That’s it.
It’s clearly the room where the accountant did all of his work, and probably where they kept the cash hidden, but there’s almost nothing left to show for it. No computer, no notes, no accountant. It’s pretty easy to put the pieces together, and we all stand frozen, taking it in.
No one seems to want to say what we all know is true, and the silence stretches on for a while.
My palms are clammy, and I shiver despite the trickle of sweat working its way down my back. I can only hope that wherever the Jackals took this Alex guy, he’s okay. There aren’t any real signs of a violent struggle—or at least, there are no massive puddles of blood or anything to suggest Alex was shot in this room.
But given the disorder in the room, I have a feeling Alex was home when the Jackals burst in. I’m worried about what this means for the Black Roses, but also what it means for the accountant himself.
It’s such a fucked up web. Getting dragged this deep into gang business is just asking to get hurt, and I wish I’d never become a part of any of this shit. But it’s too late now. I’m in so far over my head that I can’t even see the light above the surface of the water anymore, and standing in this room, staring at the direct results of my fuck-up, I feel a heavy weight settle on my chest.
The silence stretches on and on, getting uncomfortable. It’s hard to tell whether we stand in the empty room for a few minutes or an hour—I’ve lost all sense of time.
Then, true to form, Sloan breaks the tension by making it worse. He kicks one of the few remaining bricks of cash, sending it flying into a wall. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there, breathing hard, gun in hand.
“They looted our fucking cash,” Levi breathes, dragging a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe it.”
“They got Alex, too,” Rory adds, shaking his head. “Fucking assholes.”
I don’t say anything. No one needs to hear from me, especially considering it’s my fault.
Sloan’s dad will be sending people for backup, maybe even coming himself, and he’ll have something to say about all of this, I’m sure. It’s all such a mess, and I know there’s nothing I can do to fix it now.
We stand there for another minute, as if somehow it will change what’s right in front of us, and then Sloan turns to leave.
He grabs my arm on the way out, and Rory and Levi flank us both.
24
As we near the front door, the slamming of car doors outside puts me on alert for a second, my whole body tensing for a fight. I envision more Jackals pouring into the house and starting some kind of massive shoot-out.
But it’s just the backup Gavin sent, all armed like they’re ready for war.
They come blazing into the house, and Sloan meets them, stone-faced. “We were too late,” he says. “They got him. And most of the cash.”
That goes over like a lead balloon, and there’s a lot more cursing from the guys who’ve made it inside the house.
“What do we do now?” one of them asks, looking to Sloan to guide them. As the leader’s son, I guess it’s his job in a crisis like this.
“Clear out the remaining cash,” Sloan instructs. “Wipe the place clean and then get out. I’ve gotta go talk to Gavin.”
He sounds as grim as he looks when he says it.
The men Gavin sent move quickly to follow Sloan’s orders, and he leaves them to it. He grabs me again, and the four of us head back to the car, piling in once more.
The tension in the vehicle isn’t wound quite as tightly as it was on the drive to the accountant’s house, but that’s because the mood seems to have darkened. Everyone is quiet, probably all thinking about the ramifications of what’s happened. I twist my fingers in my lap, worry eating a hole in my gut.
It’s my fault, and we all know it.
Levi and Rory haven’t spoken any words of blame toward me, but with the way Sloan is grinding his teeth as he drives, I know he’s thinking it. He said he has to go talk to Gavin, and apparently we’re all going with him. My blood runs cold just thinking about it. The last time I saw that man, he threatened to kill my dad for double-crossing the Black Roses.
It’s a silent car ride until we get to a bar in the middle of town. It’s one of those that blends into the rest of the businesses on the street, that you wouldn’t look twice at if you walked past it, unless you really wanted a drink.
The way Sloan parks around back and heads for the back entrance makes it clear it’s one of the many businesses in town that the Black Roses own or have connections to.
Once inside, we walk down a dimly lit hallway before Sloan knocks on a door that says Management.
“Come in,” a deep voice calls from inside, and I recognize it as his dad’s.