Bitter Sweet Hell (Hell Night 2)

“I checked Diego’s bank account. He used his card at a gas station in a town about an hour and a half east of here, which is an hour away from San Antonio. That’s the only purchase, so we don’t know where he’s moving next. Could be he’s heading this way, or it was just a coincidence. Either way, I’ve got people keeping an eye out for him in case he strolls into town.”

His jaw is locked tight when he finishes, and the look in his eye is telling. He’s pissed.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask the question that’s been bothering me since he led me into Malus yesterday.

His jaw gets tighter and his brows slant into a scowl.

“Because I’m an officer of the law. It’s my duty to protect people.”

I shake my head, not letting him off the hook. “It’s more than that. If that were the only reason, you would have advised me to go back to San Antonio to file a report. You haven’t done that. You’re wanting to take care of this personally. Why?”

His steps halt and he turns to face me, his expression serious.

“People like Diego make me sick. He deserves whatever justice is brought to him. I just happen to be the guy who wants to make sure he gets it.”

His lips are in a straight line and the muscle in his jaw twitches. Glancing down, I notice his hands balled into fists. His words and posture have me wondering if something happened in his past to make him so passionate about the current subject. Maybe he was close with someone who was abused.

“Come on. I’ll take you back to Trouble’s,” he grunts and spins on his heel.

“What’s up with Trouble’s name?” I inquire, falling into step beside him. “I can’t imagine that’s his real name.”

“It’s not.”

He doesn’t offer more. I try another approach.

“What does JW stand for?”

He’s quiet for so long I think he’s not going to answer.

“John Wayne.”

A laugh escapes my lips before I can stop it. “Really?”

His mouth quirks. “Really.”

“Did your parents name you after the actor or is it a family name?”

The air around us changes, and I look over to find he’s tense again. “No. John Wayne isn’t my real name. It’s a nickname my brothers and I came up with when I was younger because I was a John Wayne fanatic.”

I hold my tongue for a moment, then decide to just spit out my next question. It’s obvious this is a touchy subject for him, so if he doesn’t want to answer, I won’t take offense.

“What’s your real name?” I ask quietly.

Again, he’s silent for so long I think I’m shit out of luck on getting an answer. I’m surprised when he finally does speak.

“Liam.” His eyes cut to me. “But no one calls me that.” His voice is stern, no doubt warning me against using his given name. “All of my brothers go by nicknames instead of the names we were given by our parents.”

I nod and say no more. Whatever their reason is for not using their real names is none of my business, but I can tell from the shift in his body this subject makes him uncomfortable.

A few minutes later, we’re walking up Remi and Trouble’s driveway. Just as we reach the steps, the door opens and Trouble steps outside with Remi behind him.

“I’ll keep you updated on the Diego issue,” JW says, turning to me. “In the meantime, I’d advise you not to use your credit or debit cards. Do you have cash?”

“Yes. I pulled my savings out the day I left.”

“Good.”

“You ready?” Trouble asks, walking down the steps.