“I can’t believe someone would do this. And why? After the wealth I’ve given them, the peace I’ve fought so fucking hard for.”
“Why?” Wallstreet chuckled. “Anyone who knows you knows your past is your driving force.”
“But that? Shit!”
The guard shuffled closer, his hand closing over a baton on his hip.
Wallstreet looked over his shoulder, smiling. “All good, Mark. Just a bit of human passion, is all.”
“Fair enough. Just keep it down.” The guard melted against the door again. The power Wallstreet had was impressive.
I piped up. “If you’re wondering who betrayed you, I know who took me.”
Silence fell like thick snow.
Why oh why didn’t I mention it before? It never came up. I’d been so enamored with reliving our love, I hadn’t had time to mention the man with the lighter.
Stupid.
“What did you just say?” Arthur asked, his face growing black.
Shit, if my emotions weren’t already stretched to capacity, I would’ve felt sorry for the man I was about to out.
My heart raced.
“Lighter Boy. I don’t know his name, but he was at the lunch when you came back after three days away. By the way, that reminds me. What were you doing for those three days?”
Now was not the time to ask, but the question fell out unbidden. He’d been bruised and reeking of alcohol. It seemed a little out of character—I couldn’t imagine him willingly becoming intoxicated; he liked control too much.
Probably because he was stripped of it when he was thrown in jail.
It was Wallstreet who replied. “He was doing what I requested. Not only has Killian taken my instruction and done more than I ever hoped, but he also runs an empire that has many facets.”
My hands balled. “What facets?”
Wallstreet smiled. “You know in your heart he isn’t just a biker. Sure, Pure Corruption is his family, as much as it is mine, but it’s beyond that now.”
Arthur grumbled. “Those three days I was socializing with a few contacts. Building friendships with men in power that will increase our reach. And, if you must know, I spent a lot of time at the beach where I took you last night… going over the past.”
My arms ached to hug him, while my mind was desperate to break open his brain and see the truth.
Wallstreet nodded. “Everything I’ve given Arthur is nothing compared to what he’s giving back. Kill is the smartest, most capable man I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet, Ms. Price. You should be immensely proud of all that he’s achieved.”
I crossed my arms, feeling possessive and pissed off. He spoke as if he owned Arthur. As if Arthur was nothing without the things he’d learned from Wallstreet. I knew differently. I’d had the pleasure of knowing the boy before he fell into Wallstreet’s clutches and I couldn’t separate my rage at having to share him with this man, and the common sense that Wallstreet had saved him.
“What does Lighter Boy look like?” Arthur asked, bringing the conversation back to focus.
Sighing, I said, “He plays with a lighter, has brown hair, hazel eyes, and is skinny.”
Arthur’s attention turned inward, figuring out which of his brothers was responsible.
I took his silence as another opportunity to trip Wallstreet up. “How long have you been in here?”
Wallstreet grinned, letting tension ebb. “Seventeen years. Been a while.”
So I can’t have known him from before.
“When will you get out?”
He shrugged. “That depends on God, I suppose. I have another five to serve, but I hope that will be reduced. However, I won’t know until I’m walking free from those gates.”
The way he moved nudged my thoughts again, begging to connect the dots.
“Alligator. Fucking Adam ‘Alligator’ Braxton,” Arthur suddenly growled.
“Ah yes. I remember you saying he’d been voted in by the brothers but you still withheld judgment,” Wallstreet muttered.
An image of the alligator tattoo on Lighter Boy’s neck came back to me. “Yep, that’s him.”
Wallstreet grinned, doting on Arthur as if he was his favorite pupil. “I trust you to take care of it.”
Arthur shuddered. “Damn right, I will. Fucking asswipe.” Snatching my hand on the table, he squeezed my fingers painfully. “He’s not coming near you again. I’ll call Grasshopper to track him and put him on lockdown.”
Wallstreet sat taller in his chair. “How is Grasshopper?”
My ears pricked.
“He’s well. Setting in place the final pieces to take down Dagger Rose.”
“That’s good,” Wallstreet said, his blue eyes bright with interest.
Then it all suddenly made sense.
The blue eyes, the dimple, the identical traits.
Oh my God.
They were related.
Grasshopper and Wallstreet are related.
My muscles trembled with the realization. I wanted to ask—to confirm my suspicions—but something held me back.
Looking at Arthur, I tried to see if he knew the correlation between his right-hand man and the benefactor who’d brought him under his wing.
Arthur was president. He was the law in his world. But really he was as much a pawn as I was. The king sat across from us smiling and waving as perfect as any sovereign, getting others to do his dirty work, all while keeping his hands clean.
“What is it, my dear?” Wallstreet leaned forward, patting my forearm. “You look as if you’ve tasted something rather disgusting.”