Page 92 of Forged in Rain

She nods, and I clench my hand into a fist. Figuring this shit out just became more important than ever because that photo reminds me that there are more victims out there than just us.

Glancing at her, I say, my heart in my throat, “What about you? What are you going to do about your mom?”

“Rainy,” she says quietly, “I just want to feel safe.”

“Would she hurt us? You?”

“A few days ago, I would’ve said no. Now, I don’t know.”

My heart wrenches at her dull tone, and I spit, “We have to stop her.”

“Maybe, but right now, Rainy, we have to get to John. He’s the key.”

“Yeah, because everyone thinks I stole money.” I can’t help my sour tone, but she’s always one step ahead of me.

“No, they don’t.”

“Yeah, they do.”

“Rainy, I lied.”

Where is this all leading now?

“You what? Fuck. Iris.” I huff out a breath and grab the handle above my head. It’s either that or plant one on her nose.

“Look, it was better than the alternative,” she grumbles.

“Which was what?”

“Involving those dicks. Maybe I should have done it differently, but Rainy, having Cyn all up in what’s about to go down only complicates it. We don’t need emotion. We need to be clear-headed and willing to do what needs to be done.”

“Which is what?”

“Getting rid of John and the shit my mom’s up to. Besides, what was I supposed to do when you were fucking the dick who works for John’s nephew?”

“How about telling me the damn truth?”

“Whatever. This is dangerous. You think Cyn wouldn’t have told Jagger?” she asks, glancing at me with a grim smile.

“No! Besides, he didn’t know about John.”

“Don’t be stupid. How could he not?”

I mull over her words, my heart in my throat. Could Cyn have been lying this whole time? No, no way. Besides, he was working for Cue . . . Pam.

But Pam clearly knew about the girls. The fucking picture confirms that.

Eyeballing her skeptically, I say, “So you pushed Cyn away because of John?”

She shrugs, and I rub my aching brow. Was she pushing him away from the very start? Fuck, I don’t know, but my head hurts at the possibilities.

“Iris, you must have told someone about the money.”

“I didn’t. I only needed your fucking boyfriend to back off. I’ve got Jagger on my ass, and Cyn’s his little informant.”

“Then why is Paddy McCafferty asking me for it?”

“What?” She pulls to the side of the road, and I gasp, clenching the oh-shit bar as my head careens disturbingly close to the window.

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