Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1)(41)

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “I saw him earlier today. He was at Charlie’s, and he was in a small group of guys—about four. One guess who they were.”

I tensed but forced a nonchalant shrug, even though I had a feeling I knew exactly who they were. After all, I’d seen it yesterday, too, even though I didn’t want to admit it. “I have no idea.”

“Bitter Hill.”

I froze midreach, dread hitting the bottom of my stomach like a f*cking anvil. All the suspicion, all the doubts . . . yeah. They’d just blown up in my face. “Shit.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chris said, his voice so low I almost didn’t hear him. He glanced around the empty store before continuing on. “They were in the corner, whispering and drinking. And I saw money exchanged. Looks like he’s been watching you and decided to use the enemy to take care of his own issues. If Bitter Hill takes you out, no one will suspect him. Especially after what you did to them. It’s ingenious, really. Don’t you think?”

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, grabbing vodka off the shelf.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. It was a text from Heidi. Don’t forget the grenadine.

I jotted off a fast reply. I won’t. Almost done.

It felt weird typing that to someone who was waiting for me to come home. Weird . . . but not in a bad way. She’d cooked dinner for me. No one had cooked a meal for me since before Ma got sick. After she died, I’d had to take over the duty. Someone had to feed Scotty, because he sure as hell hadn’t been about to do it himself. Through trial and error, I’d taught myself. And I’d become pretty damn good at it, too.

But Heidi had cooked for me.

I tucked my phone away. When I glanced up, Chris was watching me with a frown. “What?” I snapped, grabbing a bottle of rum, too.

“You just smiled at a text message like a little girl, right after I told you something that should have you breaking shit.” He shifted on his feet, something shadowing his eyes. “What the hell is up with you, man?”

Had I smiled? I hadn’t even noticed. I yanked down some Pucker before grabbing another. “I wasn’t smiling at the message. I was smiling at the thought of ripping your throat out with my bare hands.”

“While drinking an appletini?” Chris rolled his eyes. “Yeah. So threatening, man.”

“How do you know this Pucker shit goes into an appletini?”

He lifted a shoulder. “They’re good, when you’re in the mood for something sweet. I’m not ashamed.”

We both laughed.

He sobered first.

“Look, Lucas, it’s going down. You should really come up with a plan of defense. Go to Tate and tell—”

I stiffened. “No.”

“But—”

“No.” I slammed a bottle of grenadine in the basket. “I’m not ratting out my little brother. End of story.”

“Even if he kills you?”

“If he kills me, there will be no need to decide anything at all.” I grabbed the last bottle I needed before heading for the register. “Problem solved.”

Chris made an angry sound I couldn’t even begin to describe. “That’s not funny.”

“I never said it was,” I snapped. “But I won’t turn on him.”

“Fine, then.” He held his hands out. “Tell me your plan. Go on. Let me hear it. I’m sure it’s brilliant as hell, right?”

I stayed silent, because I didn’t have one. Not yet.

I’d only just accepted that he was actually trying to pop me.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he said, his tone hard. “You’re just going to be the dutiful older brother you’ve always been, and what? Hold the target on your chest so he can aim properly when he kills you, and praise him on his aim as you fall to the ground?”

“Better that than dying slow. Don’t underestimate the importance of a clean shot.”

Chris slammed his fist on the counter. “Luc.”

I knew why he was frustrated. I got it. But if he thought I hadn’t been racking my brain nonstop over the past day and a half over what the hell to do about this whole mess, then he didn’t know me at all. It had been all I’d been thinking about.

But I didn’t know what to f*cking do about it.

“I’ll fix it, damn it,” I growled.

“There’s nothing to fix. You can’t cure him from being a jackass.”

I smirked. “I dunno. With advancements in modern science, there’s gotta be a pill for it by now. Maybe I’ll ask around.”

“Whatever. Go ahead. Let him kill you. I won’t come to your funeral.” Chris pushed off the counter and strode toward the door. “Asshole.”

After he left, the cashier came up, and I paid for my items. As I walked down the sidewalk, I dialed and lifted my phone to my ear. It rang three times before he answered.

“Hello?” he said.

“Hey, Scotty.” I cleared my throat. “It’s me, Lucas.”

He laughed. It sounded fake as hell. “Yeah, I know. I can read the caller ID. What’s up, bro?”

Someone laughed, dishes clanged together, and loud music boomed in the background. He was still at the bar, more than likely. “Just checking in. We haven’t chatted much since I’ve gotten out. How are things going on your end?”