Page 37 of Wicked Truths
The caller ID doesn’t have a contact name. It only shows a local number.
“Hello?” I ask as I put the call on speaker.
“Good afternoon. Is this Francesca Marino?”
“It is.” I say cautiously.
“This is Maria calling about your grocery delivery for today. Unfortunately, we don’t have a driver, so I was wondering if you wanted me to refund your order, or if you wanted to come pick it up? I can give you a discount for your troubles.”
That changes my evening plans a bit, but I need groceries.
“I can come pick them up. It’s no problem.”
“Thank you for understanding. I’ll start getting your order together now.”
I hang up the phone and stare at my screen. Who am I going to ask? I don’t have a car and the store is too far to walk, so that’s not an option.
I open my messages and text Rhett.
Are you still at the arena?
He immediately responds.
Depends. What’s up?
I dial his number, and he immediately answers.
“Hey, Chessie. What’s up?”
“Sorry if I’m interrupting anything. I just figured this would be a lot easier than explaining my problem through texts.”
His tone changes, sounding worried. “What’s going on? Are you in trouble?”
“The grocery store just called and said they don’t have a delivery driver today, so they can’t deliver my groceries. Can you give me a ride to the store so I can pick them up? I know it’s almost dinnertime, so if you already have plans, I can call a taxi.”
“Meet me out front of the apartment building in five minutes.” Without waiting for my reply, he hangs up.
I gather my keys and wallet before slipping on my sandals. I opt for the stairs just in case the elevator is slow.
Rhett pulls up in his truck a minute later. Getting in the passenger seat, I see he’s wearing lounge shorts and a t-shirt.
“Thank you for doing this for me.”
He grunts in response, clearly not in the mood to talk to me. I don’t really blame him, though. I’ve avoided him since the incident on Monday.
But he’s going to have to get over that because I was partly busy dealing with his shit and trying to find any information on the club.
I wait until he’s driving on the main road to turn in my seat and look at him. “So, what’s the deal with King’s Empire?”
His jaw ticks and his hand wraps tighter around the steering wheel.
“Come on. You can tell me. I’ve already found out some stuff already.”
Still nothing. His jaw is clenched, and his knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel so hard.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll find someone else that will. I’m bound to find out more, with or without your help. You would be making my life less hectic and stressful if you just told me what you know.”
He glances toward me. “Look, I know how stubborn you are, but you don’t want to get involved with the club.”