Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)(30)

“Gage,” she says. Her voice is creaky in that way super old people’s always are. Rattling around in her throat and coming out in a rasp. “It’s about damn time.”

“It hasn’t been that long, Meredith,” he replies, and there’s something about his whole demeanor that changes with her. Some of the guarded anger that he always seems to wear like a shield falls away as he moves closer to her chair.

When we get close enough, I can tell that I was right about her being super old. She’s a tiny thing, withered and wrinkled. Her hands are gnarled where they’re clasped in her lap, and they seem to shake a little even though she’s not moving.

She tilts her head up toward Gage, letting me see more of her face. Although her eyes might have been a darker color once, they’re now a sort of milky white that makes me realize she must be blind. Or mostly blind, at least.

“That’s what you say every time,” she says, shaking her head. “No matter how long it’s been.”

To my shock, Gage just laughs a little. It’s not even a mean laugh, more like the kind you’d use when an elderly relative scolds you for something. Indulgent and amused, but with an edge of fondness.

“Are you still in one piece?” she asks, cocking her head a little.

“Last time I checked.”

“Well, check again. Make sure for me.”

It’s like I’m not even there, and Gage pats his chest loudly enough for her to hear it.

“All here.”

“Good. Then what can I do for you?”

Now he glances to me, and I shake myself from my surprise. The curiosity I tried to repress is rising inside me all over again. I have so many questions, but I shove it all down.

This isn’t the time. It’ll never be the time.

“We need information about Ivan St. James,” Gage says.

“Ah. You and your lady friend here?” Meredith asks, making me jump a little. I didn’t realize she knew I was here.

“She’s not my friend,” Gage tells her quickly. “More like an associate for the time being.”

“She walks like she can handle herself. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they walk, you know. Quick steps or slow ones. Heavy tread or light. I’ve learned.”

“Meredith,” Gage cuts in before I can think of what to say in response to that. “Do you have anything for us?”

She hums softly and then smiles, showing off a few missing teeth. “Might. Just might. Damon Sinclair. Low rent drug dealer from around these parts. He keeps tabs on Ivan, from what I hear.”

“Does he work with Ivan?” I ask, speaking for the first time.

Meredith turns to look in my direction, even though I know she can’t really see me. “Nope. He’s worried Ivan’s gonna kill him for dealing too near St. James’s territory. Helps to know the man’s movements ahead of time so he can get gone when he needs to.”

I smile, pleased at the info. Someone paranoid with a reason to keep track of what Ivan does. That’s perfect. Those are the kind of people who turn out to be the best sources of information, because they gather it to save their own asses.

“You tangling with Ivan St. James?” Meredith asks, turning her attention and milky gaze back to Gage. “You know what that man is.”

“I know,” he replies, not confirming or denying the tangling. “Thanks for your help, Mer.”

She flaps a hand at him and smiles. It’s the kind of smile that’s heavy with fondness, like she loves him and cares about his wellbeing. “You keep yourself in one piece, now. And don’t forget about me.”

“I could never,” he replies as he motions me back toward the door. “You’d never let me, for one thing.”

Her papery chuckle is the last thing I hear as we step out into the hallway.

Once the door is closed behind us, I glance over at Gage, resisting the pressing urge to ask my questions. Like why he’s so at home here, and how he knows this woman. It’s not weird to have informants scattered across the city, but Meredith seemed like more than that. She seemed like someone who cares about him.

But I don’t want to know. The more I know about Gage and the others, the harder it’ll be to untangle myself from their shit when the time comes. It’s not relevant to the mission, so I move on.

We head outside and get in the car, and I drum my fingers on the arm rest while Gage drives, mulling over the information we have now. It shouldn’t be hard to track down this Damon Sinclair guy, and getting him to give me the information I want will probably be a matter of making it worth his while or scaring him into it. I’m not fussed about which route I end up taking.

The slums fall away as we drive, the highway taking us back toward the side of Detroit where the guys and the other people with too much money and not enough sense live. I notice a sign pointing toward a strip mall with a pet store in the distance and grin.

“Take a left here,” I tell Gage.

“That’s not the exit,” he says, his guard back up and the familiar barely there civility firmly back in place. Just the way I like it. “I know how to get back to my own house.”

“I need to stop somewhere.”

“Where?” he asks, glancing over at me with an incredulous expression, as if I’m losing my mind for even suggesting it.