Nice.

And he kept going. “She’s a dead bitch walking. You know that, Jax. Good thing she gave—”

“That’s enough,” he cut in harshly while my stomach ended up somewhere on the gross as hell floor. “Do you have any idea of where she is? Or Rooster?”

“Rooster?” Ritchey laughed again. “Man, he’s holed up wherever Mona is, or if he’s smart, he’s gotten far away from where she is. Man, Jax, you know how Mona was. She’d get high, get to talking and acting like she was big shit because she was running mule for Isaiah and the shit got out. Mona ain’t smart. She should’ve handed over that dope instead of sitting on it.”

“Why didn’t she?” I asked, and I could feel Jax’s eyes on me. “Did you hear anything about that?”

He nodded. “Stupid-ass Rooster was talking about trying to run some game over Isaiah. Instead of taking the cut they got for going and picking the dope up, he wanted more before they handed it over. So they were sitting on it. And that put the asshole Mack in a bad position, because he was supposed to get that shit from them and hand it over. ’Cuz you know, Isaiah, he don’t want to get his hands dirty.”

Oh God, that was just worse in five hundred different ways. I didn’t know what to say.

“And knowing Mona and Rooster, they probably got themselves a bit of it, got messed up, and then freaked, knowing they’ve pissed off Isaiah. Shit ain’t looking good for them.” He paused, spreading his arms. “And now, here we are, and all that shit rolls downhill, right through Mack, Rooster, and Mona.”

A muscle thrummed along Jax’s jaw. “Damn.”

“Yep. You know who might have a clue to where they are?” Ritchey tilted his head to the side. Jax’s chin went up a notch. “You know Ike?”

“Met him a time or two.”

Ritchey nodded. “Track him down—he’s been living north of Plymouth, in the camp called Happy Trails. Can’t miss him. Got one of those souped-up trucks.” He glanced over at me again. “We’ve met, haven’t we? Man, ’cuz you look familiar. I can’t put it. Wait . . .” His pale eyes widened. “Holy shit, it’s true.”

“Ritchey,” warned Jax in a low voice as he reached into his pocket. “Don’t piss me off.”

“Whoa, man, I’m not trying. I like you. Always have, being we both have seen battle.” He raised his hands, and I saw it then, the vicious red track marks on his arms. “But you got to know, there’s more word on the street, talking about how Mona’s daughter is here. I just didn’t believe it. You better hope Isaiah doesn’t catch wind of that shit.”

Well, a little late on hoping for that.

“Stop looking at her,” Jax ordered, and Ritchey stopped looking at me as Jax pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and dropped it on the counter. “Use that to get your boy some food. If I even fucking catch wind of you spending it on dope, I’m going to revisit and it isn’t going to be pretty.”