Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)(43)

I can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows he’s won, and he’s already looking forward to that kiss I promised him. Ash lets the fifth knife fly, and as he lets go of the handle, I move, just a little—just enough that the blade cuts my arm before it hits the wall.

I click my tongue in mock disappointment, hissing a breath through my teeth. “Aw. Too bad. You were so close.”

Priest looks like he’d rather slap me than be in the room with me for another second, and Gage has that growing thundercloud of annoyance on his face again. Funny how they were giving Ash shit just a minute ago, and now they’re angry on his behalf because I fucked with him. More proof that they really are brothers without the blood.

Knox, on the other hand, howls with laughter, hitting his fist against the table with amusement. “She got you good, Ash. You even had your serious face on, and she saw right through you.”

Ash just shakes his head, but there’s amusement on his face too. “Should’ve known you’d be a tricky one,” he says to me, adjusting his glasses a little. “No kiss for me, I guess.”

“Sorry,” I tell him, shrugging. “A deal’s a deal.”

I can tell he’s disappointed, but he’s good-natured enough not to let it be a whole thing. Unlike Gage and Priest, who weren’t even involved and look like they’ve been sucking on lemons over there.

“Anyway,” I say, stepping away from the wall and going to put my plate in the sink. “I’ve gotta go. I have a drug dealer to find.”

Meredith’s tip is still fresh in my mind, and I have a few good ideas for where to hunt down this dealer. Once I find him, I have a few more ideas for how to get him to talk to me. Not all of them involve asking nicely either. I’ve never had an issue making people talk when I need them to.

The informant that got me into this mess notwithstanding. That was a one-time fuck up.

“You need a passenger on this little trip?” Ash asks, cutting into my thoughts. “I could tag along. I bet we’d make a great team.”

Honestly, he’d be more entertaining than being out with Gage, but I don’t know how useful he’d be otherwise. I don’t need the dealer to be flirted with or distracted with card tricks. Ash looks hopeful though, and I can’t tell if it’s because he wants to hang out with me or because he thinks there’s going to be a kiss in it for him somewhere down the line. Either way, I don’t need him distracting me with his flirting and whatever other nonsense he can get up to, so I open my mouth to shoot him down.

Before I can, Gage cuts in.

“No,” he says firmly. “This is her job. If we start helping her with it, then what’s the fucking point of the deal?”

Irritation flashes through me, and I bite my tongue to keep from telling him where to shove it. He helped me yesterday, after all, so trying to be a hard-ass about it now just makes him seem like a hypocrite.

He’s such a fucking control freak that he has to be in charge of my mission along with every other fucking thing in his life, and I think about telling him to fuck off and let me handle my business on my own, but in the end, I don’t say anything about it.

I didn’t want Ash along anyway.

I prefer to work alone.





17





RIVER





FIRST THINGS FIRST, I pack a bag and then take a taxi from the guys’ house to my place again. It’s weird doing the same trip that I did that first morning, remembering how I thought I was free of them. I remember coming out of the shower to find Knox standing in my living space looking through my shit and shake my head.

It’s only been a couple of days since then, but it feels like a lot longer.

I find my shitty car where I left it parked in the abandoned parking lot next to my building and slide into the driver’s seat. It’s a piece of crap, held together with haphazard repair jobs and pure spite, but it’s mine. It’s not some sleek, high-end machine being driven by an asshole who thinks his car alone makes him better than me, so I’ll definitely take it.

From what Meredith said, I know I’ll find this dealer somewhere around Eight Mile.

Damon Sinclair, who keeps tabs on Ivan St. James. There are a lot of ways I can handle this, but I decide to go in neutral at first, just to scope out what’s going on with him.

I drive over that way and park on a side street. It’s not hard to find him. He matches the description perfectly, and I have to wonder how a woman who’s probably blind as shit knew exactly what this low rate dealer would look like.

Either the blindness is an act, or she has an information network that’s damn good. Judging from how Gage acted around her, it’s probably the second one.

Either way, it got me what I needed, so I’m grateful for it.

I walk up to Sinclair, taking him in.

He’s nothing special, your average small-time dealer out here in a world of small-time dealers. He’s lanky and thin, skin pale and a little sickly looking. His hair needs washing, and his clothes hang off him like they never fit him in the first place and the problem just got worse over time.

His eyes dart around nervously, and whenever anyone gets too close, he looks like he’s about two seconds from jumping out of his skin.

“Damon Sinclair?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. Just to see what he’ll say or do.