Page 132 of Property of Fang
“That’s the problem,” he whisper-growls, leaning closer to my face. “We don’t know if they targeted us here because the Kings took youallor if they targeted us here because ofyou. Just you.” He exhales heavily out his nose as though disgusted. “It wasn’t my goddamn picture being sent to my father now, was it?”
Marty shifts his gaze our way, likely from Fang’s body language alone. There’s no way he could have heard those venomous words.
“Thanks for the reminder,” I mutter, arms folding over myself.
He sighs, straightening his back. “Highway’s bringing Jezabel here. They won’t be far away. Molly can go home with them.”
“And me?”
“I’m not finished with you.” He strides away and promptly resumes the chit-chat with local law enforcement.
Asshole.I could use the burner phone, but I don’t know anyone’s number there. I need Fang’s contacts. Molly sits at the booth still, licking the bowl and messing up her face all over again. I scan the restaurant for Loki and find him around the far side of the counter, waiting his turn to talk to the deputy. Hedoesn’t look my way, and I give up waiting to signal him, striding over to where he’s leaned against the wall, arms folded.
“Can you do me a favor?”
His gaze flicks over the deputies before returning to mine. “Depends.”
“Can you call someone, or message someone at the clubhouse to check the others are okay?”
His face softens. “Already on it. They didn’t strike there.”
A weight I hadn’t registered until now lifts from my chest.Thank you.“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” He smiles softly. “You better go sort that out, though.” Loki indicates to Molly with a lift of his chin, Fang’s daughter on her merry way to the kitchen to presumably ask for more ice cream.Shit.
I dash between people to get to her, catching her arm just as she reaches to push the swing door. “You can’t go in there.”
A frown tugs her brow. “Why not?”
“It’s a workspace. Just for people who work here.”
The look on her face says she doesn’t quite understand my garbled excuse, but she allows it anyway. “Fine.” The bowl’s pushed toward me. “I don’t know what to do with this.”
I gently nudge it back toward her. “Let’s take it to the counter, okay?”
She nods, holding it to her chest again. Taking Molly by the hand, I navigate her past people talking and the ones receiving medical care, all the while careful to body-block her from seeing the woman on the floor who has two paramedics working to help her. It’s not clear what’s wrong, but it’s bad enough that they have supplies spread everywhere and leads already on her. A small tarp is suspended between the hands of two patrons as a makeshift wall, but it doesn’t cover all of the scene.
There’s no one around when we reach the counter, so I instruct Molly to leave the bowl to the side for them to deal withlater. She carefully puts it up with both hands and then looks a little lost. I feel the same waiting for her escort back to the clubhouse. My mind keeps returning to what my father said. If he goddamn knew they’d recognize me, why did he put me in danger like that?
But Fang’s question rings louder: how did they know we were here? Were we tracked? Or do they have an informant? It seems awfully serendipitous that they knew exactly what night we’d leave the compound if we were tailed. A mole makes way more sense.
And if the rest of the girls are fine, then was he right? Are they only after me? AmIthe danger?
My gaze roams the faces in the room, the people still here, still aware of what I’m doing. Given the brevity of the situation,everyonelooks as though their mind is elsewhere, that they’re not quite themselves. Anyone could be an informant. But it doesn’t make sense to be one of the townsfolk. They wouldn’t be close enough to see the comings and goings of the clubhouse to know I left. Unless it’s someone on the inside? I study both deputies. Is the spy on the sheriff’s payroll? My gaze shifts to Loki. Or are they closer than that?
I turn to find Fang staring at me with the same distrust hardening his brow.
Maybe the Devil’s Breed did more damage with this ram than we gave them credit for? Maybe the point wasn’t to harm us at all, but to create exactly this: an environment where nobody is a friend and no one can be trusted.
The truck was nothing more than a Trojan horse, delivering all they needed to have us destroy each other from the inside out.
Suspicion.
FORTY-FOUR
FANG
Midnight has comeand gone by the time I finally get Molly to bed. My head’s too wired to rest, too many thoughts circling up there. I make my way to the kitchen, calculating the hours until Reno’s awake and she hears the news. What kind of fuckery is it that this happens on the same day I argue I can better care for our daughter? I roll my shoulders, sucking air between my teeth as I stretch the sore muscles. My back still aches like a motherfucker; I haven’t had a quiet moment yet to check it out.
