Page 2 of Wild Devil
“Knowing what Frey does, how long do you think they’ll keep her around? The bastard’s already killed one of his children.” And I may have failed Hale, but I refuse to lose Frey. “We need to be proactive.”
“We are. I’m almost done going through the journal. See?” Snatching the item from the table, he brandishes it in a fist. “All we need is to find this Jamie Colland guy?—”
“For a reporter, he’s a tricky motherfucker to pin down,” a different voice cuts in.
I whirl around. As if he appeared from thin air, a six-foot-tall figure leans against the wall in a corner of the warehouse, arms crossed, green eyes watchful. “I couldn’t even get a visual on him,” he adds with a shrug. “Looks like he’s gone dark on all of his socials, too.”
“When the fuck did you get back, Damien?” I ask him, but that’s not important. “How is Frey? Has Kane seen her?”
“Easy with the twenty questions! I didn’t learn much.” He throws up his hands in surrender, but his cocky grin reveals he hasn’t come up entirely short. “I tracked down his address, but he isn’t there—and it’s not hard to figure out why. His place is being surveilled by the Saints. Looks like we aren’t the only ones interested in what he has to say.”
I grit my teeth. “Ah, fuck. We need to find him.” If Silas is on the same trail, that task just got ten times harder.
“Your girl keeps strange company,” Damien adds, his expression unreadable.
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Kane says she’s got at least six guards on her, but they seem on edge—more than they should be. It reminded him of the setup for an ambush, but you know how it is—you do one tour too many in the Middle East, and suddenly everyone’s a suicide bomber?—”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I ask. The worst potential reasons are already dancing across my mind.
She will be killed before this is over.
“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Damien smirks. The threat of violence excites the motherfucker—even if it’s at my expense. Then he frowns and cocks his head, suddenly serious. “His concern makes sense. Heywood’s only visited her once before scurrying back to that mansion. Why not keep her there? Unless it’s the ol’ bait and switch. Distract your enemy with a smokescreen, while concealing your true aim within the chaos. Kane would guess an I.E.D., but I’m sure this Heywood fellow would go for something a little more subtle than that?—”
“Like Frey,” Ben insists with a know-it-all frown. “She’s the distraction. You get sidetracked now, and you might as well slit your own throat, Day. Tell me you can’t see that.”
“You might have a point,” I admit, hating my own words. This sounds like defeat, a hopeless admission that I can’t get her back. Or maybe it’s the first fucking coherent thought I’ve had all day. “Let’s say she is a decoy.” I turn around in time to see Ben’s reaction.
Slowly, he nods along as if following the same train of thought. “Alright. Keep talking.”
What else would I do in Heywood’s shoes? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the obvious answer.
“If I were him, that’s the only reason why I’d keep her at the church,” I spit out. “As a decoy. The real question to ask is what he doesn’t want me to see. What are we missing?”
Ben strokes his chin without offering up an answer.
“Why don’t we swing by that mansion?” Damien suggests, his lips quirked. Damn. I know that look—he’s up to something.
Still, his hunch is the best one we’ve got. “Why?”
“Heywood doesn’t strike me as the type to spend a quiet evening at home while his daughter is held captive across town,” he says.
“Hmm.” Ben continues to stroke his chin. Then he jerks his head toward me. “Why does he even give a shit about you anyway? You’re a fly in his orbit. He can’t fear some crazy ex-gangbanger with no real crew or territory to back him up.”
“Jesus, Ben, enough with the compliments,” I say with a scoff. “I might get a bigger ego than I already have.”
“Hey! I’m just playing along. It’s your job to answer my questions. So, tell me why.”
“Let’s hear it, Day,” Damien rests his head against the wall, his gaze shrouded in shadow. “What could be more important to the bastard than winning the election or punishing his pretty, disobedient daughter?”
My eyes narrow at the offhand compliment, but I focus on the task at hand first. “Something must be going down soon,” I surmise. “Something he can’t risk putting off. Maybe a meeting with Silas? Or even the cartel. If I were him, I’d think I’d be too busy trying to play hero to give a damn about anything else.”
“Alright.” Ben rakes a hand through his dark hair, highlighting the purple bruises beneath his eyes. I’m sure I look just as wrecked. He hasn’t slept since yesterday morning, but like a true ride-or-die, he’s here when I need him most. “We should check with your cartel contact. Ask if anything unusual has been happening. I know they keep tabs on the docks where their merchandise comes in. Maybe they’ve seen something?”
“For that information, they’ll probably want something in return,” Damien pitches in. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just attack the church on our own and call it a day?”
I’m sure as hell down with that plan of action, or I would have been… Before Frey. No longer am I the only one in the arena, watching my own back. I have a crew to lead now.