Chapter Thirty-Four

I’m somewhere between consciousness and restless sleep when my phone rumbles on my nightstand, and my eyes pop open. Premonition strikes hard as I check it to confirm what I already know.

Dressed in seconds, duffle bag in hand, I pause at the foot of the stairs before backtracking to Sean’s room. Opening the cracked door, I spot Cecelia sleeping peacefully. Chest aching, I soak in the look of her where she lays on her stomach—hair fanned over her pillow, expression serene, lips slightly parted, the sheet resting just below the small of her naked back. Burning the image of her into memory, guilt threatens because the last time I saw her, I’d been in such a fucked-up state that when she popped her head into my room, I slammed the door in her face. As cruel as that act was, I refused to let her glimpse what was festering inside me. Aching with regret, I rip my eyes away and make a beeline for my Camaro.

Fifteen minutes later, I finish screwing the temporary tag onto the old Buick before taking the driver’s seat. Adrenaline pumping, I fix the rearview and pull my solid black ballcap down. Though I’m thankful for the early morning blanket of cloud cover, I curse when rain begins to accumulate on the windshield.

Trying my luck with the wipers—the one aspect I overlooked while restoring the eighties model sedan—I send up a thank you when the rusted blades power to life. Pulling down the ancient gear shift at the steering wheel, I roll through the debris of the junkyard, following the narrow path I cleared in preparation. Narrowly maneuvering the Buick between the crushed, stacked sedans on my left and the side of the garage to the right, I’m feet from King’s parking lot when Sean steps directly in my path.

He doesn’t so much as glance up as he takes painstaking time to produce his Zippo before lighting the cigarette dangling from his lips.

Exhaling a steady plume of smoke, Sean remains idle, a foot from the hood of the Buick as I roll down the driver’s window. Rain dings from the hallowed cars stacked next to me when he finally looks up and pins me where I sit in the driver’s seat. “Where you off to, brother?”

With zero time for his theatrics and knowing there’s no way he’s moving without an answer, I exit the car and stalk over to him, anxiety ramping. “Get the fuck out of the way, Sean. Now is not the time.”

“So, I’m guessing you don’t want me riding shotgun?” He scrutinizes the Buick before turning back to me, tilting his head with his question. “What the fuck is this, Dom?”

“What this is, is time sensitive,” I grit out, “in a way you can’t fucking fathom, and I don’t have time to satiate your curiosity or talk feelings.”

“Tell me,” he snaps in demand.

“Tell you what? That I’m just as guilty as you are now, and that he’ll fucking never forgive us both! That’s what you wanted, right? To have someone to share the blame with? You win. I fucked her, have been fucking her.”

“Yeah, well, narcissists blame everyone but themselves,” he drawls out, “but never perceived you as one of those.” He takes another long drag, brows drawn in confusion. “Is this you spinning out?” He asks. “Is this what this is, Dom? I get that what’s going on is heavy—”

“You have no fucking idea what’s going on and haven’t since she got here. That’s on you.” My anxiety ramps as I dart my gaze back to the Buick, shoving him back while using the one piece of mental leverage I’ve got to keep him distracted. “Since day one, you betrayed your ink and brothers and made it look easy—that’s also on you. I’m done. So, stay the hell away from me, and while you’re at it, keep her away from me too.”

Hurt leaks in his voice with his next question. “Do you want me to give up on you?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you do.”

His eyes dim before he flicks his lit cigarette at the Buick and turns to stalk off. I’m back at the driver’s door when I’m turned and pinned, neck snapping to the side after Sean delivers a punishing right hook. “You didn’t mean that. Any of it.”

My jaw thumps as his expression hardens to one of resolution when my mask temporarily slips, and he realizes he’s right. “Stop protecting me and tell me how to fucking help!”

“Get the fuck out of the way!” I roar. “Goddamnit, Sean, let me go!”

“Then tell me you can come back from this,” his eyes desperately search mine, and I give him a slow nod.

“Words, Dom.”

“If this goes wrong because you held me up, I’ll never fucking forgive you!” I already fucked up and narrowly missed this window because I got distracted by Cecelia. A window that’s rapidly closing as Sean steals precious seconds from me. The thought that I might miss it entirely triggers a fear I’ve never felt before. Posturing up, I leer at Sean as I speak. “Please don’t make me hurt you.”

Sean steps back in shock, not bothering to hide the betrayal he feels as he rips himself away. Even as I break a piece of us—a piece of his heart—he pleads with me because I’m his only concern. “Meet me at the goddamn junkyard when you’re done. At least give me that much? Whatever it is, we’ll handle it, finish it—together.”

With a dip of my chin, he turns and stalks off without another word, slamming a bay door closed so I hear it, an unspoken promise he won’t follow or try to stop me as I race through the parking lot.

An agonizing hour and change later, I’m parallel parking the Buick while frantically scanning the street for signs of the fly’s hatchback. Thanks to Sean’s hold up, I managed to beat him here in a matter of seconds, which is confirmed when the hatchback comes into view. I send up another quick thank you to whomever or whatever is watching over me when a car pulls out in front of him on the other side of the barricaded street, and the fly takes the spot adjacent to where I’m parked.

Scanning for pedestrian traffic, I find none as the familiar vibration rattles heavily through me—so much so my hands start to shake as I press the brake and pull down the gear shift just as he starts to exit his hatchback.

Slowly backing away from the curb to buy time, I slam on the gas when he retrieves what’s needed from his back seat and shuts the door. Before he can take a single step toward the auditorium, I pin him between the Buick’s passenger door and his driver’s door. His eyes widen when he sees the silencer attached to the Glock I have trained between his eyes.

“Good morning,” I utter low, tugging my hoodie with my free hand to unveil the offering sitting in my passenger seat. He’s dressed in his uniform, his security lanyard hanging around his neck. Unzipping the duffle with my gloved hand, I open it to reveal my offering.

“Take it in trade,” I order, keeping his gaze and recognizing the void inside it. It’s like staring into a bottomless pit. I commit his expression to memory because I might have lied when I answered Sean. There might not be any coming back from this—in one sense or another.

Time will tell.

“Think of it as a gift with my blessing,” I prompt him.

His eyes dart to the stadium before flitting back to me.

“The trade isn’t optional,” I stretch my gun toward him, my intent clear.

“Who are you?” He asks, his timbre humanizing him. He could be any one of my brothers . . . but he’s not.

I rattle off his handle, and understanding crosses his expression. He thinks I’m the one who’s been with him nightly in the chatroom. A nauseating grin spreads over the fly’s face as he accepts my offering, collecting the duffle bag and leaving his loaded backpack in my passenger seat. Duffle strapped on his shoulder, when he clears the window I fire three times in quick succession and slam on the gas. His lifeless body collapses onto the street in my rearview, confirming that no amount of glue will piece his diseased head back together. Waves of anxiety roll from me as I take all the alleys to get back to the main road, keeping a law-abiding pedestrian’s speed even after I hit the highway.

“Dom,” Sean snaps my name again to jar me into talking as he has since I pulled up. The noise roaring in my head keeps me mute as I watch the fire rage inside the Buick. The plastic steering wheel melts like puddling clay as I toss in the ball cap, fueling the flames while stripping down. Tossing in my T-shirt, Nikes, jeans, and boxers into the mix, I grab the running hose as the morning sun beats down on the two of us.

Mere feet away, Sean chain smokes, his anxiety building as I rinse myself with the bar of soap before using a cuticle brush, scrubbing to ensure there’s no residual spray on me before I towel off. Reaching into my packed duffle, I pull my boxers on as I glance around the junkyard. Denny observes the fire, extinguisher in hand, the only bird here aside from the two of us. He hasn’t so much as looked our way, wordlessly keeping his distance while diligently ensuring the Buick I arrived in never existed. After fastening my jeans, I toss the towel into the mix along with the duffle itself and dip my chin to Denny. A few more silent minutes tick by before Denny fires off the extinguisher, dousing the flames as Sean and I step back.

It’s times like this that I’m thankful I bought the junkyard with my money rather than expensive clothes. An acquisition that, to outsiders, makes perfect sense in conjunction with owning an auto shop. I credit the inkling that I had to move in on this property for needs like this.

Once Sean’s taken the hint that conversation isn’t happening, we both watch on as Denny mounts the forklift and, seconds later, drives twin prongs through the body of the smoking Buick. It’s when Tyler’s engine sounds before his C20 flies into view that I ready myself, the truck skidding to a halt feet away.

“I didn’t say a fucking word, Dom,” he assures me, his eyes volleying between Tyler’s truck and me.

“I know,” I clip out.

Sean’s still on my side for the moment, my most trusted, my brother by choice, and my best friend for the same reason. That truth resounds deep as he rattles next to me in fear. His concern—even after I’ve done my worst—eliminates some of the space between us. “The fuck did you do, Dom?”

“You’re about to find out,” I relay, getting a good look at him for the first time since I got here, the haze starting to disperse before I issue my warning. “Don’t step in for me.”

“What?” Sean’s brows draw together a second before Tyler flies out of the cab of his truck and charges me, his right hook landing squarely, making my teeth rattle. Unable to withstand the force of it, I stumble back but lift my chin, readying myself for more. We’ve been at the junkyard for a little over two hours, which means the news has already broken with enough details to have Tyler drawing the right conclusions and steering him to my whereabouts.

Still clueless as to what just went down, Sean ignores my order and steps between us, trying to get Tyler under control. Truth is, if Tyler wanted to have another crack at me, he’d have already put Sean down and delivered it tenfold. Tyler has yet to show anyone in the club what he’s truly capable of. Something I admire about him, even as my mouth stings like a bitch.

“What the fuck!” He roars, attempting to push past Sean, who divides us now after ignoring my request.

“Let him through, Sean,” I snap.

Sean sighs and reluctantly lets Tyler by.

“You fucking know why,” I relay, trying to keep my tone level.

“We had a goddamn plan!” He rages, and I can tell he’s doing everything he can to keep from striking me.

“You made a plan that includes utilizing a broken system to do our job. That’s not who we are. We don’t make citizen’s fucking arrests, Tyler. Maybe you spent one too many years following rules.”

“So instead of raising those points, you go and fuck it all up?” He fires, his head swiveling toward Sean.

“Don’t look at him,” I bark, drawing the heat away from Sean, “I acted alone by baiting one of the hooks you were planning on casting a little early in a way that can’t be ignored. But this can still play out to plan.” I step forward, meeting his accusing eyes. “I just sped the process up a little.”

“What the fuck is happening right now?” Sean demands between us.

Tyler shakes his head, his livid stare fixed on me as he speaks. “What’s happening is our unhinged brother went rogue, endangering his fucking life and future while simultaneously trying to take care of our crate problem.”

“I altered it,” I insist in a shit excuse. “Kicked it into motion early out of necessity because my fucking hands were tied!”

“Yeah, and where are our hands now?” He snaps before opening his truck door as the Buick is crushed to dust behind him. Reaching into the cab, I know exactly what his plan is, and a second later, the news fills the yard.

“—gunman found dead outside the North Carolina stadium has been identified as twenty-year-old Joshua Brown. Authorities have issued a state-wide search for a suspected second gunman, who investigators think might have had a last-minute change of heart. Firework shows have been canceled across the following counties, Gaston, Iredell, Lincoln, and Mecklenburg. Please be advised a second suspected gunman remains at large and should be considered armed and extremely dangerous—”

Sean’s eyes fly to mine. “Jesus Christ, Dom!”

“Don’t look at me like I had a choice,” I snap at both of them. They stare at me like I’m a different person than the one who rode bikes with them well after the streetlights came on, snapped cards in our rooms until the late hours, and explored every inch of the surrounding woods while sharing stories of the first time we got our dicks wet.

Maybe I’m not the kid they grew up with anymore.

Maybe I haven’t been in a long time.

Maybe the look in their collective eyes is justified, and I focus on Tyler as I relay as much. “Neither of you wanted to see that I’m as capable as you are,” I say, knowing he’s well aware the other I’m referring to isn’t Sean. “You can relay that to France when you update him to earn your brownie points.”

Tyler’s eyes flare in final warning, and I take it for what it is, along with the struggle inside him—knowing he’s now crystal clear on the nature of mine. While they might still be straddling the line from the reality that exists—and the world we have plans to change—in my mind, I’ve been living full-time on the other side.

“We can’t stand idly by, not when it comes to stakes this high,” I declare, “You can look at me all you want like that, but you would have done the same thing because all three of us know when we wait for someone to do something no one ever fucking shows up.”

Tyler full on rushes me, gripping my T-shirt in both hands. Nose to nose, he stares me down, and I don’t waver. “We’re the someones, Tyler. That’s who we decided to be.” He searches for the cracks in my psyche, but I haven’t felt them yet. Right now, I feel nothing, and it must show because he steps back, seeming satisfied, before releasing me and hanging his head. “Goddamnit, Dom.”

“You’re wasting time already,” I remind him.

“Those plans have to change,” he snaps.

“They don’t,” I tell him as he looks up at me, staring through me, his mind racing with a dozen scenarios, tailoring each to further cover my tracks.

“Cameras?” Tyler prompts.

“Blacked out everything within blocks. No pedestrians on the street. I didn’t speed. I don’t think anyone made the car, and I didn’t get out.” I nod toward the dusted Buick. “We’ve owned it for years due to a mechanics lien.”

He gapes at me. “How long have you been planning this?”

“A while.” Since the fly vibrated on my web.

“Fuck!” Tyler slams his fist on his truck glaring at me, his request for Sean. “Get everyone to the garage. We’re going on a field trip. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

I move to get into Sean’s Nova, and Tyler shakes his head. “Not you. Go to Denny’s and fucking stay there until I text you home.” He looks over to Sean. “He’s grounded.” Tyler snaps his gaze back to me, and I don’t bother to object. He’s the only one who can veto me, and there’s no fucking way around it. “This is what it is, or I bring France home. Don’t fucking test me on this, Dom.”

Exhausted, I give him a sharp dip of my chin as he climbs into his truck and speeds off. Sean sparks up a cigarette, and I give him the words I know he needs. “I’m okay.”

Denny pulls up, and I round the car as Sean remains idle, studying me intently for the same cracks Tyler sought. Opening Denny’s passenger door, I jerk my chin. “Go. I’m all right, brother.”

Seconds later, Sean’s speeding off in his Nova. Denny remains wordless as I stare through the trees blurring out of his passenger window. On that drive, I realize I’ve finally reached the place I’ve been searching for. A state not quite as blissful as the peaceful place I’ve come to rely on but strong enough to recognize—numb.