Page 81 of Unmask
Jesse’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he actually chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I can figure it out, and as much as I’d like to fault him for it, I can’t. We’re all protective of you.”
Kreed made a growling sound in the back of his throat that definitely said Jesse was testing his patience and his restraint.
God, the last thing I need is a brawl in a moving car. I’d had enough of hospitals to last three lifetimes.
We somehow made it to the shop without anyone dying or spilling any blood on Jesse’s truck. I stepped out onto the cracked asphalt and took a healthy gulp of fresh air, letting the cold fill my lungs. It felt good, cleansing, and I needed it before I went inside. My sneakers crunched over scattered gravel and oil stains that had seeped into the pavement over decades.
Everything about this place brought an odd mixture of grief, homesickness, and nostalgia; the faded blue paint on the building’s exterior was peeling in familiar spots, and the neon sign still flickered erratically “Viper’s Auto Pro” in letters thathad lost their brightness years ago. I could clearly picture a younger version of me as a kid running through those glass doors or into the open garage after school, pigtails bouncing, knowing my dad was inside waiting with change in his pocket for the vending machines.
The moment we stepped inside the faded auto body office, the air immediately shifted to a familiar cocktail of old oil, cheap coffee, and secrets that seemed to cling to every surface. Dust motes danced in the afternoon light streaming through grimy windows, and the linoleum floor creaked under our feet. I didn’t know if this was a complete waste of time or if it could be a trap. I also didn’t know if Kenny had time for us to chase shadows, but I had to try.
“He’s in the office,” Jesse informed us.
My father’s office.
A pang hit me in the chest at the thought of seeing someone besides my father behind his desk. Kreed trailed behind as I moved to the narrow hallway, leading to the garage, a bathroom, and the room my father had used as his workspace to run his shops.
My throat thickened, and as I curled my fingers into my palms, nails pressing crescents into my skin, I did my best to suppress the memories threatening to drown me. The phantom scent of my dad’s aftershave seemed to linger in the air.
“You good, little raven?” Kreed asked when I stopped just outside the office door, my hand frozen on the brass knob that had lost most of its shine.
I didn’t think I’d ever be whole again, the cracks in my heart still bleeding, but I tipped my chin and nodded anyway.
Kreed planted himself just outside the office door, his broad shoulder pressed against the frame, one hand braced against the wood. The position gave him a clear view of both the hallway and inside the office. “Leave it open,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, but it was all for show because I was grateful he insisted. The door creaked on its hinges as it swung wide.
Rusty sat behind the desk, flipping through paperwork with weathered hands, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the light from the single overhead bulb. He looked older than the last time I’d seen him, deeper lines etched around his eyes, but his shoulders still carried the same solid strength I’d known since childhood. He was deep in a stack of bills, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.
When he sensed my arrival, his gaze flashed up from the papers, and his entire face transformed as his coal-dark eyes landed on me. The harsh lines of concentration melted away, replaced by something softer. “You came,” he said, standing slowly, his chair groaning in protest. “Wasn’t sure you would.”
I forced a small smile, my lips feeling stiff and unnatural. “You said it was important.”
“It is,” he replied, and the grin he gave me was warm, the kind I’d grown up with until it sputtered and died the moment his eyes shifted to land on Kreed’s imposing figure behind me. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. “Didn’t realize you’d be bringing a Raven.”
Kreed grinned, hovering in the doorway, his silver eyes cataloging every detail of the room. “Miss me that much, huh?”
“Care to give me a minute with my girl?” Rusty’s voice carried a note of challenge, his jaw setting in a way that reminded me uncomfortably of my father when he’d made up his mind about something.
Kreed’s response was immediate and harsh. “She’s not yours. Not anymore, and I’m not leaving her side.”
Rusty didn’t reply immediately, but strain zipped across the room like static electricity before a thunderstorm. He folded his arms across his chest, the motion making his work shirt strain across his shoulders, then settled himself on the corner of thedesk with deliberate casualness. “Yeah, I figured.” His smile was all teeth and no warmth. “Guys like you probably can’t let her breathe without getting twitchy. Real protective or just real possessive, Kreed?”
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, stepping between them before Kreed could deliver whatever threatening response was brewing in that menacing expression of his. “Enough. Both of you. I’m not here for a pissing contest.”
Rusty arched a graying brow, but his expression softened slightly as he focused on me again. “I heard about your missing friend. Kenny, right? It’s why I wanted to see you.”
I sank into the empty chair across from the desk, the same chair I’d sat in as a kid while Dad finished up paperwork, swinging my legs and waiting for him to take me for ice cream. The vinyl was cracked now, stuffing peeking through. “I need help. I need answers. I need to know if anyone’s heard anything—anything at all,” I pleaded. I was praying Rusty was the man I hoped he was and not a traitor, that the warmth in his eyes was real and not a mask. Surely, he would be willing to offer his services. But if Kreed was right…
The thought trailed off into darkness I wasn’t ready to face.
Kreed wanted me to pretend I didn’t suspect a thing, that I had no knowledge of a traitor among the Vipers. Asking Rusty for help was what I would have done, what the old me would have done without question. I would have run here at the first signs of trouble, seeking assurance from someone who was like family. So here I was, asking the man who’d bounced me on his knee as a child to help me find my best friend.
Rusty’s gruff demeanor softened slightly as he leaned back in his chair, the harsh lines around his eyes smoothing out, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the man who used to sneak me candy when Dad wasn’t looking. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I wish therewas something I could do, but I don’t know anything about those missing girls.”
I nodded as the little amount of hope I’d been clinging to deflated like a punctured balloon. My chest felt hollow, scraped clean of optimism. Kreed wouldn’t approve if I told Rusty about the ransom, about me being the prize they wanted, but I was tempted to spill my guts just to see his reaction. Would his face change? Would he get uncomfortable, shifting in his seat? Would he have no reaction at all, the kind of blank stare that came from already knowing the truth?
Rusty rubbed a weathered hand over his face, his callused fingers rasping against his beard. “I don’t know what I can do. I haven’t heard anything specific, but I’ll ask around. See if any of the guys know something.” He dropped his hand, meeting my eyes with what looked like genuine concern. “The streets don’t stay quiet for long when bad shit’s going down.”
