Wretched (Never After Series)

There’s an abandoned warehouse in the middle of Kinland. At least, to the wandering eye, it seems as though it’s abandoned. Being here now, it’s clear that isn’t the case.

Liam, Zeke, and Farrell are all here, along with a few other lower-level associates that I’ve seen in passing but haven’t gotten to know yet. One of them isn’t even in our files, and I make a note to try and find out more about him later. But right now, it doesn’t matter.

What matters are the crates of weapons staring me in the face and making my heart beat out of my chest.

Holy shit.

It’s dark out here, the stars and the beam of the headlights from our cars the only source of light and Zeke grins, popping open the back of the SUV. “Come on, boys, it’s not gonna move itself.”

I lean in toward Liam. “We’re in the gun business now?”

He side-eyes me but doesn’t respond. Clearly, he still isn’t over the other week.

“We need to check ’em, Skip?” he asks, lifting up the top of one of the long wooden crates and peering inside.

Farrell laughs, perching against the bumper of his car, puffing on a Black & Mild. “They’re good.”

Zeke smiles. “Let’s load ’em up.”

I glance around, the burner phone in my pocket sending anxiety racing through me. My guys know we’re here tonight, but we were under the assumption this was going to be a drug pickup. Not guns. We passed on the info to the local PD, hoping a quick bust would ruffle some feathers, maybe get some mouths to talk without letting them know they’ve got the DEA’s attention. But with every second the PD doesn’t show, my anxiety winds tighter.

A phone pings and Farrell drags his cell out, a cloud of smoke swirling around him while he looks down at whatever’s on the screen. His face changes, and his head snaps up, his eyes bouncing from one guy to the next.

My stomach twists.

“Hurry up,” he snaps. “We’ve got company. Ten minutes out.”

My heart stalls, dropping to the ground. Is there… does he have a connection in the PD?

Of fucking course he does.

I grip one of the crates, my muscles burning as I carry it to the back of the SUV and load it in the trunk, my eyes scanning the area every few seconds, willing the cops to appear. The guns are heavy as fuck and clunky as hell, but it gives me something to do besides focus on the fact that somehow Farrell knows people are on their way.

“Company?” I ask, swiping my hand through my hair.

Farrell walks over to me, resting a hand on my shoulder, his eyes penetrating as they stare directly into mine. “You and those questions.” He puffs on his cigar before letting the smoke blow in my face. “Just like my ma, yeah? Always so many fucking questions.”

Blood races through my veins, my fingers twitching as I debate whether I need to pull my gun. I swallow, shrugging my shoulders. “Just trying to be the best at what I do, Skip.”

“Hmm.” His grip tightens. “Knowledge is power and all that?”

“Exactly.” I grin.

He brings the Black & Mild up to his mouth again and grins around it, his teeth chomping into the filtered tip. “Good man. Now shut the fuck up and load my shit.” Spinning away from me, he gestures toward his car. “Zeke, let’s go. Now.”

My muscles are frozen in place, my heart slamming against my ribs.

 Jesus Christ.

Zeke looks back toward us, one leg already in the driver’s side of Farrell’s car. “If you fucks get pulled in, I’ll kill you myself.”

His eyes meet mine and hold for just a second too long. I jerk my chin, hoping it gives him a sense of safety, one that I definitely don’t feel. Because the truth is, while I wish I could guarantee Zeke’s safety, I can’t. Not when I can’t even guarantee my own.

I watch as red taillights disappear into the distance, going over a hill until they disappear entirely.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Liam yells. “Get over here and help. For the love of God, it’s like you’ve got no sense in your fuckin’ head.”

My heart hammers in my chest and I spin around, realizing there are still a dozen crates in the warehouse, but the boys have stopped loading. One of them slams the trunk down and runs to the driver’s side door.

Liam has a gas can that he’s rushing toward the warehouse with.

Where the hell did that come from? 

He starts pouring the gasoline along the perimeter, dousing the grassy areas. I stand still, my mind racing as I try to figure out how I can keep this from happening.

I glance behind me, hoping like hell that I see cars coming around the bend, but I don’t.

Liam waltzes up to me, wiping his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his arm. Then he tosses me a box of matches. “Light it up for me, yeah?”

I look down to the matches and over to the warehouse before meeting Liam’s eyes. “But there’re still crates.”

“Cost of doing business with rats, huh?” He shrugs.

Fuck. 

If the warehouse burns down, it burns all the evidence with it. But if I don’t… I meet Liam’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, rook?” He smirks, his eyes calculating as they take me in. “Nervous?”

I pull out the match and jog over to the building, striking it against the box and flicking it onto the grass that lines the perimeter.

Immediately, it goes up in flames.

Turning away, I rush back, the SUV already peeling out of the lot, gravel flying from beneath its tires. Liam’s in his car, revving the engine. My lungs burn as I run to the passenger side and slide in, right as he starts to pull away.

Flames and smoke rise from behind us and we’re gone before there’s even a hint of my guys on the scene.

But I already know what they’ll find.

Absolutely nothing.

Two hours later and we’re in the basement of The Yellow Brick, the silence heavy as it presses in on everything around us. Everyone is on edge, including me, but I can’t help letting my mind wander. Farrell is sitting at the head of the exact table I fucked his daughter on two nights ago. And I haven’t seen her since.

“I want to know,” Farrell starts, his voice low and lethal. “Who the fuck tipped off the cops? Who’s stupid enough to not realize I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere?”

Nobody says a word.

Farrell shoots up from his seat, slamming his fist on the wood. “No one’s got shit to say?”

Liam glares at me from across the room, and anxiety winds its way around my chest and squeezes, making my heart beat double time.

The basement door swings open, the sound of heels clacking on the stairs, but even if I couldn’t hear her footsteps, I’d know Eveline was here. As stupid as it sounds, I swear to god I can feel her.

She walks past me and heads straight toward her dad, not even sparing me a glance.

“What happened?” Her voice is sharp.

“A fucking rat, is what happened,” Farrell spits.

Her brows rise and she peers around the room, her gaze lingering on mine, and fuck my stomach for flipping the way it does.

Suddenly, there’s cold metal pressed against my forehead, making my temperature spike and my muscles tense.

I look up at Liam, his gun pushing into my skin. “Get your fucking gun out of my face.”

He chuckles. “No chance, rook. Not until you prove it ain’t you.”

Leaning back in my chair, I smirk, although bile teases the back of my throat. “I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

Farrell sits forward, his eyes sharp when they land on me, and I already know from our earlier interaction at the warehouse he won’t be any help.

Eveline crosses her arms, looking lazily at the scene, as if she couldn’t care less that someone is ten seconds away from shoving a bullet through my brain. Most likely, she’s wishing it could be her that does it.

“You expect us to believe that you show up and suddenly we’ve got a leak?” he spits, pressing his gun against me harder.

My head tilts to the side from the force and I grimace. “Pretty defensive for someone who’s got nothing to hide, Liam. How do we know it isn’t you?”

My eyes meet Zeke’s across the room where he leans against the wall with his arms crossed and his jaw tensed, not saying a word.

He’s nervous.

“It’s not him.” Eveline’s voice is sharp and strong.

“Of course it’s not me,” Liam says.

“Not you, moron.” Eveline’s eyes narrow and she waves a hand toward me. “It’s not him.”

Liam’s nostrils flare.

“How do you know, Bug?” Farrell asks.

She walks up to me, her stare holding mine, and even in this fucked-up situation, my stomach flips as she catches my gaze. She cocks her head as she stands next to Liam, whose gun is still pressed against my head.

I smile at her.

She frowns in response. “I already ran a check on him. He is who he says he is. Besides, I’ve had him tailed for weeks.”

My chest twists, surprise washing over me. What the fuck? 

No way she’s been following me. If she has, then she’d know I was at that motel, and if she knows that, why would she be saying I’m not the rat?

“Liam,” she continues. “I know he hurt your ego the other night when you guys played ‘whose dick is bigger,’ but you don’t get to kill one of our guys just because you don’t like him.”

He adjusts his hold on the gun, the metal clinking beneath his grip. “He’s the rat, Evie. I’m telling you.”

I see her slip her hand up her thigh before anyone else does, and in a few seconds flat she has her Desert Eagle pressed beneath his chin.

“He’s not,” she says calmly.

His eyes flick down to her. “Really, Evie? All these years you’ve known me and you stand up for this guy?”

She grins, flipping off the safety.

“Liam,” Farrell interjects. “Round up every motherfucker who knew what was happening tonight and bring them to me.” He looks to Eveline. “You got that fancy thing your mystery friend made, yeah? The one that scans for wires? Bring it.”

My insides go wild, anxiety eating through every tendon. A thing that scans for wires? How the fuck?

Liam’s jaw clenches, his arm trembling as he keeps his gun aimed at my head. I hold eye contact, even though everything in me wants to look over to Eveline. To see how fucking sexy she looks while she defends my honor in the face of a man she’s known for years.

My stomach rolls, knowing I don’t deserve it.

Finally, he drops the weapon and Eveline steps back, spinning toward her dad. A maniacal gleam enters her eyes, and my Eveline disappears in a second.

And just like that, I’m reminded that she isn’t on my side at all.