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CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
*Baylor “Bae” - Secretary*
Even though Kio and Zane handled that first hit like it was a walk on the beach, I still feel unsettled. An ominous dread follows me around like a damn thundercloud. Vincent feels it, too, but something else is also bothering him. All day, I have been trying to do a thorough mind scan — figure out what about this weekend has me so on edge, all the while attempting to get Vee to talk and clear his conscience.
From the look of things, he is aging out of the outlaw life early. Twenty-seven is really damn early. Way too early. Only two rallies ago, he was still one of our most vicious players. Now, he is losing his mind before we are even on location.
Whatever the reasons, having this kind of negative mentality is unacceptable going into an assignment.
As far as we can tell, the assignment itself looks normal. Cut and dry. Target should be home and up to no good at the designated reconnaissance time. Wait an hour for any witnesses to leave, then we pounce.
Vee leans forward on the couch, balancing all the items on his thigh to roll yet another joint. I angle my body into the corner beside him, watchful. Dude is in for a damn rude awakening if he lights up again before we ride out.
A tremor runs through his hands, the rolling paper fluttering wildly in his hold. He slowly places the filled square on his opposite knee, clenches and unclenches his hands, then tries again.
The second attempt is successful. Vee finishes and puts everything except the joint away, lighter included. Then he leans back and stares at the oblong stem, rolling it gently between each tattooed finger over and over again.
A pent up breath slowly releases from my tight lungs. This guy is going to send me to an early grave.
Lace comes out of the back, fully dressed, the lip of her helmet dangling from her fingertips. Coty is on her heels, walking with that special swagger. I shoot off the couch and walk up to her, eyes affording Coty a mutual glance before giving her my full focus, throwing my arm around her shoulders, and veering her a different direction. “Hey… Are you getting any of that weird vibe shit from Vee?”
Coty steps around us, slamming his shoulder into mine on the way toward wherever he is headed to sulk next.
Lace seems taken aback at first, needing to assimilate to the abrupt topic. But when the question registers, she gives me a confident nod. “Yeah… a lot has been going on, but he has not escaped my notice.”
“Do any of us?’ I chuckle. “You would make a damn good spy… or psychologist… or both.”
Her eyes light up, something in the back of her mind flickering to life. She curls over my forearm and reaffirms her answer. “Yeah. I have.” Even still, she tries to crack the HFL code. “Anything I need to know so I can help better?”
My lips press together, trying to hold back a proud grin. One of the many things I love most about her is how damn smart and strategic she is. But those smarts are gonna get her in too deep one of these days. Guaranteed. When… not if.
Making extra sure no one can hear us, I guide her even farther away from the nearest member and bring my mouth close to her ear. “Listen…” A chill slithers through her body in response to my breathy delivery, and my brain-body connection malfunctions for a second. Taking a shaky breath and shaking my head slightly, I mentally slap myself back to clarity. “Stop being so curious. You would do well to remember that I am not the only perceptive person in this scene.” And she knows damn well I mean the entire, big picture scene. All players. Not just Hell for Leather. “Otherwise, keep doing you. It helps. It matters. Go on your ride, but when you get back I need help with Vee. Because, Lace? I am fucking terrified he might screw up tonight. I mean, what if he gets the regular cheese puffs instead of the jalapeño ones, you know?”
She nods emphatically, but her free hand comes to her head, and she rubs her small palm over one of her eyes and down half of her face and around her chin. “Welcome to the club,” I laugh and give her a final squeeze.
