Page 55 of Forged in Rain

Shaking my head, I lean into my arms and mutter, “We’re going to prison.”

“Please, we’re not going anywhere, especially not if Jagger gets to us first. I wonder why he magically appeared now,” she says.

“How did you get mixed up with him?” Hate asks.

“He approached me. After a party,” Iris says, glancing at me.

I can feel Cyn’s eyes boring into the side of my head, but I studiously ignore him. Besides, he knows about that party. It’s where I saw Saul and Jagger together.

“To get info on Cyn?” Hate asks in a commanding tone, and I see Iris wilt a little for the first time.

I don’t blame her. Hate is fucking scary.

“That’s what he said,” she mutters, avoiding his gaze.

“And what did you tell him?”

“There’s nothing to tell. It’s not like I was let in on the action,” she says, giving me a pointed look.

I’m guessing this is unusual, for Cyn to allow anyone else behind the curtain but to hear him say it, after my supposed betrayal, he didn’t want to touch me, and this was the only other way. Was that a lie?

Glancing at him suspiciously, I find him gazing back at me steadily, and when I raise a brow, his mouth quirks, but his eyes are still cool as he looks at me with a crinkled brow. Flushing to my toes, I suck in a breath and look away because, with just one smile, he’s got me practically squirming.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You fucked half the town to off your piece of shit uncle. Said uncle is gone. But you don’t know who fucking did it, and in the meantime, his nephew approached you asking about Cyn?” Hate asks dryly.

“Pretty much,” Iris admits, her dark eyes shining.

“Was this before or after John disappeared?” Cyn asks.

“Before, a few weeks before.”

Glancing at her silently, we share a look because she has information crucial to this conversation, but then again, so does Cyn.

“What?” Cyn growls because he doesn’t miss a single expression on my face.

With a sigh, I raise a brow and ask, “How did John have your number?”

Cyn glowers and turns to Hate, who’s got his brows raised in question. “John had my number in his little black book, but it’s not my normal number. It’s the number reserved for Cue.”

“Cue?” I mutter and Hate stands abruptly, growling, “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Cyn says.

Iris looks as confused as me, which is good because the bitch isn’t holding out on me for once.

“Who’s Cue?” I ask and Hate swings toward me, grabbing my arm.

“Ow,” I cry, accidentally kicking out my foot, which glances off the leg of the table. Shit, that hurts!

“Why the fuck do you have Cue’s number?” he snarls.

“Hate,” Cyn says, grabbing his hand and pulling him away.

“Fuck off! These bitches are more trouble than they’re worth, Cyn. You need to drop her,” Hate insists.

My stomach sinks to my knees, and I look away when Cyn says quietly, “Jagger specifically ordered me to watch her.”

I lift my lips in a parody of a smile because, of course, it’s the only reason I’m here, but the reality doesn’t damper the disappointment. Cyn doesn’t care about me; nobody here does except Iris, and she’s lost her fucking mind.

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