Page 73 of Gather the Storm

He could cause trouble for the Beasts, forcing them to abandon ship.

That bothered me more than it should have. I knew they could take care of themselves, but I also knew it couldn’t be easy reintegrating into normal life after being in prison for so long. My argument for getting them to the house — that it would be a good place for them to regroup — had been self-serving, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t also valid.

Still, making trouble for them with the people in town would make their lives more unpleasant and I was surprised to find the thought unappealing.

“I have no idea.” Ruth stood and grabbed her bag with one hand, then picked up her coffee and pound cake with the other. “But if you haven’t heard from him yet, I’m guessing it won’t be good.”

We said goodbye and I was relieved when she gave me a hug. It was still a little distant, but we’d broken the seal on the awkwardness between us and I promised to have her up to the house for a sleepover soon.

I sat at the table for a few minutes after she left, thinking about what she’d said. There were a thousand ways my dad could have found out about the Beasts living with me at the house — especially after Wolf and I ran errands together in town — but the fact that he hadn’t immediately confronted me caused a knot to form in my stomach.

Everything was business to my dad — even me and Ruth. If he hadn’t confronted me about living with the Beasts yet it was because he was calculating his next move.

And one thing was certain: whatever it was, it wouldn’t be fun when it came.

Chapter 37

Wolf

Ipulled Benji next to the curb on the south side of town and looked at the abandoned brick building across the cracked pavement of an old parking lot.

“Tell me again why we can’t just talk to Aloha at the compound?” I asked Jace, who was sitting next to me in the passenger seat.

“The compound is home,” Jace said. “This is business.”

I couldn’t help feeling like there was more to it. Jace had lived on the compound his whole life and he hadn’t been back once since we’d moved in with Daisy.

Then again, I hadn’t been home to see my mom — although we did text — and as far as I knew, Otis hadn’t been home either.

Daisy had been right when she’d invited us to live in the house at the top of the falls — getting out of prison was just the beginning of our reintegration into society. Five years ago, we’d felt like kings in Blackwell Falls. Now the place felt weird, like I’d put on someone else’s jacket when leaving a party.

“If you say so,” I said, reaching for the door.

We walked across the empty parking lot and headed for the brick building, the whole place surrounded by a rusted chain link fence, the old Blackwell Wire sign looming on the roof even though it hadn’t been in business for over fifty years.

The Blades owned it now, like a lot of the run-down buildings in town, and we walked with confidence toward the old loading dock. This was one place we didn’t have to feel uncomfortable, one place no one would stare or whisper when we walked by, something that had happened more than once when I’d been out running errands with Daisy.

I didn’t know if she’d noticed, but I had.

“Does Aloha know we’re coming?” I asked as we made our way up the concrete ramp to the loading dock.

Jace snorted. “Think I have a fucking death wish?”

He had a point. Surprising Aloha — or any member of the Blades — at their place of business was a bad idea.

I felt the weight of my hunting knife in the waistband of my jeans like an old friend. I wasn’t worried since Jace was still technically one of the Blades, but I was still glad to be armed again.

I didn’t like guns — never had — but the knife felt like family. It had belonged to my grandfather, and my mom had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday, her tone reverent as she’d explained my responsibility to respect life, to never ask the knife to do a dishonorable deed on my behalf.

The speech had stuck with me, making what had happened later even harder to live with. Still, I was glad to have the knife on me. Protecting yourself and others — defending yourself and others — wasn’t dishonorable. It was the loophole that got me through my darkest nights in prison, when everything we’d done haunted me most.

We came to a metal door to the side of the big roll-ups that had once been used to load and unload trucks. An electronickeypad was set into the brick, and I looked up at the camera above the door, a red light blinking from its lens.

A beep sounded from inside the door.

Jace reached for the knob and we stepped into an unlit warehouse.

Factory windows framed in black soared fifty-feet high, but the light was weak on this side of town in the morning and the place still felt gloomy as fuck.

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