Page 56 of My End
I froze.
“... don’t know who the fuck the rat is yet,” Gibbs muttered.
“But we know they’re Iron Fiends. The name Stretch came up.”
My breath caught.
“Stretch,” Boone repeated, as if tasting the word.
“Stretch is going to fucking die,” Gibbs growled. “I am so sick of these fucking bikers. They need to just shut up and let us throw them in fucking prison so we can move on to the next step in our plan.”
“So, we find Stretch,” Boone replied simply.
“Easier said than done. Could be anybody. We’ve brought in six new guys in the last three months. Any one of them could be playing us,” Gibbs muttered.
“You think it’s Jake?” Boone asked.
My whole body tensed.
“Can’t be,” Boone answered himself before Gibbs could. “Max Goode recommended him. And Max wouldn’t fuck me over like that. He knows what’s at stake.”
I backed away, one foot behind the other, with my heart hammering in my chest.
They were going to kill Jake because he was a rat. Well, they were going to when they figured out that Jake was Stretch.
I thought back on him saying that he had close friends who would do anything for him with just one phone call.
A motorcycle club.
And now the nicknames made even more sense.
It was only going to be a matter of time before they figured out that Jake was Stretch.
My Jake.
The one who held me like I was the only thing tethering him to this place. The one who kissed me like he’d fall apart if he stopped.
He hadn’t told me much, but I remembered the way he’d mentioned that phone number. That call. Just one, and they’d come running.
I had to find it.
I spun on my heel and rushed toward his room. I didn’t know where he was or when he’d be back. But I couldn’t wait. I had to warn him.
The door to his room creaked open when I pushed it. Empty.
Good.
I slipped inside and shut the door behind me. Locked it.
I stood in the middle of the room and turned in a slow circle. Where would he keep it? His desk. That was the most obvious place.
I started there.
The small wooden desk in the corner was tidy, just like the rest of the room. I opened the first side drawer. Pens. A notepad. Nothing helpful.
Second drawer. Socks.
Third drawer. A mess of paperclips and rubber bands.
