Bain threw down his breakfast sandwich, crossed his arms over his loose tie, and peered up at me as I leaned forward on the table.
“Never heard of him.”
I shut my eyes, blocking out the red that was beginning to coat my vision. Stay calm. My fingers tingled, and something tore through my chest that I wanted so badly to give an outlet to, but instead, I opened my eyes yet again and saw that Bain was looking at me with a leery gaze. He was waiting for me to strike, but I wouldn’t.
“I’ll ask you again. Who the fuck is Slave?”
He was good, I’d give him that. Bain knew how to react nine times out of ten. He was raised the same as we were—thrown into a multi-million-dollar business of illegal gun selling, amongst other things. Bain could keep a poker face, just like me. But this time? He stayed silent, and his jaw angled in that haughty way of his.
“The fact that you didn’t respond tells me you’ve heard the name.”
His temples flexed as I leaned away and glanced at the opening dining-hall doors. I stepped away, putting space between us, and that was when he said, “Rule number one of the business, Cade—which I’m surprised to learn you’ve already forgotten with Daddy locked up—don't poke around in shit that doesn’t concern you, because chances are, you’ll be putting a target on your back, too.”
I laughed in a menacing way as I dropped my head. “Everything about Journey concerns me, and if there’s something there, I’m going to put myself right in the fucking middle.”
Our steely gazes crashed, and there was something hidden there. There was a heeding intuition that wanted to pull me closer and extract information out of his fucked-up brain, but instead, I turned around and spotted Journey walking to our table with her pretty eyes set on me with questions I knew she wanted answered.