Page 25 of Apple of His Eye
“They’re trafficking women,” my brother says the word out loud and it shakes me deep inside. This is what Fran was selling Everleigh into. If it wasn’t for her smarts to run when she did… she could have been one of those eight.
“Who’s eyes do we have on that building right now?”
“Dutch and Pap.”
“Good.” The wheels in my head turn. “Do they know about the vans?”
“I don’t think so. There was a block of time no one could be on site. This happened during that block. You don’t think the Wolves know we’re watching, do you?”
My gut churns at the coincidence of it all. We barely set this operation up two days ago. I know my guys. If they say no one saw them, it’s true.
“I don’t see how they would. Our guys said it was all clear.” I rise to my feet, feeling too eager to sit still. I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “Send out a text. Church, nine a.m. sharp.”
“On it.”
For a moment I wonder if I should call them in now, but I want to test something out. “Do me a favor, call Dutch and Pap pulled back here to the clubhouse. Don’t mention what we’ve learned tonight until we bring it to the table.”
“You think we’ve been compromised?”
“Not yet, I don’t,” I admit, but I know my kid brother can see the worry in the way I’m suddenly uneasy. “Can you watch the live feed?”
He nods, typing a message into his phone. I’m sure to Dutch and Pappy.
I feel sick to my stomach with the realization of what’s been happening under our noses. We thought the Wolves were just running drugs and selling in our territory. Turns out these fuckers are doing much, much worse.
Fuck.
“You better burn it off, before you break something,” Code voices, watching while I pace back and forth, faster and faster as the aggression builds. I want to put my fist into those assholes’ faces. I want to make them hurt for what they’re doing—for what they’ve done. Mosty of all, I want to put them deep in the ground where they can harm another person.
I exit the room without another word and beeline down the hall toward the club gym. Since I can’t take my anger out on the Wolves, a punching bag will have to do for now.
NINE
EVERLEIGH
Istare down at the warm milk in my glass and count the numbers of half-empty bottles of hard liquor sitting on the shelves behind the bar.
Twenty-three… twenty-four…
Damn, how many bottles do they need?I think and continue counting.
I don’t know why I’m counting liquor bottles at two in the morning.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t been able to get my mind to shut down after the performance tonight. Or maybe it’s keeping me from wondering why V didn’t text me back.
He saw the message. I know he did. The little icon at the bottom of my message has his little picture, showing he saw it.
But I got nothing back.
All I know is that it’s too damn dark and quiet for a building that never seems to sleep—and yet, tonight of all nights, there isn’t a soul awake. There’s no one to talk with and fill the deafening silence surrounding me. There’s no one to keep my brain from obsessing over everything V said to me tonight.
Fuck, and he said so much.
I hate how much conviction there was behind his words.
I’m not good to you.
You deserve Prince Charming.