My temper spikes when I come across a photo of her with another guy. She’s taking a selfie with him at what looks like a bar. His arm is around her waist. Her head is on his shoulder. And what pisses me off more than the fact that they look too comfortable, is the patch he’s wearing—Death Mob. And what’s worse than that is I recognize him.
It’s Fin.
I shoot the picture to my phone, then delete the message. Diem is still asleep, so without drawing any attention to myself, I slide the phone under her seat. Leaning back, I study the picture from my own phone a minute before I send it to Rookie. The date was months ago, but she was alone with him only days ago. Was she playing us both?
Don’t do anything stupid.
Rookie’s text has me cutting my eyes at him. Then texting back.
I’m not an amateur . . . ROOKIE.
He smirks, putting his phone back in his pocket. The clock on the dash reads a quarter after eleven, and I’m ready for some lunch and to take a piss.
As if she could hear my thoughts, Diem wakes up seeming dazed and confused. Looking in the backseat, she raises an eyebrow at me, looks over at Rookie, then finally to Clark. “I’m fucking starving. Let’s eat.”
He nods. “We’re almost to Allentown, ma’am,” he says, his voice cool and level.
“Shit! Already?” she asks in a panic, looking around for her phone. She’s searching the seat and the floor and her purse and I’ve never seen her like this. It’s pretty comical. “I can’t find my fucking phone!” she roars, and I wonder if it’s the “Do it” message she’s so anxious to read.
“Look between the console and your seat,” I suggest, leaning forward in an attempt to help her. She’s digging, her breathing coming in quick bursts. Damn, she really is in a panic. Feeling sorry for her, I grab the phone, pushing it toward her fingers.
“Wait,” she says, concentrating hard while her arm is shoved down in the side of the seat. “I think I felt it.” Pulling her arm out, she holds the phone in her hand, furiously punching in the code and retrieving the message. I lean back and watch her as she lets out a sigh of relief. Then turning to Clark she says, “We’ll be staying in Allentown tonight.”
“Babe,” I whine. “Come on. We haven’t been on the road for six hours. I thought this was a road trip.” I catch Rookie’s smile out of the corner of my eye at my dramatics.
“Look,” she snaps, positioning herself so that Rookie and I both can see her. “This isn’t a field trip. It’s business. There are still a lot of people out there riding in your territory wearing Death Mob cuts. So I suggest you man up and jump on the kill Death Mob bandwagon.”
Before I can stop myself, I’m putting my foot in my mouth. “Like Fin? Is he on that bandwagon too? Or are we handing out special privileges?”
“Do I look like an idiot to you?” she asks, not at all surprised at my assumptions about her and Fin. I don’t answer because I don’t think I could say the right thing in this moment. “Fin is my problem. But if there is something you want to know, why don’t you just ask. Stop being . . .” She gestures her hand toward me, scrunching her face into a scowl. “So . . . Shady.”
I guess the pun is intended. “Are you working with him? Because I didn’t hear any gunshots after I walked out of the bar, so therefore, I’m assuming he isn’t dead. That is, unless you cooked him something.” I give her a sardonic smile, which she is kind enough to give back.
“Yes, I am. I needed a man on the inside. And he’s my man.” I want to roar when she refers to someone else as her man. Someone that isn’t me.
“You don’t actually think you can trust him do you?” I ask incredulously.
She rolls her eyes. “Of course I don’t trust him, you fuckwad. But money talks and bullshit walks and life is one hell of a bargaining tool for someone who’s facing the death penalty. Do your job. Shut up. And let me do mine.”
I look at Rookie, who gives me a shrug. So maybe she does know what she’s doing. And in my eyes, she’d just earned herself some respect. But it means nothing if she isn’t aware of it. So I say two words and then vow to never say them again. Although, I’m sure they’ll bite me in the ass sooner or later.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Diem instructs Clark to pull into a drive-through, and I try to prepare myself for the clusterfuck I’m sure is to come. Could we not go inside? Or eat somewhere a little nicer than fucking McDonalds? Thinking back to our one and only date, I think she chose this place on purpose.