Page 51 of The Demons We Hide

Gio gets his way. I don’t know how the bastard manages it, but something about a wish and a genie, and Juliet’s face goes slack with shock. She then flips him the bird, calls him an asshole, and storms into the room I relegated as hers. Gio grins and follows her there, swiping up his backpack and shutting the door behind him as he goes.

An hour later, the door remains closed and he hasn’t been kicked out, so I suppose he won this round with the Princess. Lex and I toss our own bags into the spare room and then take turns passing the remote back and forth. When my phone buzzes in my pocket, I know the downtime is up.

DARRIO: Meeting set.

I grit my teeth, but in the next instant a set of instructions comes through along with a location.

“Time to go?” Lex guesses. I nod my answer and instead of calling out and alerting Juliet to our departure, I text G and let him know that we’re heading out to take care of business. Hopefully it won’t take the whole damn night to meet with Darrio’s contact.

Lex grabs his keys and together the two of us head back the way we came. As we leave out the same side door we entered, I double check my earlier messages to see that Zeke had, in fact, sent me the code to get back in. I reply with my thanks and then forward the information to all of the guys’ phones. Since there’s no way in hell I’ll be letting Juliet out of our sight for the weekend we’re here, she won’t need it.

Lex drives for a while, leaving behind the glittering rich neighborhoods and shop fronts of Eastpoint and rolling into the part of the city that’s far less dazzling. Everywhere has one, even Eastpoint. When the street lights grow less frequent and there are a few burnt out, I know we’re almost there. Afternoon has turned to twilight by the time we turn onto the street from Darrio’s coordinates.

The contact waits outside an industrial building with cracked windows and a massive rolling garage door that’s closed and spray-painted in graffiti. Lex tenses when he spies the man in a dark jacket and a baseball cap waiting for us. His eyes flick to me and though he puts the SUV in park, he doesn’t get out.

“You’re not coming,” I say before he can insist.

Smoke-gray eyes shoot to my face and his brow creases as he scowls. “You need backup,” he snaps. “This fucker is working for Darrio, we can’t trust him.”

“We’re working for Darrio,” I remind him, though I hate to say the words. They roll off my tongue like acid coated bullets. I already don’t like being here for Darrio. Eastpoint was supposed to be our escape, but if Darrio gets his greedy, cocaine smeared fingers this far north, we may never be able to get away from him. Not unless we finish the job in a way that will clear all of us of potential consequences.

Lex stares past me for a long moment, eyes scanning the perimeter. “I don’t like this.”

Neither do I, but we don’t have a choice. I reach into the glove compartment and pull free the gun we keep there. Checking the clip to make sure it’s loaded, I lean forward and slide it into the top of my jeans before lifting my shirt to cover it—even though I’m sure the guy I’m meeting knows we’re going to be packing. Visual weapons always make people do stupid shit. As if the very fact that they can see is a threat, and I don’t want to threaten Darrio’s contact, not yet.

“If I’m not out in thirty, you can come after me,” I tell him. “But do not enter that fucking building until then.”

One hand grips the steering wheel, knuckles bone white. “Thirty. Minutes.” He repeats both words through clenched teeth, and I’m out of the car before he can change his mind and think to come after me.

Ducking my head and flipping up the hood on my jacket, I march across the grass and gravel between the SUV and the man. He eyes me as I approach but otherwise doesn’t move.

“You Darrio’s boy?” he demands.

I have to bite back the urge to slam my fist into his face at the indication that I’m Darrio’sanything. I just jerk my chin in an affirmative and ask my own question. “You his contact?”

Instead of answering me, the man simply jerks his thumb over his shoulder to the warehouse and turns. “Follow me.”

Casting a look over my shoulder at where Lex sits in the darkened SUV, I do. The entire time I trail the man, I contemplate how I can fuck this meeting up just enough to ensure that whoever this man is won’t work with Darrio again, but also not get my ass killed. The gun against the base of my spine is a small comfort, but at least it’s there.

The inside of the warehouse is just as dusty and musty as the outside. Wide, cold, and nearly empty save for the stacks of boxes and pallets covered in thin plastic sheets that are so gray with age they’re opaque. My heart rate kicks up a notch as the stranger comes to a stop near a row of… I stop next to him, my eyes widening.

“Are these…”

“Yup.” He slaps a hand down on the first one, the wood echoing with the smack.

Coffins. Fucking coffins. At least half a dozen of them lined up in various sizes and shades of brown. “There’s a series of funeral homes between here and Silverwood,” the man says. “Fronts, of course.”

Sickness churns in my gut, but the irony almost makes me bark out a laugh. Coffins. They’re smuggling weapons and drugs inside coffins and funeral homes. There can’t be a bigger universal sign.

My head sinks back on my shoulders and I stare up at the rafters for a beat. When no plan for an out comes to me, I grit my teeth and meet the man’s gaze.

“What do you need from us?” I ask.

The man continues to eye me, and for some reason, I’m starting to think he looks almost familiar. I frown at him, but before I can figure it out, he gestures to the lid of the one he slapped.

“Open it,” he orders.

“What?” I stiffen and take an almost instinctive step back, away from the coffins. I’m not a religious man, never have been, but the idea of opening that lid makes my insides tight with disgust.

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