Page 109 of Zeus

"Something wrong?" one of the guys asks me.

I don't even know which one, because I don't waste energy looking in his direction.

"Fuck off," I mutter, leaning on my shovel.

I was fucking joking when I told Zayne this is what we're probably doing today. It seems to have been a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Digging fucking drainage pipes is the very last thing that will help us gather information on the organization.

I can't help but question the regression in my duties, not that making drop-in visits to fucking trap houses is very high in the order of things.

What happened this morning keeps flashing in my mind. There was no tension in the room when Bobby entered, despite Scott trailing so closely behind him. When he was challenging Billy, he never looked in my direction any longer than he did anyone else's, but something is off.

Zayne and I have been split up today, and although that's been the case for the last two weeks, it feels different. I can't work out whether it's because I'm being paranoid or if there's a different reason.

Scott told us both to wear clothes we didn't mind ruining. It wasn't directed only at me, and without looking at that fucking board, I have no idea what Zayne is tasked with today.

Hell, at this point, the board wouldn't even fucking matter. The men who attend those meetings don't have their names on the board. Only the lowest men in the organization have their names written there.

I keep getting glances from the other guys, and at first, it’s weird until I realize that they were looking to me to understand exactly how they were supposed to complete this task. It's like these men have never had to dig a fucking hole before.

Now that we've been working our asses off for the last couple of hours, the looks should've stopped, but they haven't. It's feeding the whisper in my brain that tells me I made the wrong call this morning, that I underestimated my ability to lie under pressure.

I can't get over the idea that I read Scott's reaction this morning all wrong, that he wasn't sympathetic to the lie, just disgusted at what he saw, but too much of a coward to confront us immediately.

It's not like making a run for it was an option. With the armed patrols people make around the compound and that massive fucking gate at the front, there was a better chance that we'd end up with a bullet in our backs than scaling it and getting away.

I know there's also no bravery in sitting around and letting shit fall apart either.

It was expected that I would follow the crew I was assigned to work with today to the work truck. I didn't have a chance to go back to the cabin to get the burner phone. Asking the favor of using one of the guys' phones here would be suspicious because I don't even speak to any of these motherfuckers unless it's to tell them to leave me the fuck alone.

I look around, finding another guy looking in my direction.

I narrow my eyes, leaning on my shovel as I glare at him.

"What?" I snap.

"Don't you ever get tired of this shit?" he asks.

I know how I want to respond, but with how my Spidey senses are tingling, telling me that shit has gone south, attempting to build camaraderie with these motherfuckers would be pointless.

"What shit?" I challenge.

He points around him to the work we've accomplished today.

I shrug, the best I can manage. "I like being outside. It's normally fucking relaxing when people are bitching and complaining about getting a little sweaty."

He frowns. "Do you even know what we're doing?"

"Drainage, dumbass," one of the other guys answers, pulling off his ball cap and wiping sweat from his face with his forearm.

"Fucking idiot," the first guy grumbles as he points to the building we've been digging the drainage lines away from. "Do you know what that place is?"

"A business," another guy says, all too quick to join the conversation if it means avoiding the work.

"It's a fucking strip club," the first guy explains.

I frown when the other guys grow excited.