by Callie Hart
“Don’t rip that.” I fix a disapproving stare on him in the rearview mirror. He drops his hand to his rest on his chest.
“I saw how crazy Papa Parisi got when that prick hurt your dog. He lost his shit at the vet’s. Makes sense that he’d go nuclear on Darhower at the thought of Weaving anywhere near you again.”
Halliday dips her head, squinting harder at the spiky ends of her hair; I haven’t mentioned her very obvious reactions every time Zander opens his mouth to speak, but it’s becoming hard to hold back. She either has a thing for him or she’s terrified of him, one of the two.
The wind moans across the parking lot, shaking the stand of trees that lead down to the dell, making their boughs dance. My heart damn near skips out of my chest when I see the dark figure, shoulders hunched up around his ears, jogging toward us across the cracked black top. Alex pulls a face when he sees that Halliday has claimed his spot in the passenger seat. He mumbles unhappily under his breath as he wrenches the rear door open, slapping Zander’s feet out of the way as he slides into the car.
His cheeks are red from the cold, his dark eyes bright, hair a little tousled, and I suddenly resent the fact that there are two other people in this car. I want him all to myself. I want him some place dark and quiet, where I can unwrap him slowly like the gift that he is and savor every tiny, quirky detail of him. He smirks at me, catching the edge of his lower lip between his teeth, and pinpricks of heat tingle across the top of my chest.
“Gross,” Zander states. “If I’d known swooning was on the agenda, I would’ve brought something to vomit into.”
“Move.” Alex shoves at his legs, trying to push him further over. “If any part of you is touching me by the time I take off my jacket, you’re gonna wind up bruised.”
Zander rights himself in his seat, sitting up properly. “Oh, we can be matching,” he says, poking a finger at the purple shadow that’s rising on Alex’s cheekbone. “What happened? Lemme guess. You walked into a doorframe.”
Quick as lightning, Alex grabs Zander’s finger and bends it back, growling. “The fuck’s wrong with you? Do you have no sense of self-preservation?”
Oh my god. Now I know how my parents felt when I used to brawl with Max on the backseat. “Just behave, both of you, or I’m gonna turn the heating off.”
Zander wrenches his finger free, shaking his hand out, silently mouthing the word, fuck. “Don’t worry, Argento. This is how he shows me that he loves me.”
Alex thumps him hard, giving him a dead leg. “Only I get to call her that.”
I have to take control of this situation now, before things get out of hand. “Zander, what did you wanna talk to us about?” I hold up the ratty piece of paper I found in my locker after History, showing him the scrawl of his own handwriting, which reads:
Group chat.
Lunch.
Muy importante.
-Zander
I wasn’t sure who he’d meant by group—presumably just me, Alex and himself—but he didn’t object to Halliday’s presence when he got in the car. Zander snags the note from my hand, tucking it into his jeans pocket as though he’s planning on reusing it later. “I heard about the Weaving situation last night when I was working at the Rock.”
Alex clenches his jaw, turning to look out of the window; the very mention of the Rock is uncomfortable for him.
“Monty’s pretty pissed at you, man,” Zander continues. “He wants a sit-down. Things are getting ugly with the Dreadnaughts. I’m not sure how long I’ll on task at Raleigh, casing the place for your boss.”
“He isn’t my boss anymore.”
“Don’t be such a baby. Just go and talk to him for fuck’s sake. Things aren’t as bad as you think they are.”
Tension fizzles in the air as Alex twists, turning a cold scowl on Zander. “Is this seriously why you dragged us out here? To try and play peacemaker between me and Monty?”
“No. That’s just a side note. A by-the-way. Do with it what you will.”
“Great. I’ll shove it up your ass.”
“Alex.” I thump my head against the headrest, rolling my eyes. “Just get on with it, Zander. I’m starving.”
“All right, all right. Monty was talking to some DEA Agent last night. Some smarmy fucker called Lowell.” Alex sits up in his seat like he’s been electrocuted. He keeps his mouth shut, though, letting Zander speak. “Monty told Lowell that Jacob wasn’t his concern anymore, so long as Caleb went down. He’s obviously got some kind of his own deal going on with the feds. But what he said after Lowell left was surprising. He told Casey, one of the Dreadnaught boys, that there’s an informant in the club. Someone who’s been slipping information to the feds for years. Said he finally had proof and there was gonna be hell to pay.”
Alex frowns. “Informant?”
Halliday pivots, twisting around in her seat to face the boys. This piece of information seems to have piqued her interest. “What kind of informant?”
“A long-standing one,” Zander says. “I asked Casey about it afterwards, and he said back in the day Monty served three years at Washington State for armed robbery. Someone threw him under the bus. Cut themselves a deal and disappeared into thin air. Apparently, Monty’s had his suspicions forever, but last night he seemed pretty sure of himself. Now there’s gonna be some reshuffling at the club ’cause of whatever the DEA told Monty. I hung back at the club house after they closed up for the night and low and behold, Q showed up with—”
“My dad,” Alex says grimly. He looks askance at Zander. “Right? He showed up there with Jack.” He’s resolute, like after all this time the pieces of a complex puzzle are falling into place.
Zander nods. “Q knows your dad’s been informing. I think he’s been supplying him with information to pass on to the DEA that’ll benefit the club, one way or another. He warned Jack that Monty was gonna be coming after him for real this time. Your dad said he wasn’t gonna leave Raleigh with you still in such close proximity to—”
Alex lashes out, smashing his fist sideways into the car door. The sudden movement makes Halliday yelp, jumping out of her seat. Alex shakes, wound extremely tight. I think he’s gonna repeat the action and hit my car again, but he lets out an uneven breath instead, grinding his teeth together as he looks at me. “Sorry,” he says. “That fucking asshole. You can tell him not to stay here on my account. What does he think’s gonna happen? I’m just gonna drop everything and leave Raleigh with him? He’s fucking delusional.”
Panic grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. I see it all play out: Alex forgiving his father; life here becoming untenable; Alex showing up on my doorstep in the middle of the night to tell me that he has to go away, that it’s for the best, that I’ll be better off without him…
Not gonna happen, Silver. He’d never do that to you, and you know it.
The thought is upsetting, though. Life was one long nightmare before I met Alex. Yeah, things have been absolutely crazy since I met him. Tragedy has nipped at our heels, dogging our every turn, but at least he’s been there, right by my side. Losing him…well, it doesn’t even bear thinking about.
“He doesn’t just want you to come with him,” Zander says, exhaling as he leans his head against the window next to him. “He wants you to set up a new chapter of the M.C. with him. Be his vice president.”
Alex’s reaction is priceless. His mouth drops open and he lets out a rattle of laughter that bounces around the inside of the car. “No offence, man,” he says. “But I’d rather choke on a dick that join a motorcycle club. I’m done with old men thinking that they can manipulate and use me for own their ends. My life’s my own. I’m not gonna let anyone pull my strings again. Especially not fucking Giacomo.”
“Figured you’d say that.”
“Why are you even telling us this? Q’s gonna be mad as hell when he finds out you spilled club intel.”
Zander shrugs, pressing his hands to his chest as he straightens out his already creaseless shirt. “Ahhh, y’know. There hav
e been spurious rumors that I’m a bad friend floating around lately. Thought I’d knock that one on the head.”
A loaded, wordless exchanges passes between Zander and Alex.
See. I do have your back.
Yeah, yeah, all right. You’ve made your point.
I haven’t had any dealings with the Dreadnaughts. However, I’ve seen a couple of the club’s members at the Rock when I’ve hung out there with Alex, and they don’t look like the kind of men you want to cross. Zander could get into very real, serious trouble for telling us what he knows. Like, kneecaps shot out and fingers cut off kind of trouble.
Alex rewards Zander with a grudgingly grateful look. “Thanks, man,” he mumbles.
Zander could use this opportunity to be an asshole. It’d be easy to shoot off some attitude after all the grief Alex has given him. He chooses not to. Rather, he gives Alex a perfunctory smile, slapping him on the shoulder. “While we’re on topic, there is something else.”
“What?”
“Giacomo figured you weren’t gonna be interested in the role he’s picked out for you, so he came up with a plan.”
Alex bristles. “What plan?”
“The most timeless plan there is. You want the guy, then you go target the girl, right? He’s hired someone to go after Silver…and I’ll give you three guesses who he’s picked for the job.”
29
ALEX
I’m going to fucking kill him. Going after me is one thing, but putting a mark on Silver ’cause he knows he’ll never get what he wants any other way? My worthless father’s really crossed the line this time. He’s going to regret he ever even thought about stepping foot inside Raleigh town limits.
I’m going to bide my time. If I go after him guns blazing, I’ll only end up tipping my hand. He’ll realize his plan’s been leaked and concoct a backup. He’ll scramble to regain the upper hand, and that could lead to all kinds of reckless behavior.
Back in the car, I thought Zander was going to tell us that my father had hired Jake to pursue Silver. He probably wouldn’t have had to pay the psycho to do it, after all. He’d have done it for free. But no…he tapped Zander for the job. In his words, “You can get the closest, my man. Charm her in the parking lot at school or something. Tell her you’re a champion cunt eater. Girls pretend they they’re all embarrassed when you try to stick your head between their legs, but they love that shit just as much as we love getting our cocks sucked. And I’ve never turned down an opportunity to get my cock sucked.”
I nearly knocked Zanders teeth down his throat when he told me that. Wasn’t his fault, but the idea of him propositioning my girl made me want to eviscerate him right where he stood. He’d waited until Silver and Halliday had gone to cheer practice before he’d told me that ugly piece of the story, which was good. If he’d disrespected Silver by repeating my father’s repellant suggestion, I don’t think I would have kept my shit together. Not because I’m worried that she might have been offended; thanks to Jake’s campaign of hate at Raleigh, Silver’s heard much worse. No, I would have been ashamed that a man who would say such a thing was actually related to me, and the same blood flows through our veins. If I could drain every last drop from my body and somehow still draw enough breath to protect her, then I’d do it without hesitation.
Football practice goes about as well as can be expected. The entire team collude to make me suffer, but they picked the wrong fucking day to pull that shit. I’m just itching to break something. A helmet. A record. A rib or two. By the end of the hour-long debacle, two of my teammates, die-hard Jacob Weaving minions, have been benched with injuries that were very satisfying to inflict, I hold the title for most completions in a Raleigh High practice game, and vengeance is still burning hot in my chest.
I want to rain down fire and brimstone on Giacomo Moretti’s head, and I want to laugh like a madman while I’m doing it.
Outside, Zander walks with me to the Camaro and hops into the passenger seat without bothering to ask if he’s welcome. My reservations have reservations where he’s concerned, but Silver’s words of advice have been ringing in my head ever since she said them: You should probably forgive him and move on before you lose him altogether.
I would have had a very different experience in juvie if Zander hadn’t been around. He showed me the ropes and made the infinitely slow passing of time more bearable. He just took a number of cage-rattling hits that were unquestionably meant for me in that practice game. And there’s no doubt about it that as president of the Dreadnaughts MC, Q will do more than kick him out of the club for telling me my father’s plan to jump Silver. That incursion will probably land Zander in a shallow grave just off the five if anyone finds out about it. Q’s been feeding my father information to pass along to the DEA, which means he’s a valuable asset to him. If Zander shared information that in turn compromised the club, then he signed his own death warrant. It doesn’t matter how big or small the transgression, clubs like the Dreadnaughts have a zero-tolerance policy and an equally swift and merciless system for meting out justice.
“Where’s Silver?” Zander asks, fiddling with the radio dial. I resist the urge to slap his hand out of the way.
“Teaching. Guitar lessons.”
“She’s good, huh.” He pulls a Subway footlong out of his bag and opens it, showering the Camaro with crumbs. My vision flashes red, but I bite down hard on my tongue, refusing to gripe about the mess. Zander gives me a wolfish smile, knowing just how badly I want to yell at him. Wordlessly, he offers me half of the sub.
“What is it?”
“Steak and cheese.”
I grunt, taking it from him.
“I saw you guys play at the diner together,” he says, taking a huge bite out of his half. “You were both good.”
That’s surprising. I didn’t see him show up at Harry’s. Didn’t see him sitting at any of the tables or in the booths either. I wasn’t exactly paying attention, though. I had other things on my mind. “Thanks,” I say stiffly.
“You never told me you played when we were in juvie.”
I shrug, taking a bite of the sandwich, hoping he’ll move on and talk about something else.
“There was a guitar in the common room. Two of them, actually. Why didn’t you ever play them?” he asks.
I chew. And I chew. And I chew. Eventually, I have to swallow, and Zander’s still sitting there, waiting for an answer. Fucker. I struggle for a moment to figure out how best to explain, shuttling the St. Christopher around my neck up and down on its chain. “Music’s personal, man. To me, anyway. If I’d picked up one of those guitars in that place, I would have sullied it. I wasn’t myself in there. I wanted to leave that part of me outside of the gates. And…music makes me feel free. Playing in there would have made me feel even more trapped than I already was.”
I wait for the mockery. This is an easy opportunity for him. I basically just handed him my ass on a silver platter, just begging for him to ridicule me for being a little bitch. Zander does nothing but nod, intently studying his steak and cheese sub. “I get it. Makes sense. You’ve got a talent, though, dude. You should definitely share it more often. Now that you are free and all.”
Compliments about my playing have always made me break out in hives. I smash the rest of the sandwich, occupying myself with the act of eating. When I’m done, I start the engine and I say no more about my musical abilities. ‘Whole Lotta Love’ by Led Zeppelin comes on the radio, and Zander turns it up as we pull out of the school parking lot.
“Where we headed?” he asks. I get the impression that our destination doesn’t really matter to Zander. He’s just content to be moving.
“The Rock,” I tell him, in a clipped voice. “It really is about time I paid Monty a visit.”
30
SILVER
I still get paid if a kid’s parents cancel a lesson.
When I arrive at Gregory and Lou’s place, Dr. Coombes hands me three twenty-dollar bills, folded in half, and info
rms me that both the boys have come down with a stomach bug. I try to give him his money back, though. Honestly, I wouldn’t charge him for the boys’ lessons at all if I could get away with it. I’m wracked with guilt every time I teach them, knowing what I know. Their mother was fleeing my mom’s workplace, after seeing Mom half-naked with her legs spread on her boss’ desk, when she careened through that intersection and was smoked by another vehicle. If she hadn’t seen her friend so flagrantly cheating on her husband, she wouldn’t have been driving that recklessly. She’d probably still be alive. By extension, I feel somehow responsible for Gail Coombes’ death.
“No. I respect your time, Silver,” Dr. Coombes says. “You set aside an hour to teach a lesson, so I’ll pay you for it. It’s only right.”
I object, but it’s no good. He makes it impossible for me to refuse his money, which makes me feel like a fucking monster. I get back in the car with a sinking, oily, unpleasant feeling swirling around in my stomach.
Halfway home, I notice that I’m being followed.
Dread begins to churn like a piston below my ribs.
Way too close, riding my tail, the truck is black and gleaming, its windows tinted out, making it impossible to see who’s behind the steering wheel. The vehicle’s expensive. Must have cost a pretty penny. I only know of one family who’d be able to afford a truck like that. Caleb Weaving’s assets were all frozen when he was arrested, but it sounds like he’s been negotiating all kinds of bullshit agreements with the powers that be. If he could swing getting Jake released after everything he did, then it stands to reason that he could also arrange for at least some of his vast fortune be made available to his wife and son.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” There’s no one in the Nova to hear me but it had to be said. Technically Jake isn’t breaking any laws by following me across town, but the way he shadows me, moving from lane to lane, taking every turn I take, is an intimidation tactic for sure.