Page 35 of Insurgent

“Head to the warehouse. I need to check on this little thief.”

“You know you have to move on from her eventually, right?”

“Yeah, well, she’s marrying Samuel, so what better time?”

Sweep looks over at me. “Did you tell her?” he asks.

“I did.”

“Damn, brother.”

“I had to. I asked her to marry me, too.”

“You’re fucked in the head,” he says. “You fucked up his proposal and you tried to steal her away from him.”

“The hell you care if I fucked up his proposal?”

“He’s your brother, Bones.”

I laugh. “And he’s marrying the woman I love. Ain’t that some shit?” We pull down the road, nearing the warehouse.

“That’s life at its finest,” he replies. We stop the car and Trig walks out the side door that Daryl and Sip stand by with black suits and guns under their blazers. Two men guard every door leading into the place.

He lifts his chin at Sweep, reaching his hand out for mine. I return it. “I know who it is,” he says, after our shake, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Been looking at the tapes with Nugget. She’s been doing it for a while.”

“How have we not seen this?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Someone wasn’t doing their job, Bones.”

I nod. “Well, let’s find out who that someone is and get the girl.”

“Yes, sir,” he says. We head toward the door and Sip and Daryl nod firmly at me.

“Boys,” I say. “Daryl, your grandma still baking those homemade red velvet cakes?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, “Believe she just finished baking some today.”

I nod. “Think she’ll have an extra to sell?”

“For you, I’m sure,” he says.

“Great. I’m sure Ma would love a slice. It’s her favorite.” He nods and Sip opens the door for us. Naked women, lined in rows, cut the heroin, scoop the powder into baggies, weigh them, and continue the process.

“How is she doing it when they have no fucking clothes on?” I ask Sweep.

“Someone had to be helping,” he says.

“You think?” I reply. He eyeballs me. I lift a brow. “Come on, let’s go take care of this shit. Mae’s making pot roast for supper and I don’t want to be late.”

“She’s cooking for you now?” he asks.

“She works for me, Sweep. Drop it.”

“You paying her to fuck you, too?” Trig asks.

“Can I ask how the hell that’s any of your business? Jesus Christ, Trig. I don’t keep up with who you fuck. Mind your own shit.” I reach up and pop him on the back of the head.

He chuckles. “Girl’s back here,” he says. We walk to her row. I watch her for a moment as she works. She’s thin, her ribs stick out, and her hipbones have no meat.

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