If Hawke’s mom feared her love for him, then Hawke is his father’s son, because it’s hard to not let him get to me.
I take out my phone, remembering my sister hasn’t gotten back to me yet.
Text me back, I type out to her.
I haven’t talked to her since the day before yesterday. Something feels wrong.
I tap out a message to my mother, but then I stop and delete it. I can’t trust her not to give my number to Reeves or Hugo, and then they can find me anytime.
Instead, I text Hawke. He’s here somewhere, but I just need to make sure, since Bianca won’t reply.
My stepdad is still in lockup, right?
I need to make sure Bianca doesn’t have to deal with him, at least.
His reply is almost immediate. Yeah, why?
Just checking. Thx.
And I breathe out a sigh of relief.
But then I look up. I spot a distressed, brown leather jacket off on the sidelines that’s all too familiar.
I slouch down, bowing my head. Shit. I should get in the back seat.
Fuck.
Reeves moves in my peripheral vision, and while I don’t have to worry about my stepdad, Reeves is still a threat. What the hell is he doing here?
But of course, he’s here. If Hawke and I show our faces, this is where we’ll do it.
Muffled laughter and music go off outside, and I pretend to play on my phone, like a sitting duck.
I stare at the screen, but he moves, farther to my left, and farther and farther until he’s moving around the front of the car, and I close my eyes, feeling sick.
Son of a bitch. Dylan’s door opens, and he slides into her seat, the commotion from the crowd pouring inside the vehicle, but everyone’s too distracted to notice us here. He slams the door shut, cutting off the noise, and I squeeze my fists, itching to pull the handle on my door and run.
He turns down the music. “Hi, Aro.”
I start to text Hawke, but Reeves grabs my phone.
“I don’t get to see you like this much,” he taunts.
I glance over, seeing him looking me up and down, the short jean shorts and hoodie, my hair in two French braids. Different from the jacket, jeans, and hats that I wore before. I didn’t want attention at Green Street, especially his.
He gazes at my legs. “I knew it was there all along, though.”
He tosses something into my lap, and I look down, picking up the tiny camera. Like the one Tommy planted at the garage.
My heart feels like it doubles in size, trying to push through my sternum.
“I’m guessing you put that at Green Street?” he asks.
Me, he says. So, he doesn’t know about Tommy’s role. I exhale a little.
“And since I was in on Wednesday, collecting, he has me on video, then.” He stares out the front windshield, his hand on the wheel like we’re going somewhere. “Right?”
I look over at him. What is he talking about?
He was in on Wednesday? Hawke has the leverage we need?
“He hasn’t gone to my superiors with it,” Reeves says, “so he wants something. What does he want?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He’s lying. Hawke would’ve told me. It’s been days. Why would he sit on that footage if he had it?
But Reeves shakes his head. “I have two choices here, Aro. Haul your ass to jail and let you disappear from there. You’d rot the rest of your life away in a concrete cage with filthy women and face tattoos…” He looks over at me. “And Bianca all to myself.”
Fuck you.
“Or you can come home,” he tells me. “I won’t kill you. I make nothing with a dead body.”
“If you think I will ever let you slave me out…”
“Oh, Aro.” He looks at me like I’m a child. “What tales have the boys been spinning? I’m not that evil.”
Then what? If Hawke has him, then why isn’t he going after Hawke?
“You’re going to run Green Street,” Reeves informs me.
I go still, and he smiles in a soft way I’ve never seen before. “I’ve always liked you,” he tells me. “Hugo won’t take it well, though, and while I know there’s no love lost, you don’t want him dead. So come home. You can protect him from me. Move back to your mother’s house. You’ll have the muscle to keep your stepdad away and the money to keep your mother happy.”
“For what?” I blurt out. “What do you want?”
I don’t want to run drugs anymore. I never did. And I certainly don’t want Hugo’s place. My life expectancy will decrease by half, and it’s already not high.
He simply looks at me. “You just have to pay me back.”
With what?
And that’s when it occurs to me. He’s not dealing with Hawke for a reason. Hawke can’t know.
“I’m not stealing anything from JT Racing,” I state.