s go,” he says, leading the way from the building. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
* * *
Our destination givesme a horrific flashback to the warehouse we went to for his uncle. Only a few key differences provide any ounce of reassurance—we’re still in the city, for one. Though, this desolate street strewn with stray pieces of garbage doesn’t instill much confidence, even before I look at Rafe. He’s hunched over the steering wheel, wearing the same tense expression he did as he held the gun on the dealer.
Like he’s toying with a decision from which there is no turning back.
“Sit tight,” he tells me, slipping from the driver’s seat. “Give me ten minutes on the fucking dot. I don’t come out? You go back to the shop and pretend you were there all fucking night. Got it?”
“No!” I’m already unfastening my seatbelt. To his annoyance, I wrench open my door and place one foot on the pavement. “You don’t get to drag people into situations like this with no explanation.Again.”
He winces at the reminder. “Fine. The guy here cracks video, phones, laptops. You name it, and he can probably rip into it, among other things. If anyone can help us make use of what info Faith had, he can.”
“You don’t look very convinced,” I point out, eyeing his hands. They’re clenched so tightly the knuckles protrude.
“A better option would be going to the police directly, but who knows how many are up Gino’s ass? This is the next best thing.”
But his tone alone gives me doubt. “Can you trust him?” I ask.
He switches off the car, and muscles open his own door. “He’s damn good at what he does. Not to mention, if it’s illegal and risky, he doesn’t care.”
Admittedly, those actions sound just a step below a drug deal.
“The more you elaborate on this plan of yours, the less enthusiastic I feel.”
“Look.” When we’re both out of the car, he grabs my arm, spinning me to face him. “I won’t lie to you. It’s not ideal, and he’s a sneaky son of a bitch. Usually, he wants a favor. A tit for tat sort of thing. He does an illegal favor for you; you do something for him so you can’t rat him out. It’s why he’s lasted in this business for so damn long.”
I suck in a steadying breath. “So, is this your way of asking me to cooperate in another drug deal?”
He flinches. “No! This is my way of asking…”
“For what?”
Sighing, he cups my chin, urging me to face him. “I’m asking you to trust me. And I’m asking you point blank—do you want to go in and get involved in that shit? Or wait here like a good little girl?”
I answer him by turning to the nearest building and craning my neck back to observe it in full. “This the place?”
Together, we approach it, following a desolate back road. At a glance, it looks like nothing more than an abandoned brick building. Any windows appear to be boarded up with plywood. An array of colorful graffiti mars nearly every inch of the side sporting a single battered door.
