Page 42 of Dark Things
I don’t like any of this, but Gino isn’t going to give us more, we’re just going to have to find out the rest by ourselves. I can see Staff wants to argue, but I just grip his shoulder and squeeze.
“You’re right, this has nothing to do with us. Let us know when the next job is. We’ll get out of your hair,” I say, pulling Staff with me toward the door with Brooks following.
Once we’re outside, Staff shakes me off and makes his way to the car. He can be pissed all he wants, but I won’t take chances with their safety and the less we know about old beefs that have nothing to do with us the better. Unless this has to do with Belle or how to get her back, I want us as removed as we can get from all the bullshit.
Except there’s a small problem.
I look to the sky for a moment before turning toward the car, Brooks following me. He slips past, butI linger, trying to gather my thoughts. I don’t know how I’m going to keep them safe if we’re about to be thrown into a war against two mafia rivals.
The woods around the warehouse are thick, and you can’t really see in the darkness, but when Brooks turns the car on, the headlights shine onto a crop of trees, and I see a lone figure standing there.
He doesn’t move, just stares at me, seeing what I’ll do before he pulls down his balaclava and turns, disappearing into the night like a ghost. No sound reaches me except the hum of the car motor and the crickets.
I get in the car before Brooks turns around. “Was that who I think it was?” he asks.
Closing my eyes, I sigh. “Yeah. That was Haunt Graves.”
17
Haunt
Iwatch the guys take the man inside the warehouse. I recognized Gino standing next to the building when I got here, which wasn’t all that long after the car pulled up.
I may have put a tracker on both Gino and all three of the guy’s cars, and when I noticed where they were, and that they were in the same place, my curiosity got the better of me. Reb is going to fucking kill me for leaving her out of this but I didn’t want to tell her in case it turned out to be a dead end.
But now I can see exactly who these guys are and what they’re doing for Mario. Seems like we have a few things in common, except for the team we’re playing for.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out before slipping behind a tree to check the message.
Cum Stain: Shop in an hour
Me: Copy
I slip the phone back into my pocket and peek around the tree to make sure they slipped inside. Jogging around, I find the only window on this side of the building and jump on a pile of crates, not making a sound.
Visibility is shit through the filthy window, but I can hear the whole conversation. Michael is supposed to be working for dear ole dad, but if he’s talking, he’s going to be dead by the end of the night, either by Mario’s order or Stan’s. Stupid fuck.
Reb and I know what Stan’s side hobby is, and we’ve been trying to dismantle it at every turn, rescuing the girls before they disappear or intercepting the kidnappings before they happen, but we’re not always successful.
We haven’t had a case since we moved from Kentucky, but it seems like Stan is fucking lives up wherever he goes.
I hear the normal pleading and then the smack of flesh against flesh. Gino grunts, but when the next thing comes out of Michael’s mouth I freeze.
“Stanislao Ferrante. He’s back in New York, and I’m sure you all know what name he goes by now.”
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Don’t do it, Michael. Keep your mouth shut. You’re going tomakemy life even more difficult. You stupid fucking asshole. But of course he doesn’t stop there.
Before I can figure out a way to shoot him from the window he says what I fear.
“What name does he go by now?” Brooks asks, shaking Michael’s head by his hair.
“Stan. Stan Graves,” he cries out.
Waiting a second to see what the rest of the conversation is going to divulge, I peek to see the guys huddled with Gino. He gestures to something, and Brooks puffs out his chest. Staff’s posture changes, but before he can say anything else, Colter puts his hand on his shoulder and halts whatever he was about to come out of his mouth. They move toward the door at a clipped pace.
