Razor texts: Oz is wearing the same fucking thing. I’m saving my pics of him for blackmail later. I’m thinking he’s buying beers for the next six months.

Me: Sounds good to me. Anything on Vi?

Razor: Nothing

Fuck me.

Another buzz.

Oz: I think we got problems.

I sit up straighter and the detective looks up from his own cell and watches me like a hawk on a mouse.

Me: What?

Oz: Few minutes before Violet showed, we noticed a blond guy pull up and plant himself at the coffee shop. Problem is—he watches the world more than he’s reading his magazine and he’s watching intently.

Me: Making Violet’s tail is the problem?

Oz: No. The fact that the Riot are noticing him is the problem. They make him and Violet has major problems.

Razor: Riot on the move. Tell him to get the fuck out of there.

“Tell your guy at the coffee shop to get out of there now. The Riot think there’s something wrong with him.”

Detective doesn’t even blink as he talks into the radio. “Kurt, you need to move. You are on the verge of being compromised.”

Confirmation back and Razor texts me: Your guy is moving. Acting like he got a phone call and he’s all pissed off his Tinder date forgot their meeting at the coffee shop. Riot backing off. Smooth move by the police, but now Violet’s down a gun on her side.

If I was a weaker man, I’d be intimidated by the glare the detective’s giving me. Good thing I’m a McKinley, because I see that type of look daily.

Other people radio in that they now spot the new-to-them Riot players and confirm the Riot were questioning the guy at Starbucks.

“Tell me how you knew that,” Barlow demands.

“Oz and Razor are watching at the restaurant down the street. How about you tell me how you’re going to keep Violet safe now that we’re down a man.”

“Your friends being there are putting Violet in danger.”

“My friends just saved Violet and your cop. I’m going to ask one more time, how are you going to protect Violet now that you’ve lost a pair of eyes?”

Oz: I don’t like this. She’s been in there too long and some of the Riot are bugging out. Not all, but some. Do they have eyes on the back of this place?

That humming that saturated my brain after the kidnapping returns and it’s hard as hell to not throw my fist into the wall to try to control it. Me: Police have it under control.

“You sure you know what you’re doing? You have a guy that was almost made and there are Riot leaving the area.”

The detective’s on the radio asking for updates, telling people to watch, telling people to move around. I stand and kick the recycling box into the hallway. Papers fly everywhere. These people have no idea what they’re doing.

Razor: What if they don’t have it under control? I agree, she’s been in there too long. Maybe we pull rank. Maybe we should end this bullshit now.

“What are they seeing?” the detective snaps. “Tell me who exactly is watching my men.”

“Tell me who’s taking care of Violet?” I shout back.

He doesn’t bat an eye as he says, “I am and Violet agreed to let me be the person in charge of this. If you can’t trust me, fine, but trust her. She agreed to all this and was dead set that you follow the plan. I’m down a man, you saved his ass and now I need help making sure everyone else stays in place. Tell me who else is watching that street.”

Oz: I agree with Razor. We should move in on this.

My gut twists and I rub the back of my neck as I try to grab hold of my emotions. The humming grows louder and the only thought is that I want Violet safe. I want her safe and back in my arms.

“Chevy,” the detective says. “Tell me who else is watching the street.”

My cell buzzes again and a decision of which way I’m going on this has to be made.

Violet

MY ENTIRE BODY buzzes with nervous anticipation. Skull just brought up Eli and that’s what I need—him to admit out loud what he’s going to do with the account numbers. “I have the account numbers. Some are for the security business. Some belong to the club.”

Skull’s lips twist into what I believe is a grin. “Excellent. Hand them over and I’ll make sure that the Riot and the Terror live out the rest of their lives in peace.”

But I don’t reach into my back pocket. Those numbers are my only leverage. “What are you going to do with them?”

“We told you. With those numbers we’re going to take care of Eli.”

“Not sure if you remember correctly, but when everything was explained to me, someone you know had just tried to shoot me in the head. Details of anything after that are fuzzy.” No, they aren’t. They are so crystal clear I can smell the mold in the basement, taste the fear on my tongue and shiver with the coldness of the air.

“Are you having a change of heart?” Justin takes out a pocketknife and makes a show of flipping it open. It’s not a long blade, but from the glint I can tell it’s sharp. He begins to clean his nails with the tip. The man’s crazy. Utterly and completely crazy. But he’s sending a message. A very loud and possibly violent message.

“I heard you had a heartwarming moment with Eli yesterday morning,” Justin continues. “Involved pancakes and singing ‘Happy Birthday.’”

I grow light-headed. I’m tired of being watched, tired of being put under a microscope by these men. And I thought the Terror were controlling. “You need to find a new hobby. Watching a teenage girl is a bit sick and perverted. Maybe you should stare at fish like your dad.”