DJ always wondered why his biological father had gone along with it, but had figured that Pastor held something incriminating over Waylon’s head. All of Eden’s founders had nasty skeletons in their closets.

“Can’t somebody else take him?” Kowalski demanded. “You have a crop to harvest.”

The grow houses. Shit. Kowalski was right about that. Kowalski would send a few of his guys to help, but the responsibility was DJ’s. His mind searched for a solution. “The doctor I need to use is in Santa Rosa. I can drive back and forth. It’ll be no problem.”

“What’s the doctor’s name?” Kowalski asked suspiciously, as if DJ had made it up.

Like I’d lie to Kowalski. Well, yeah, he would. He had. So he supposed Kowalski had a right to be suspicious.

“Burkett.” The man had provided meds whenever Coleen had requested something specific.

Kowalski hummed, amused. “Jason Burkett?”

DJ’s internal alarms began to scream. “Yes. Why?”

“Nothing. Just good luck with getting in touch with him. Not so sure that he’s getting good cell reception where he’s at right now.”

DJ blinked. “You know Burkett?”

“Not personally. He was all over the news a month ago. He was murdered in his home. Neck snapped like a twig. What’s really interesting, though, is that would have been less than twenty-four hours before you were shot.”

“Do they know who killed him?” DJ asked tightly, because he was pretty sure he knew.

“Some guy named Harry Franklin, who also went by Ephraim Burton.”

Fucking hell. DJ hadn’t realized that Ephraim had killed the man. Fucking Ephraim.

“Okay, then. I’m going to need to find another doctor.”

“There’s the Yellow Pages,” Kowalski offered with faux helpfulness.

“You know that’s not an option,” DJ growled. “We live off the grid for a reason.”

“Which I’d love to hear more about,” Kowalski practically purred.

“It’s . . . it’s not my story to tell.”

“Bullshit,” the man murmured. “Bull. Shit. But your story can wait. I’m willing to help you with another doctor.”

DJ bit his tongue, because he wanted to tell Kowalski to go to hell. “I think we’ll be okay.”

Because he didn’t actually need to take Pastor to a doctor. He just needed Eden to think that he was. Pastor needed to stay alive long enough to give him the account information. Once he got the passwords, he’d take Pastor’s body back to Eden, lamenting that he hadn’t made it.

“Fine,” Kowalski agreed affably. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

I won’t. “Of course,” he lied.

“Uh, before you hang up, did you take care of that small matter we discussed?”

Mrs. Ellis. “Yes.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you after you’ve gotten your father to a hospital.”

The call ended abruptly and DJ let his head fall forward, suddenly weary. But he didn’t have time to be weary. He had things to do before leaving for Eden.

ROCKLIN, CALIFORNIA