There weren’t coincidences in this business.
They knew he’d squealed, and there was payback in the works. The biggest question in his mind was, did they know about Ally?
He’d kept his sister and niece secret for so long, and now the very worst sort of people knew about them.
Ally was here, within reach of a man that Wrench knew first hand had fewer morals than even he had ever had.
“What’s the problem?” Graham asked gruffly, pitched so that only Wrench would hear.
They were standing at the edge of the pad at the top of the resort, watching as one of the heavies got into the helicopter and started it. Scarlet, arms crossed, was clearly intent on staying until every last one of them was gone from her resort.
This suited Wrench just fine, because he knew that he would not be able to relax until he knew that Bruno was off the island.
“An old associate,” Wrench answered Graham in a similar tone.
Graham grunted his understanding.
But watching them fly off wasn’t the relief that Wrench was hoping for. So soon after Ally had arrived, Bruno’s visit could be nothing but a warning. They must know she was here, just as they knew that hurting her was more of a threat than anything they could threaten him with.
If he chose to continue on his plan to testify, he was jeopardizing Ally, as he’d already risked Renna.
Could he go back?
All he had to do was turn his back on Laura and Jenny. It wouldn’t be hard to get a phone call back to his contacts with Blacksmith. The staff at Shifting Sands trusted him now; it would be ridiculously simple to merely complete his contract, and deliver either of the sisters to satisfy the terms. Ally and Renna would be safe—as safe as the double-edged protection of the cartel could make them.
Which was a helluva lot safer than a rag-tag resort staff on a tropical island could keep them.
But Lydia… Lydia thought he was better than that.
He was used to disappointing himself, but he could not for a moment bring himself to disappoint her.
A terrible thought occurred to him.
What if the cartel found out about Lydia?
He rubbed his brow crossly as Scarlet turned to dismiss them. “Thank you for your assistance, gentlemen. I will return you to your regular duties.”
She looked tired for a moment, then her usual expression of confidence returned as she tipped her face up to the sunlight. The oppressive heat did not seem to bother her. Though Graham and Wrench were both sweating, she looked as cool as ever as she left them to stride back through the resort entrance towards her office.
“You okay?” Graham asked.
Wrench knew that a shrug or a one-line response would get Graham to leave him alone, and before this week—before this crazy resort of people who actually cared for each other, or the unexpected discovery of his mate, that’s exactly what he would have done.
But instead, he surprised even himself by asking Graham, “You ever feel like you’re only really good at awful shit?”
Seeing Bruno had reminded him too keenly that however hard Wrench tried to fit in here, his real skills were violence and mayhem.
Graham gave him a long thoughtful look. “Yeah,” he said at last. “When I was a kid, I did underground shifter matches. They pay good money if you can fight, and I can fight.” He said it with the same sort of confidence that Wrench knew too well. “But it’s a… bad scene.”
It was more words than Wrench had ever heard from Graham, and he was surprised to recognize the faintest hint of a British accent.
“It isn’t the violence that’s the problem,” Graham continued. “Fighting, guns, they’re each just another sport. But you draw money into the mix and you start to get people that make money their goal and don’t care who gets hurt.”
Wrench stared at him.
“What?” Graham asked.
“That was unexpectedly fucking deep,” Wrench said. “You don’t talk like a groundskeeper.”