Page 86 of Boulder's Weight

She rises, chin lifting defiantly. "I'm coming with you."

"No the fuck you're not. We don't know what he wants. It could be a trap."

"Or he could have information," she argues. "Craig's always been more of a follower than a leader. He does what Benji tells him to."

"Exactly why you're staying put," I say firmly. "If Benji sent him to lure you out?—"

"You don't understand," she interrupts. "Craig isn't like Benji. He's?—"

"Not your call," I cut her off, my tone brooking no argument. "Club protection means club rules. You stay here, where it's safe, and that’s that."

Her eyes flash with anger, but she doesn't push further. "Fine. But be careful. And... and tell him Sam says hey."

The odd message makes me pause. "Sam's the good brother?"

She nods. "Craig listens to Sam sometimes. Might help."

I walk over to her, cupping her face in my hands.

It’s become familiar over the past week, a way of grounding both of us.

"I'll be back soon," I promise, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead. "Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone."

Twenty minutes later, I'm sliding into a booth across from Craig Warlow at thetaquería.

Brick stands casually by the counter, eyes never leaving us, hand resting inside his cut where I know his gun sits ready.

Craig looks different in daylight—less menacing, more tired.

There are dark circles under his eyes, and his hands fidget nervously with a coffee cup.

"You wanted to talk," I say, not bothering with pleasantries. "So talk."

He glances around, making sure no one's in earshot. "Benji doesn't know I'm here."

That catches my attention. "Why should I believe that?"

"Because I'm putting my neck on the line coming to you," he says, voice low. "If he finds out I warned you..."

"Warned me about what?"

Craig leans forward. "Benji's not going to stop. Not ever. He thinks Cady—Kelsey—still has copies of the evidence she took to the police. He's convinced she's got insurance in case anything happens to her."

"Does she?" I ask, watching his reaction carefully.

A humorless smile crosses his face. "Smart enough not to tell me, even if she does."

I lean back, studying him.

His resemblance to Kelsey is more apparent now—same shaped eyes, similar mannerisms.

"You knew," I say suddenly. "About what your father was doing. All along."

Something dark passes across Craig's face. "Weallknew. Some of us were just better at pretending we didn't."

I can't keep the disgust from my voice. "And you were okay with it?"

He looks down at his coffee. "I was a fucking coward. Still am."

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