I blink. “Wait—what?”
Sam frowns. “Did you fuck someone in a confessional? Bro.”
Trey shakes his head. “No.”
Chace zips up a duffel and tosses it aside. “Why the hell would a pastor be after you?”
Trey pauses, then says, “Because I’m helping his daughter.”
Silence settles between us. Distant sirens. Horns. Music from a few floors up.
Sam raises a brow. “You’re being real vague, mouthpiece. How are you helping her?”
Trey’s smile is thin. “Escape.”
Chace whistles low. “A one-word answer? Holy shit, Trey’s evolving.”
“Escape what?” I ask. “Shitty relationship? Drugs?”
“Maybe,” he says. “Still figuring it out.”
I study him. “You serious?”
His smirk fades. “Dead serious. Her dad…this pastor—Padre—is a real fire-and-brimstone type.”
“So, how’d you get involved?”
“Met her one night. She was shaken. Saw the signs.”
“If it’s that bad, you think about calling the cops?”
“She says she tried once. Won’t do it again.” He swallows. “Called her the Whore of Babylon and cut off all her hair.”
“What the fuck,” Sam mutters.
“Calling him insane would be letting him off too easy,” Trey says. “He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Chace leans on the armrest. “So, where’s the girl now?”
Trey’s voice drops. “Said she’d find me.”
He says it like he believes it. Like he’s already waiting.
Chace exhales. “So, she’s gone to ground…and her dad’s like…you?”
Trey snorts. “Not far off. I went back to where we met. Met him there.”
“Alright,” Sam says, slinging an arm around Trey. “You could’ve just said, ‘Met a guy, and now he wants to kill me.’ That’s your usual vibe anyway.”
“Love you too, Baldy.”
“Sounds like you’re sticking your nose into family drama,” Chace says.
“If you ever need backup—”
“I know,” Trey cuts in. “You guys are always there. We’re family.”
“Actually,” Sam adds, helping Trey up, “Logan was probably gonna say call your tattoo artist friends instead.”
