Page 1 of The Truths We Seek

CHAPTER ONE

MEYER

ELEVEN MONTHS AGO

My phone buzzes across my desk for the third time in a row while I look at the accounts for the club and try not to launch my computer across the room. I fucking hate doing the books, but I also don’t trust anyone enough to let them handle it and not screw us over.

Sighing as I scrub a hand down my face, realizing I’m not going to be able to focus on the spreadsheet in front of me until I get more caffeine in my system, I close the document and take a deep breath. I flip my phone over when the buzzing stops and notice Tommy’s name on the screen. That’s unusual, we’re not due to check in for a few weeks.

It starts to buzz again, so I swipe across the screen to answer. “Four fucking tries. Good thing nobody’s dying, Kid.”

A laugh escapes me. Not many people would dare call me “Kid”, let alone speak to me like that. “Oh, people are dying, just no one we give a fuck about. What’s up, Old Man?”

He guffaws down the line. “I swear to God, if you little shits don’t stop calling me old…” He pauses and I can’t help but wonder who else he’s talking about, but before I can ask, he starts to speak again. “I need a favor.”

My forehead creases as I frown. Tommy never asks for anything. Hasn’t for a long time. He hates owing people, despite the fact that he’ll literally bend over backwards for the people he cares about. Not that he cares about many people; I can probably count them on one hand.

Which means whatever this is, it’s important, meaning it’s enough to make me nervous.

“What’s up?”

“The girl I told you about that I’ve been helping?”

“I remember,” I confirm. He’s mentioned her a few times. Hasn’t gone into the deep details, but for Tommy to go out of his way for her the way he has means there’s something about her that’s special. “What about her?”

“I need you to put her somewhere safe. I’ve tried doing it her way, the small-town way, but you and I both know that disappearing in a small town is never going to last long. She needs resources I don’t have—”

“But I do. Who exactly is she running from?” I ask, curious.

“Her ex.”

“Husband?”

“No, just a piece of shit that roped her in and beat her until she didn’t think she deserved any better.” My jaw clenches at his words. There are few worse cowards in the world than the ones who beat women to make themselves feel like men. “He nearly killed her, but she woke up. She ran. Except he’s a cop.”

“Fuck,” I say with a sigh. That explains why it’s been such a thing moving her. “I can help. Send me her file, and don’t pretend you don’t have one. I’ll put a plan together. How long do we have?”

“She got his little package today so she’ll be on the move tomorrow. I’ll be sending her your way. She’ll get there late tomorrow night, I imagine.”

“Plenty of time,” I respond with a laugh.

“Telling me you’re not up to the challenge, Kid?” I can hear the bullshit grin in his voice and I shake my head.

“Fuck you, Old Man. Why aren’t we just handling the ex?” I ask, curious. Seems a much simpler solution.

“One, he’s a cop, likely to bring too much heat. Two, she doesn’t want it. Says she doesn’t want to be that person. She has a lot of demons she’s running from, I think not killing him keeps some of them at bay.”

I nod, not that he can see it. It makes sense in a fucked up kind of way, but I’ve never been one to disobey a lady’s wishes… well, not unless I have to anyway. “Send me her details. I’ll get it sorted out and let you know the plan asap.”

“You’re a good kid,” he says, and I laugh again. “Catch you later. Say hi to Angie for me.”

I shake my head as he ends the call. I am not saying hello to my mother for him. He can deal with that shit show on his own. The trapped girl, I’ll help, but his weird love triangle shit, whatever it is, with my mom? Not a chance.

My email from Tommy pings a second later. I click on the notification and download the document he sent. Without even reading, I hit print. This blue light shit is giving me a headache, I need paper.

God, I sound like my mom. I’m getting fucking old.

The machine whirrs, printing off page after page, and my curiosity piques further. How does one girl require so much information?

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