“You know who he is?” he asked in surprise.
“Son of the dead man,” I replied grimly.
“Ain’t that some shit,” he muttered. “What do you need?”
“I’ll spread the word,” I told him as I grabbed clothes out of my dresser. “Siah and Eph, here. They can wait it out and see who comes to play. You, Eli, and Lu, meet up with us. Until we know what we’re dealin’ with, probably best if we all lay low.”
“You think they got a look at us?”
“No clue,” I replied, pulling my jeans on. “Wilson took care of the cameras, but there’s a chance. Very few ways he could’ve linked me to Cecilia, and that’s one of them.”
“Gotcha.”
“Meet you in the desert,” I said, referring to one of the safe houses we’d bought as a group. There were four, spread out as randomly as possible.
“Roger that.”
As I got dressed, I called the rest of the team and let them know what was happening and where they needed to be. Thankfully, none of them said a word of complaint. We all knew at some point we’d be caught up in some shit. We’d just never realized that it wouldn’t be connected to one of our jobs.
“All set?” I asked, meeting everyone in the kitchen.
“She’s going to be hungry soon,” Cecilia said as she fussed with the baby’s blanket inside her car seat.
“You can feed her on the road,” I replied. I picked up a few of the bags that were waiting on the kitchen table.
“Farrah’s riding with you,” Casper announced as he lifted the baby’s car seat. “Me and Cam will follow.”
With a nod, I led the group out of the house.
“How you doin’?” I asked as I helped Cecilia into the back seat of the truck. She had just enough room to slide her feet in. An uncharacteristic rain shower meant I couldn’t put her stuff in the bed of the truck and the floorboard was covered with bags full of baby supplies.
“I’m scared,” she said, her hands clenched into fists. “Pissed. And I feel like shit for dragging everyone into this.”
“Don’t,” I replied, brushing her hair away from her face. I left my hand there for longer than necessary, because her skin felt hot.
“Let’s move,” Casper called as Farrah hopped into the front seat of the truck.
“It’s gonna be fine,” I told Cecilia.
I slammed her door and climbed in the driver’s seat, the back of my neck tingling. Someone had their eyes on us. As I pulled out of the drive and headed toward the freeway, I kept a look out for anything out of the ordinary and didn’t find a damn thing. Whoever was helping the motherfucker was damn good at their job.
I was going to have to be better.
Chapter 7
Cecilia
We drove for a long time. Mark took residential streets, back-tracking and going in big circles before hopping on the freeway headed west. As time passed, I got more and more antsy. Sure, I’d grown up in an environment where bad shit happened and my family was constantly watching their backs, but I’d lived a relatively normal life since I moved away. I never could have imagined that becoming a surrogate for my best friend would somehow morph into running from a fucking madman.
Drake was creepy as hell, no doubt about it. He was just one of those guys that constantly gave off a bad vibe—well-dressed and seemingly normal, but you’d still cross the street in broad daylight so you didn’t have to pass by him. Still, I would’ve never guessed that he had it in him to kill Cane and Liv.
“How you doing?” my mom asked, turning in her seat to look at me. “Alright?”
“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a smile.
“Bullshit,” she scoffed. She wrapped her arms around the back of the seat and got comfortable. “Did you know that my boyfriend before your dad was shot right in front of my apartment building?”
“What?” I asked, my jaw dropping. I’d never even heard a whisper of that story.
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “A drive-by. It was—” she paused and shook her head. “It was different than what happened when you were a teenager. We lost family then, but it was almost like the grieving was postponed because we had so many living family members that we had to worry about. When Echo died, it was the opposite. Overwhelming. Immediate. Me, your dad, and your Aunt Callie were all there. She practically tackled me to keep me from going to him before it was over.”
“Holy shit,” I replied. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”
Mom shrugged. “It wasn’t relevant. Ancient history.”
“Still,” I said.
“And your dad never liked him,” she said with a crooked smile. “Thought he was too old for me—which he was—and thought he didn’t treat me the way he should’ve—which he hadn’t.”