Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Riven

Iturned away from Parrish as he left, wanting with every fiber of my being to go after him, to jump into the truck with him and leave this fucking place for good. I belonged in bed with him, not standing out here ready to vomit because I’d been meeting Rex and Frank when Parrish had come looking for me. All I’d wanted was to get him away from them, for him not to get himself tangled in the shit I was going to do—shit that would no doubt get me thrown into prison again.

But this time I’d risk the fall to try and take Rex and Frank with me. It didn’t matter to me what I had to do to make that happen. If they were locked up, it would be better for everyone. Becca and her kids, Grandma, and Parrish.

My gaze snapped to the driveway like I expected him to be there again, but he wouldn’t be, would he? Because I’d fought with him on purpose. If I didn’t have to worry about him being around and interfering in any way, this would be a whole lot easier.

I sneaked back into the woods to grab the bag full of a lot of fucking money I had no idea how Frank got. Whatever it was, that shit was likely enough to get one of us killed. For a split second I thought about running with it, disappearing and never coming back, but I could never get Grandma to go and wouldn’t be able to explain the cash. Plus, I didn’t want their dirty money. Not anymore.

The burner cell they had given me weighed heavily in my pocket. The only number on it was to another burner Frank had. We’d only spoken briefly, Frank telling me to meet them in the woods. When I’d gotten there, the conversation had been, again, brief and to the point.

“Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. The abandoned mill in Travers.”

“I need a fucking address. I don’t know where that is,” I’d told him, so fucking angry that he was forcing me to play this game with him.

“Watch your mouth, McKenna. You only need the information we give you, when we choose to give it. There’s a lot of fucking money and drugs on the line. You better not screw this up.”

I shook the memory from my head as a wave of nausea threatened to drown me. My dinner worked its way up my esophagus until I purged everything from my gut into the grass.

This was big, way more than the petty drug dealing I’d done for Frank before getting locked up. There was no way back from this. I knew that.

But if it kept Frank from framing Parrish—or worse—it would all be worth it in the end.