Page 52 of Pretty Nightmare

“No. Heard of them. Been a while, though. We were still kids when I knew them.”

“Hmm. I didn’t know them until after your accident.”

“Did they come to you?”

“No. I was trying to get in touch with James Fenici. Everyone thought Nick Tate was dead, so he was the only one I thought I could trust.”

“Hold on.” I place a hand on his arm. “What do you mean… everyone thought Nick Tate was dead?”

“You know. Fucking doubles and shit. When the Company prince dies a very public death—at the end of Sasha Cherlin’s gun, no less”—he shrugs—“well, that’s pretty fucking convenient, don’t you think?”

I nod. I do think. I met his double negative down in Daphne, Alabama. So I had a lot of suspicions. But I didn’t have any proof.

“Anyway, the rumors were all over the place. Fucking leftovers kept calling me looking for you. And I didn’t want to spell it out that Indie went crazy, so I just kinda…” He eyes me, unsure if he should say the rest.

“It’s OK. I’m not mad that you took over, all right? Those were our men anyway.”

“Right. So. They were all asking for you. Obviously. You’re next in line, if there was a line. And I went looking for James.”

“Did you tell him what Indie did?”

“No. Fuck that. I don’t trust him that much. I mean, he did a lot for us. Everyone who got left behind. But he’s not my partner. You are.”

I bump him with my shoulder. “Thanks.”

“No problem. So James came and read Donovan and me the riot act—”

“Hold on. Donovan was in on this too?”

“Yeah. Of course. I mean not really. He knew about it, but he wasn’t running anything. He was taking care of Indie.”

“Continue.”

“So James came that one time, barked a bunch of fucking orders, then he left us to it. The guys came to me. And I tried to get in touch with James again a few times. But he had disappeared.” McKay shrugs.

“I think he was on the ocean back then.”

“Yeah, I heard that too. So about a week later, Moore and Beck showed up. Said James sent them—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. So they came to you?”

“Hmm. I guess. Yeah. They said James sent them. I just assumed that was correct at the time.”

“Why would you assume that?”

McKay rubs his hands on the top of his shorts. “Felt right.”

“Felt right?”

“Don’t judge me. I do the best I can, OK?”

“Fine. Whatever. Keep going.”

“So they showed up about a week later, telling me that James sent them and I was under orders to finance some things as a favor to him.”

“For James?”

“Yup.”