Page 40 of Forged in Rain

“Yes, why? Was he working for you?” I whisper.

“No, I’ve never met the dick,” he says, but there’s a whisper of something in his tone that sends a shiver of unease down my spine.

“What are you not saying?”

Sitting back in his seat, he stares out the windshield and Jig says quietly, “What book, LB?”

Pulling it out of my bag, I hand it over to him, and he flips through the pages, stopping on a number I couldn’t track down.

Glancing at me warily, he says, “Hate’s number is in here, too.”

“Give me that,” Cyn says gruffly.

Jig hands it over and Bastion turns to me asking coldly, “You’re saying this is John’s?”

Bristling, I mutter, “What? You don’t believe me? Why would I lie? I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Because you’ve lied about everything else!” Cyn barks, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “What kind of fucked-up game are you playing now?”

“Game? I’m not the one playing games,” I sneer.

With a rude look, he says softly, “Maybe I’ve miscalculated all along. I guess I should have known. Who sent you?”

“Huh?”

“Who fucking sent you, Rain?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about! I found that damn book in his nightstand. I should be asking you why he’s calling you? Is he a part of the slave trade y’all work in?” I say snidely.

The silence after my statement is deafening, and Cyn glares at me coldly before putting the car in gear. Tensely, I watch the scenery fly by, flinching with my hand on the handle when he stops before my house and says, “Get the fuck out.”

Stepping from the vehicle on trembling limbs, I raise my eyes to his when he says, “Rainbow? I don’t know where the fuck you came from, but I will find out the truth. And when I do, I’ll fucking crush you.”

Without answering, I walk away, only breaking down when I’m behind the door in my room, where I stare at the wall all evening and never emerge.

Chapter Six

The remainder of the week is horrible. I follow the dicks around and pretend I’m happy as they suck face with bitches and keep me at arm’s length, all while insisting I remain part of their group.

Cyn is so icy I’m frozen in his presence and Jig, equally cold, is also unusually quiet. I mourn the loss of my friend, feeling distinctly alone among this close-knit group, and sadly I note Jig is also avoiding Cyn, trading icy stares when they think no one is looking.

On Friday, I’m dropped at home and glad for the reprieve when I step inside the house, only to stop with confusion when I find none other than Jagger in my living room.

He’s cleaned himself up, his long dark hair brushed back from his face, wearing jeans and a button-up, but he can’t hide his evil from me.

He stands when I enter, and Pam looks over her shoulder at me absently. “Oh hey, hon, how was school?”

“Um, fine,” I mutter, shifting uneasily under Jagger’s stare.

What the fuck is he doing here?

“Good, good. Rain, this is John’s nephew, Jake. Jake, this is my niece, Rain.”

Nephew? Are you fucking kidding me? I weave in place, and I’m pretty sure all the blood drains from my face.

Jagger smiles at me with a glint in his eyes, and I cast back in my brain to try to remember just what I said to this fuck about John. But I don’t exactly remember, and now he’s likely to put two and two together.

Holy shit. Is this it then? Caught out by the last person I would’ve assumed was affiliated with John? Although I guess I can’t be surprised because clearly John was associated with them all somehow.

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