Page 7 of Damaged & Deadly

“Well?” I ask, hoping he’s got some answers. It might not fix anything, though it would be something.

He sighs and reaches across the table to grab the whiskey, taking a large swig. That can’t bode well for whatever he’s got to say. He collapses back in the chair, his legs spread wide as he musses his hair up even more, pulling on the ends. “Not really sure,” he begins. “There was some sort of shoot-out at the school. Tank and Rampage were busy trying to get some of the other kids to safety. They thought Luc was with them, but at some point during the chaos, he disappeared. They thought he’d maybe gone back in to help or something, but they were still looking for him when I phoned them.”

“Fuuuck.” I run my hand over my face. “Are they okay?”

“Yeah. They’re fine. I don’t think anyone was injured.”

I mull that over for a second. “You think it was a distraction?”

His lips purse. “Yeah. It’s gotta be.”

“Well, we know for a fact that there are no Antonellis attending the school.”

“Which means it was the Grim Bastards,” Oliver finishes in a deadpan tone. I return his cool stare with a flat one of my own, both of us understanding what this means.

“So, Grim is working with the Antonellis,” I say aloud, putting words to what we both already know. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. After a moment of deliberation, I snort and shake my head. “So much for a fucking truce.”

“We knew that was bullshit. We’ve just been waiting for him to make the first move to prove that… and I guess this is it.”

My lips flatten and I lose myself in my thoughts while we pass the whiskey bottle back and forth until it’s empty. Of course, we knew that truce was bullshit, but why even bother? Was Grim just trying to lower our defenses, lure us into a false sense of security? But why? He had access to Luc at the school anyway. We just never knew he was a threat. Unless he was hedging his bets in case shit went sideways today with the Antonellis. That sounds more like it. If he fucked up and incurred the wrath of the Antonellis, he’d probably have come begging us to help him get out of it—the pathetic shitstain that he is.

“Have you heard anything from her?” Oliver eventually asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I shake my head. “No. You?”

“No.”

I hesitate, unable to meet his eye while saying, “Red phoned me the other night.” I absolutely should have told him this before we went out today. “Asked me to let Dante and Enzo live.”

His brows hitch. “Did you agree?”

“Fuck, O,” I sigh, scrubbing my hand over my beard. “You shoulda heard her. There was no way I could have said no.”

The look he gives me very clearly sayswell, it would have been nice to have known that,but I shrug it off. It’s not like it made any difference anyway.

“Why, though?” I question. “Why would she ask that of me?”

“I dunno, man.” Oliver shakes his head, apparently having no more of a clue than I do. “I’m not sure what’s going on with her and them.”

My hand tightens into a fist on the table just thinking aboutanythinggoing on between them. In spite of his calm facade, I see the twitch in his jaw, giving away his true feelings. The thought of our girl with them sits about as well with him as it does with me. If anything, it’s even more reason to get her away from them and back here.

Our plans have gone to shit now, anyway. There’s no reason for her to stay there. We can get her out then rescue Luc and devise a plan B. Something that doesn’t involve Red putting herself at risk.

“Man, she’s not going to agree to that. She won’t risk Luc’s life,” Oliver unhelpfully contributes when I voice my thoughts aloud. An ominous look darkens his features. “Besides, I don’t thinkhe’dlet her go.”

“What makes you say that?”

He cocks an eyebrow, looking at me like I’m dense. “Would you?”

Well, fuck, he’s got a point there.

***

Buzz, buzz… Buzz, buzz.

I groan as I roll over, my hand flailing to find my phone as I try to pry open my eyes. What fucking time is it? I must have only passed out a couple of hours ago after Oliver and I went through another bottle of whiskey.

“What?” I grumble groggily down the line.