Reign (The Sainthood - Boys of Lowell High #3)(106)

“You don’t trust these guys,” Saint says, spinning around in the driver’s seat.

“I trust few people and definitely not a group of this size. Many of these men are unknowns, so tread carefully.” His somber gaze roams between us.

“What else do we need to know?” I ask.

“Don’t mention the recording we have of Sinner and the board instructing you to kill the commissioner.”

“Because you don’t trust everyone or it’s something else?” Theo asks, leaning forward on his elbows.

“We need to be cautious, and until this goes down, I don’t know if we can trust anyone with that intel.”

“We keep it to ourselves. Got it,” Galen says.

“What about the FBI agent? He’ll be here, right?” Diesel nods. “Did you meet him the other night?” I inquire.

“Yes. He’s a good guy, and I believe him when he says he’s on our side. He was only assigned to this case eight months ago, which is a little unusual for a man who’s been an agent for less than four years. But I did some digging, and he graduated top of his class from Quantico, and he continues to impress his bosses, so they gave him a high-profile case in the hopes he would crack it.”

“Why didn’t he tell you Giana was recruited as an FBI informant?” Galen asks.

“There was a good reason for that, but I’m not at liberty to disclose it.”

I exchange suspicious looks with my husbands before clearing my throat and focusing on Diesel. “I thought we agreed to share everything? That we’re a team?”

“We are a team.” He lets his gaze fall on each one of us. “And I’ve told you things that could get me fired. This is political, and it doesn’t impact what we’re doing. If I felt you needed to know, I would tell you.”

I peer into his earnest eyes, and I believe him. The guys are all staring at me, letting me decide. “Okay. If you say we don’t need to know, we don’t need to know.”

His shoulders relax in obvious relief. “Thank you.”

“Anything else?” Saint glances at the time on his cell.

“Let me do most of the talking, and only speak if you’re asked a direct question.”

“Then why the fuck are we here?” Caz asks, checking his weapon.

“You’re here because I insisted you play a part, but that doesn’t mean any of these people trust you or respect you.”

“Wow. That’s reassuring,” Galen snarks, twiddling his brow ring.

“I’m telling you how it is.” Diesel’s tone brooks no argument. “You’re all members of the very organization we are trying to take down.”

“We’re fucking helping you do it,” Saint barks, glaring daggers at Diesel like this is his fault.

“And that is how I secured your presence here and got overall agreement. But you are still kids, and—”

“We’re fucking eighteen,” Saint hisses, leaning forward in his seat. He jabs his finger at Diesel. “We’re adults, not kids.”

“Galen is only seventeen,” Diesel reminds us. “And it wasn’t meant as an insult.” He stabs Saint with a serious look. “I know your value. I know you are not like normal eighteen-year-olds. I know you are all razor-sharp and that your reasons for taking The Sainthood down are legit and why. I trust you.” Tension splinters the air. “I trust all of you, but that’s because I’m around you and I’ve learned to trust you.”

That statement is fucking monumental, and I could kiss Diesel for his loyalty.

“Thank you,” Theo says. “And we trust you too.”

Diesel’s eyes lift in challenge, pinning in one obvious direction.

“We do,” Saint agrees after a few silent beats. “Because you’ve proven that to us too.”

“Can I just say how fucking proud I am of all of you.” I beam like a gratified Mother Hen. “And you’ve no idea how happy it makes me that you’re all getting on.”

“Don’t throw a party yet,” Saint drawls. “We won’t be holding hands and singing “Kumbaya” around the campfire anytime soon.”

“Challenge accepted.” I fold my arms and purse my lips, fighting a smile.

“Entertaining as this is, we need to move our asses,” Diesel says, dropping his arms and straightening up. “And don’t bother carrying weapons. They’ll just confiscate them.”

Saint is grumbling over the no-weapons order as we stash our guns and knives in the trunk.

“Don’t worry, dude,” Caz says, cracking his knuckles and flexing his biceps. “This body is the best weapon known to man. I’m all you need.”

Saint rolls his eyes, a hint of a smile threatening his lips.

We trail Diesel into the hardware store, following him as he crosses the room toward the single door at the rear. He punches in a code on the keypad, and we walk through the door in single file, moving along a narrow corridor and down three flights of stairs.

A man wearing military fatigues with a rifle strapped across his shoulder escorts us into the underground facility hidden beneath the industrial park. It’s massive down here, and we go through various security checkpoints before we’re escorted, on electronic carts, to a conference room where the others are waiting.