“What the fuck are you talking about, Izzy?”
A stretch of silence, then, “The plan.”
“What plan?”
My nerves make another rise. The AC in this place works a little too well, and the air is frigid enough to send chills across my skin. At least, I think it's the air. Then again, there's an uneasy feeling growing in my gut.
“The plan that will take out Gram and his entire operation in one shot.”
The anticipation of bad news spikes into red hot anger, a temper I didn't quite expect. I've been playing fucking bartender for days, with no word from Maria and now Izzy's telling me they have a fucking plan?
“And was the plan to leave me the fuck out?” I growl, ignoring Eva's wide eyes and probing interest in what has me so quickly worked up. She may like my charm, but she doesn't know me and she's not even important at the moment.
More silence. Maybe, for the first time ever, Isaiah and I can relate to each other. She sidelined us both.
Then he says, “I think so.”
“Fucking hell,” I spit under my breath.
“They left about twenty minutes ago without a word and with a big ass gun. They told me the plan, they said two days, but I think they meant to leave us out. I think it's going down tonight.”
The urge to hang up makes my hand twitch around my phone, the urge to break something rages equally as strong. After all the times I swore to her that I'd follow her to hell and back, and she didn't even include me in the plan? And she left Izzy sitting on her grandmother's plantation.
“That bitch,” I hiss.
Eva has retreated to the other side of the bed, sitting there in an oversized t-shirt, hair crazy from sleep.
Izzy sighs then says, “Get something to write with. I'm going to give you the addresses. They'll be splitting up once they get into town.”
The rage makes it impossible to be still. I shoot to my feet, only barely keeping myself from punching the wall. Violence is not normally my way of dealing with shit, but the tang of betrayal is bitter. I don't even care that I'm naked.
“What the fuck do I care what they're doing?”
He's so quiet, seemingly calm, but his voice comes flat when he says, “We can't leave their backs open. They're risking too much.”
Everything. They're risking everything. For a long time, I can't do anything but see red.
“Josh?”
Now I'm the one who sighs and it's a much more aggravated thing than his was. I can't quite check my emotions. Maybe it's from being blindsided out of a dead sleep, or maybe it's being isolated from my crew, the closest thing to friends that I have. Is he right? She left us hanging. Shouldn't we leave her to it? Could I live with myself if something happens to her? Not likely.
“So what's this plan?”
I click on the light as he fills me in on the details. Eva's server apron is on the floor near the bed, so I dig her book and a pen out of it. Then I start to pace like this is my own room. She watches all of this with a wary interest, content to sit quietly.
Izzy gives me both the address for the building where Maria will post up and the garage where Frederick will set up the truck. Then he says, “I'm going to find a ride out of here if I have to steal it. I've already lost too much time.”
The drunken playboy who tossed Eva around in the sheets for a while is gone. All the charm and game have disappeared. This is business. It's something else, too, a chance to prove to all of them that I'm not a stupid kid.
“Fine. Keep me posted.”
The line goes dead and I lower the phone in slow motion. Still, I want to chuck it against the wall. Instead I pin Eva with a serious look and say, “I need a ride back to the restaurant.”
It's not really a request, and it doesn't come out as one. Even if she didn't expect such an authoritative tone, she just nods dumbly. She looks scared but crawls out of bed anyway.
My gaze drifts down to my clothes scattered across the floor. Maria, all she had to do was tell me to go. That's it, but she didn't fucking say a word. I should have known something wasn't right when Freddy split in the middle of the night. I should have known she wouldn't trust me. And here I am, running along after her feet like a goddamned puppy.
I look back to my phone, flip through the contacts until I find Jack's number. I hit call as I start pulling on my boxers. By the time he answers, I've gotten my shorts on, too. He sounds drunk.
“Shit's going down. I need a vehicle.”
Even drunk, Jack's a smart guy. There's a moment of collection from him, then he rumbles back.
“The tranny is shot in my truck. Take Noah's 'stang. If anything happens to it, though, he'll kill you. That's not an exaggeration.”
I hoist my messenger bag onto the bed and dig around inside until I find my Glock 40. I pop the magazine to make sure it's full, my movements pure habit. I hear Eva gasp, but I ignore her.
“I'll be there shortly,” I tell Jack.
“10-4.”
I hook my holster onto my belt and dock my gun. My eyes are roving the floor, but I can't find my shirt. My frustration must show, because Eva tentatively touches my shoulder. My answering gaze is hard, and I almost feel bad for her. None of this has anything to do with her. She shouldn't have to see this side of my life. She points to my t-shirt, hanging over the footboard
