Zeth laughs bitterly. “The Widow Makers don’t deal weed. Maybe they used to run it from state to state every once in a while, but not in a long ass time.”
For a moment, we all sit in silence, mulling on the information we’ve just received. Lowell’s trying to pin Lacey’s murder on Zeth. Ironic that he’s killed a fair few people in his time and yet Lacey, the one person he didn’t kill, is potentially going to mean trouble for him. Perhaps Lowell knows Zeth isn’t responsible for Lacey’s death, and perhaps she doesn’t. Either way, she’ll bend every rule and limbo under red tape until she finds a way to make the charge stick.
“What have you told her?” Zeth demands, crossing the room toward Mason. The kid leans back into his chair, eyes full of steel, jaw set. He’s determined not to show fear.
“I told her about Michael,” he says. “I said I thought he was probably doing a lot of your dirty work for you.”
Michael laughs. “Charming.”
“I don’t know, man. I had to tell her something. She’s convinced something illegal’s going on at the gym, like you might be dealing drugs or guns there or something. She told me to stick around after hours as often as I could and eavesdrop on any meetings you might have.”
“And how did that work out for you?” Zeth’s lips are pressed together, turned white from the pressure he’s applying to them. This version of him is an echo, a ghost of the man he was when we first met. He’s still so shut off sometimes, so stern and stoic when interacting with the outside world, but he’s a million times better than he used to be. The wall that stood between him and the rest of society has been deconstructed for a while now; it’s strange and unpleasant to see it go back up again so easily now.
“I told her the truth—that you don’t have meetings there. She didn’t believe me, though. She wanted me to stay later. Go over there every day. She’d know if I didn’t show up. That’s why she called today. She knew I was at the hospital instead of at the gym.”
“And where does she think you are now?” Zeth asks.
Mason rubs his chin with his fingertips. “Who the fuck knows. She’ll know I’m not at the gym, and I’m sure she’ll know I’m not with Millie. She’ll probably think you’ve figured me out and you’re about to murder my ass,” he says, glaring accusingly at up Zeth.
God, if he’s trying to ingratiate himself with the man, he’s really not doing a great job. He has a point, though. “Why don’t you just take Mason back to the hospital?” I have no reason to think Zeth will listen to me, he rarely does, but it would be better for everyone involved if he does just this once. “Lowell wouldn’t expect you to let Mason go if you were to find out that he’s been watching you for her. She’ll expect you to hurt him and make him disappear. Take him back to the hospital and she’ll be none the wiser.”
“Sloane’s right,” Michael adds. “That way we could use him to feed her the information we want her to know and nothing else.”
“And have him coming into the gym every day? Around you and now my fucking girlfriend? I don’t think so.”
“So what? You’re going to kill him? Right in front of me? You’re not even going to consider sparing a stupid kid’s life? He was only acting to protect his sister, Zeth.”
Mason’s eyes flash with anger—he clearly doesn’t like being called a stupid kid—but he refrains from saying anything. Probably the smartest thing he’s done since he walked into the room. Zeth turns his full attention on me for the first time since he walked in with Mason.
“You’re the one who told me what he’d done, Sloane. You’re the one who called me the moment you heard him on the phone with Lowell.”