Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1)(67)

Chris shot me an incredulous look. “Dude, your arm isn’t hurt because of some work injury or something. Your arm is hurt because someone wants you dead and is determined to accomplish their goal. That ‘someone’ is your—”

“Yeah.” I tugged on my collar. “I know, *.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Chris muttered, walking closer to the truck and leaving me alone. I watched his back, making sure no one from the other gang—the ones buying the guns—made any sudden moves. “Let’s go. Move your asses. We have a meeting to go to. It’s your dicks on the line if we’re late.”

I followed him, frowning when I saw one of the guys from our crew standing to the side, watching me intently. He fingered the gun at his hip, his dark shades blocking his eyes from my view, but I didn’t doubt my initial assessment. For some reason, he was focused on me. I frowned at the man. “Hey. You. Get to work.”

He ignored me. Just stood there.

Not one to back down from a threat, I walked over to him, resting my hand on my own piece. “Is there a problem?”

The man rocked back on his heels. “No, sir, there’s no problem here. I was just watching your back. Tate’s orders.”

Watching it . . . or watching me? Either way, I didn’t like it. I didn’t know this man, and I definitely didn’t want him at my six. “Fuck off. I watch my own back.”

“But—”

I grabbed the man’s shirt and hauled him close, face-to-face. “I said, back the f*ck off. Now.”

The man held his arms up, swallowing hard. “All right, sir. All right.”

I let go of him, and he backed off, letting out an aggravated sound. After one last dirty look, he stormed off. I walked over to the leader of the other gang, who’d been watching us way too intently, and held out my hand. “We all good, Gonzales?”

Gonzales eyed me. This was the moment where, if anything was gonna go bad, it would. Cops. Guns. Fights. This was when it all happened. When money exchanged hands. My pulse skyrocketed, and I scanned the perimeter. So did Gonzales.

After what felt like a f*cking year, he reached into his pocket. I tensed, watching for any signs of something hard and gun shaped. Instead, he pulled out a crisp, white envelope, much like the one I had in my home. “We’re all good.”

He gave me the envelope, and I immediately tucked it into my jacket pocket. No sirens blared. No gunshots boomed. The deal was complete. I inclined my head toward the other lieutenant. “Have a good one, man.”

The man walked away without another word.

Chris immediately came over. “What was that about, earlier, with MacKenzie?”

Was that his name? Shit if I knew. “Tate had him watching me.”

“Shit,” Chris muttered. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Me neither, but there’s only one way to find out.” The trucks pulled away, and the crew piled into cars. I tipped my head toward Chris’s Porsche, since we’d ridden together. “Let’s go to the meeting.”

We rode the short distance to the office in silence. My mind was on Tate and whether he was looking to get rid of me, and Chris seemed just as lost in thought as I was.

The second we walked through the doors of the office, Brian approached us.

Chris nodded. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Good. Arms up,” Brian, Tate’s right-hand man, said to me.

Gritting my teeth, I did as ordered. “If you wanted to feel me up, you could’ve at least bought me a drink first.”

“There’s one in there waiting for you.” He patted me down, checking for wires or any weapons I’d failed to leave outside the meeting room with my phone. After a few moments, he nodded once. “Go on in.”

I gave him a cocky grin. “Thanks.”

He moved on to Chris, who stood behind me, and I went in. I’d never been in this particular room before, since I wasn’t up high enough on the food chain to warrant an invitation. I wasn’t sure why I’d gotten one now, either, unless I was about to get that promotion that Chris had warned me about. Either that . . .

Or they knew about Scotty.

My pulse sped up, and I sank into one of the chairs that had a whiskey sitting in front of it. I could only assume it wasn’t taken, since everyone else had a glass in their hands except me and Chris. I stared down at the drink but didn’t touch it. Instead, I scanned the room. Polished wooden circular table. Five matching chairs. A few generic paintings of flowers and landscapes. Everything looked boringly white-collar.

But I knew better than to believe it was.

“All right,” Tate said, settling into his chair. He wore a dark blue suit and a light blue dress shirt and looked every inch the professional businessman he pretended to be. “Let’s get this meeting started. First, let’s welcome our visitor today, Lucas Donahue.”

Everyone sat, murmuring quiet welcomes in their designer suits and ties.

Chris just raised a brow at me.

I stared back at him.

The men took turns speaking and solving problems. One by one, they discussed territories and deaths and errors. It was a management meeting, and I had nothing to add, because I didn’t manage a damn thing besides Heidi, and I even sucked at that.

Leaning back in the wood chair, I watched my companions through my lowered lashes. Tate sat kind of separated from the rest of us, and Brian was to his left. Chris sat on the right, and I was next to him. Across from me was Tommy, and he watched me with skepticism, as if he couldn’t figure out why the hell I was sitting at this table in the first place.