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I thought Rafe had said as much.
“Riot used to be a member of the Hellfire Fighters. Underground fighting club? And through them, he got an in with the Russian Mob. We were told you guys needed help. That’s all I know.”
Shit. I wonder who asked for their help, and how much they told them. If it’s about my father, or about Simon Gomez.
Or both, since they’re somehow connected. Connected to each other—and to Jason. What the hell is the plan, and how will it affect him?
Goddammit, I need to talk to Ocean.
“You talked to Dad.”
Ocean starts at the sound of my voice. He looks up at me from where he’s been flipping through an album of tattoo designs. Not his own, I notice. It’s a very different style, bolder, with thick lines and colors. “What?”
“I said, you talked to Dad and didn’t tell me about it. Just like you forgot to inform me that you invited a Russian mafia member to do… what exactly, Shun?” I slam my fists on his table, feeling like a bull in a China shop but unable to stop. “I feel this concerns me, too, don’t you think? When were you gonna tell me?”
“Whoa, slow down.” His chair screeches as he gets to his feet, eyes shadowed. “Come on, let’s take this outside.”
Seething, I follow him through the shop and out onto the busy sidewalk. Ice scrunches under my boots as we hoof it around the corner where the wind’s bite is gentler.
“So spill.” I shove my hands into my pockets—both to keep from hitting him and because it’s damn cold. “You went behind my back and made arrangements—with the fucking mafia? Didn’t it occur to you to keep me in the loop?”
Ocean whirls on me, his blue hair sticking up in all directions. “You’re one to talk. You kept your phone calls with the old man from me. You even went out and met him and almost got killed in the process.”
Fuck, he’s right. “So this is, what, payback?”
“No, R.” The heat in his gaze tells me he’s telling the truth. “It’s not fucking payback. Jesus, man. I thought Rafe told you about it. Or that we told everyone in one of the meetings.” He sighs. “You know. The ones you keep skipping.”
“What meetings? You all go out for drinks and pool. That what you mean?”
He shrugs. “Whatever.”
Hell. I kick at a soggy piece of trash that was probably a hotdog tray once. “Okay, so why don’t you fill me in now?”
“We don’t have a solid plan yet. All we know is that dear old Dad is somehow in business with Simon Gomez’s MC, because you told us so.”
My turn to nod. “Fantastic.”
“I know. Anyway, we asked Riot to check in with his connections about Simon Gomez, and it seems that, as we thought, he’s loosely connected to the Mexican mafia, but not enough to guarantee their protection.”
“So he’s fair game.”
“He is. Which is good news for us.”
“Good news, how?”
Ocean looks out, across the street, and I know he’s not checking out anything in particular. His eyes don’t track. He’s thinking. “We need to gather more info. Find out who Dad was in contact with, if it was Simon Gomez himself—and who else has power in the MC apart from Simon.”
He’s right. These are all things we should find out. But that’s not what worries me the most.
“What’s on your mind?” Ocean’s gaze is now on me.
“Jason. I need him safe.”
His gaze narrows. “We all do. Hey, R…” He rubs the back of his neck. “What I said the other day, about Jason. He’s a good guy. Never meant to make it sound dif
ferently, you know that, right? This plan isn’t just about Dad’s threats, although they have to stop, or else we’ll never find any peace, you and me. But it’s also for Jason and his people.”
“That’s the thing. Jason has been sending his people away. Something’s going down, but he won’t tell me.”
