Page 109 of Tormented
“No problem.” Rooster raises two fingers and flicks them toward the house. “Set to work, boys.”
The dark-haired kid and the hostile head indoors with what look like, and smell like, canisters of gasoline in their hands.
“Message me the coordinates when you’ve got the bodies sorted.”
“You have names?” Rooster asks, frowning.
“Yeah.” Sawyer reaches out for me, and I rise off the step. He tugs me into his side. “We found their ID downstairs.”
“Good.” Rooster gives us each a tight nod in turn. “Leave the rest to us. Y’all enjoy the rest of your day.”
He heads indoors, taking the entrance steps in one great stride. I snap my attention back to Sawyer when he gives the arm looped around my shoulders a squeeze. “How about breakfast, huh?”
“Perfect.” I smile, thankful that as dysfunctional and horrific as the night’s been, I can always find comfort in the least expected of places.
Sawyer slips his arm off my shoulders and takes my hand in his, leading us down the driveway. I glance back over my shoulder at the house, so unassuming from the outside.
“What have they got the gasoline for? Will they burn it down?”
Sawyer shrugs. “I wouldn’t have—draws too much attention when you start doin’ shit like that—but who knows for sure. Tuck might have other plans for the property.”
“How long have you known?”
He glances down at me, holding my gaze as he frowns. “About the girls?”
I nod.
“Long time, Abbey-girl. Trafficking ain’t anything new.”
“I know, but have the Devil’s Breed been doing it for long? I never knew. I mean . . . King wouldn’t have anything to do with Tuck if he knew, right?”
“Tuck doesn’t sell them.” He gives my hand a little squeeze, his lips turned up in a small smile. “He sets them free.”
“He buys them back?”
Sawyer nods. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Long story, girl, and one that’s his to tell, not mine.”
“But he was affected personally by it, right?”
“Yeah, he was.”
I walk with him in silence, thinking things over. Surely Cash wasn’t the only guy Tuck had involvement with? Maybe this could be the breakthrough I need.
“How many contacts does Tuck have?”
“Why you ask?” His irises glow bright in the sunshine as he looks my face over.
“I wonder if he can search for someone, for me.” I look away, unable to hold his gaze anymore. I’ve never divulged my full story to a single soul: not Fingers, not Hooch, and not even Apex or King. The men have had tidbits fed to them on a need-to-know basis, but there isn’t a single soul at the Fallen Aces, or anywhere for that matter, who knows the truth.
Only my mother.
If she’s still alive.
A quiet, barely discernible rumble sounds from beside me. “I can take care of it,” he snaps.