Reaper's Legacy(75)

“Why haven’t they processed the DNA?”

“Good question,” she said. “New excuse every day. Fucking prosecutors.”

Huh …

I didn’t know where to put that, so I fell quiet. What I didn’t do was get up or look away, because while I’d only met Maggs recently, I believed her. She wasn’t stupid and she wasn’t weak.

Scary to think the system could be so corrupt.

“They definitely screwed Bolt,” Marie said, plopping down next to us. “But the local prosecutors aren’t all bad. I got off on self-defense last year, after things went down with my brother.”

I glanced over at her, curious, but she seemed lost in thought. That story could wait for another day, I decided. If we had another day. The girls were being supportive, but whether they’d be friends long-term was iffy. I got the impression that once you left the club, you were out … and I was out before I’d even gotten in.

We settled in to talk about other, happier things as the sky darkened. By nine, the kids were all gone and things started getting wilder. The music went up and women’s shirts started coming off, none of which fazed my new friends. Then the guys started a big bonfire and broke out a fresh keg. Couples started disappearing into the darkness. I tried not to look too closely, afraid Ruger had already found someone new to screw. He was free to do whatever the hell he wanted. Didn’t mean I needed to watch.

That seemed like my cue to leave, except I still hadn’t talked to Buck about a job. The more I thought about working at The Line, the less realistic it seemed. Maybe I should just let it go … I mentioned this as I helped Marie, Maggs, and Em clean up the food tables. Dancer had taken her boys to her mom’s house a while ago and hadn’t gotten back yet.

“Why don’t you talk to Buck and decide after that?” Maggs suggested, piling half-eaten bags of chips into a cardboard box. “I’ll help you find him. Let’s get this finished first, though. All this shit needs to go into the kitchen.”

“Here, give me the box,” Marie said, reaching for it. “Sophie, can you grab that other one?”

“Sure,” I said, picking it up. Marie was really sweet—she’d spent half the night talking about her wedding, which was just three weeks away. She’d made it very clear that she wanted me to come, no matter what was up with Ruger.

Now I followed her into the Armory through a back door, leading past a set of bathrooms into the large kitchen area. It wasn’t anything special—not a professional kitchen. Still big, though, like you’d find in a church. Three fridges, lots of counter space, and a big, round garbage can that had overflowed onto the floor.

We both stopped, staring at it.

“Jesus, I cannot believe what pigs these boys can be,” she muttered. “Take the f*cking garbage out when it’s full. Doesn’t take a genius.”

“You think we can handle it?” I asked, considering the can. It was packed hard and looked heavy.

“Only one way to find out,” she replied. We set down the food, stuffed in as much of the spilled garbage as possible, and then each grabbed a side. It wasn’t easy, but we wrestled it out through the kitchen and into the main lounge of the Armory, which I hadn’t seen yet.

“Holy shit,” I said to Marie, eyes wide. The place was full of men drinking and women walking around all but naked. There was a bar with a naked chick giving body shots. My eyes skittered away only to land on another girl whose head bobbed up and down over a man’s lap. He sat on a ratty couch, leaning back with his eyes closed, one hand wrapped tight in her hair.

“Just ignore it,” Marie muttered, rolling her eyes. “Bunch of dumbasses. The Dumpster’s out in the front, across from the parking lot. The geniuses who designed this place didn’t put in many external doors. Built to be a fortress. Annoying as hell.”

We lugged the garbage across the room, and I felt my cheeks burning. Then a man came up and grabbed the heavy can on my side.

“You girls should’ve asked for help,” he said, smiling at me. He was kind of cute, I realized. A little older—probably in his thirties. He had a long beard, tattoos (they all had tattoos, I figured it must be in the bylaws or something), and he wore a cut with one of those little diamond 1% patches. His name read “D.C.”

“Thanks,” Marie said brightly. “Grab the door for us, will you, Soph?”

I opened the big main door leading out into the front parking lot. There were more guys out there, sort of standing around—the guys I’d seen earlier, who didn’t have very many patches on their vests.