Page 20 of One Last Rainy Day
By all means, reel it in.
Chapter Ten
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT,Sean stands just outside his driver’s door, his phone to his ear. I kick back against my Camaro in wait, scanning the towering mountains in the pitch-black sky. He coos into the phone, catching my gaze before giving me a drawn-out wink. “You know I could tuck you inproperlyif you’d let me.”
Uninterested in his performance—which seems to be for my benefit—I jerk my chin to get him to hurry it along so we can get to work.
“Agree to disagree,” Sean replies, ignoring my prompt. “You never did tell me about your dream this morning.”
He waits patiently for her response. “I haven’t given you enough already? Ouch. You’re going to pay for that...me too. See you tomorrow. Night, Pup.”
Sean clips his phone closed before locking it into his Nova, his other hand holding the Glock he’s had trained on Clint since I pulled up.
Tyler found our dirty bird.
It took a few days to lure Clint in after Tyler set the trap, but Sean stepped in, taking responsibility once Tyler identified him.
Clint whimpers, kneeling at our feet, looking every bit the strung-out junkie he is. Lit by our collective headlights, his sunken eyes dart around as he tries to construct an adequate excuse to help him out of his current situation.
Sean rips off the masking tape that’s muffling Clint. When I step forward, Sean gives me an adamant shake of his head. “This is onme.”
I dip my chin, though I’m dying to unleash. But rules are rules, and when it comes to Sean’s own recruits, it’s his call. Sean kneels in front of Clint, casually draping the gun on his thigh. “You thought we wouldn’t find out, Clint? Is that what you thought?”
Clint—already on the verge of sobbing—speaks up, “I j-just n-needed—”
“Oh, I know what you needed,” Sean snaps. “It’s one thing to poison yourself to the point you got cut out of secrets; it’s another entirely to spread that poison.” Sean leans in. “Think we wouldn’t pinpoint how Fatty got pinched and printed? Did you think we would kick him out and leave it there? You yourself should know that we don’t half-ass anything. That’s how we keep our secrets.”
Sean pulls a prescription bottle from his pocket and shakes it in front of Clint’s face. “You know what that sound is, Dom?”
“What’s that?”
Sean obnoxiously shakes the bottle in a taunt. “That’s a junkie’s mating call.”
Spittle runs from Clint’s mouth as he speaks. “I’ll get clean. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Hear that, Dom?” Sean snaps with disgust. “He’ll do whatever we want. His girlfriend OD’s three weeks ago andbarely survives, butthisis his wake-up call.” Sean uncaps the bottle before balancing the small pill on the tip of his finger, and Clint’s eyes follow. “You got hooked and poisoned everyone around you. But then you lost your spot with us and your respect. No bird wanted to deal with you or let you in on their secrets, so you took it upon yourself to sell Fatty out to steal from your own...I’m going to give you one fucking chance to confirm what I already know.”
Clint nods and sniffs. “Fatty and I were smoking a spliff at his place a few days before.” His expression falters, as do his words, as the fear of his confession eats at him.
Sean dips his chin as Clint sputters out the rest.
“I-I spotted one of the vans at his place. It was under a tarp, but I knew what was going down because I’d done the service calls in the past, and I’d been trying to get in on it...” he harshly exhales, closing his eyes as Sean presses the Glock to his forehead.
“And?”
“No one would let me ride passenger, so I scoped Fatty’s house, waiting on him to leave. I wasn’t going to take it all, just a little off the top...I swear.”
Sean shoots him a withering stare, fed up with his hesitation.
“But h-he wouldn’t leave the van, so I got him distracted...I-I knew the girl and offered her some money, but I didn’t know she would get poppedthat night...” he shakes his head, “that was pure fucking coincidence. I didn’t mean for him to get picked up. I was trying to buy time to get some merch to sell. You’ve got to believe me, man. I wouldn’t—”
Sean presses the Glock in harder so Clint’s head is forced back a few inches. “You fucking did. And Fatty lost hischance at getting inked in the process. That’s so fucking cold, man. Must’ve stung when you found the van empty. You cost us a decent bird with that bullshit.”
Sean sighs, looking over at me as Clint sputters more meaningless apologies.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Sean.”
“The saddest part is—thatknowing how we work—you thought you might get away with it.” Sean nods toward me, and I grip Clint’s head as Sean forces him to take a pill.
