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And now Saint was in it too. Perfect.

The kid’s gaze jumped between their faces and the weapons Wheeler and Jackson carried at their belts.

Saint saw the moment the invincibility fled.

“Okay, I don’t know them as well as I said I did.”

“You mean Cooper’s not your dad?” Jackson said. “I’m shocked.”

The sarcastic smile dropped off Jackson’s face as a gob of spit landed on his boot. He walked back to his kit and grabbed a bottle of water to wash it off with another sigh. “Job’s done. Let’s call them and be done with it. They can deal with their own trash.”

The kid paled, and Wheeler continued to watch him. Jackson was laying it on a bit thick, but it seemed to be working.

“I’m looking for someone.”

“No one else is here,” Wheeler said.

A thin white line formed around the kid’s lips, and he looked down, hair falling into his eyes.

The bravado was seeping into the ground like the water dripping off Jackson’s boot.

Saint bent down again. “What’s your name?”

“Key.”

“That’s not a real name,” Jackson pointed out from the wall.

“Sounded pretty real when your mom was screaming it last night.”

Saint had to work to keep his face still. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”

The kid’s eyes were a dark brown, not unlike Saint’s own.

“Why are you pretending to be an Eighty-Sixer? They don’t take well to impersonators.”

Key mumbled something and shifted on his knees.

“Again?” Wheeler asked from just behind Saint.

“I didn’t want to get shot. That’s why I said that.”

“Oh, look at that. He does experience fear.”

Wheeler sent Jackson a look, and he raised his hands. “Okay, I’m done.”

“How old are you?” Saint pulled the kid’s attention back.

He wound up to give him another line of shit, and Saint held up his hand.

“Look, I don’t care why you’re here, but I’d rather not have more blood on my hands. We can let the bikers come get you, or you can tell us what’s going on. You get two minutes to decide.”

Saint pulled out his phone.

It was getting late, and Riley hadn’t texted a thing. Saint ground his teeth together. She was probably at her own apartment with its shitty locks and thin windows.

Not well handled. He needed to get back and see if he could salvage the trust he’d broken.

“One minute,” Jackson announced cheerfully. Saint stepped away from the group and hit send.