“Problem solver, Dante!” She muttered sarcastically.
“Well fuck me then, I guess. I won’t bother reassuring you,” I snapped back. She shrugged, turning her head to look out of the window.
I recognised her body well enough now to know the signs of her being nervous. She might look blank, but there were tell-tale signs. One of those being her index finger tapping against her thigh. She only let it tap once before she forced it to remain still, but she would lose focus, and it would tap again out of habit. There was also a tick in her neck. A very subtle tick, but when you knew to look for it, it was easily noticeable. She also had a habit of keeping her lips tighter than normal. Again, a very small detail, and nothing that would be noticeable to others who weren’t overly familiar with the shape of her full mouth, but I was, and I noticed the tightness to her lips as she forced herself not to chew her lip.
And like the fool I was, despite her shitty attitude, I had to reassure her. I had to offer her a moment of peace. Even if the signs were subtle, they screamed loudly at me.
“Don’t worry about Ben and Callum,” I said softly. “Ben’s body was fed to pigs' miles away weeks ago. Even if the cops knew where to look, he’s long gone now. Macbeth was cremated when the Riders sent him back to us, and they kept Callum. Whatever they did with his corpse, the trail leads back to them, not us. Besides, the Riders are more likely to form an alliance with us than they are to work alongside the police.”
“Even after what went down tonight?” She said quietly.
“That was revenge. It didn’t involve the police.”
She scoffed again.
“Right, what do you know that I don’t?”
“You mean Vienna didn’t tell you?” She looked at me then, a strange expression on her face. “Shocker.”
“Tell me what?” There was that knot again.
“I killed their new president.”
“I beg your fucking pardon?”
“Or is it vice president? Was he even sworn in yet? I don’t fucking know. Whoever he was, I killed him.”
Shit.
Shit!
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
“Some woman held me at gunpoint. Vienna intervened. Some man came along and shouted to Vienna that he warned him to stay away from his sister—”
“Gabriella was there?” I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
This was an absolute fucking disaster.
“So, you do know who Gabriella is,” she snapped at me.
“Of fucking course I know who Gabriella is!”
“When I asked you—”
“That’s not important right now, Rachel.”
“Oh, no. God forbid we address your constant lying and bullshit.”
“Rachel…” I warned.
“Fine! The bloke screamed at Vienna and pulled a gun. What was I supposed to do? Let Vienna die? Don’t be so ridiculous. I shot first.”
I didn’t reply to her. I quickly pulled out my phone and rang Vienna, the dialling noise coming through the car's Bluetooth.
“Sup, Boss?” Vienna answered on the second ring.
“Damien’s dead?”
