Ford
"HOUSE MEETING. GET YOUR ASS down here, Brody!"
I've been putting off the house meeting for the past ten minutes while I've been finishing up with an update for West Point, which has now just been broadcasted to all devices in town so there will be mass updates pending for them, including my laptop and phone.
As I shut my laptop down with the delay of the update, I sigh, pushing my chair back from my desk. Jax is only getting angrier with each instruction to meet them all downstairs so I can no longer defer it.
Everyone is already waiting for me when I strut into the lounge. William appears bored while Harris is more mutinous than ever. He heard me come home late last night, and the first time I ran into him this morning after returning from delivering Genevieve's hot chocolate and pink marshmallows—later than usual, per her request—he made it known that he was aware when I got home. I simply shrugged it off at the time, still reeling on the high of the fantasy from the night before and the way Genevieve was perpetually blushing this morning.
I've sold my soul to Genevieve, and there's no going back.
Ignoring Harris' glower he's shooting at me from across the room, I stand next to Clark. Jax and Jeremiah have taken a seat on each of the sofa arms opposite us.
While I'd been delivering the hot chocolate, Genevieve and I agreed to meet at eleven tonight instead of midnight. Right now, it's already ten, and I've been writing the code for the West Point update to waste time because I'm anxious to meet her. There's nothing I want more than a repeat of last night—maybe this time a bed will feature in the fantasy—and so naturally I'm dreading the outcome of this house meeting, because I know it usually ends in some sort of task being allocated to each of us.
"Hurry the fuck on with it, Jax," Harris mutters harshly.
With Jax eyeing Harris irritatingly, they shift quickly to me before returning to Harris. Crossing his arms over his chest, he begins. "Hawk got in contact with Jeremiah and I, but we're all involved in this one. Some guy owes Hawk money and he's not paying up. This is his first warning, so he just needs to be scared shitless, no hospital visits." Jax's eyes bore into mine as if the warning is solely intended for me, which I believe it is. "Hawk's exact words."
"Name?" Clark prompts.
"Nicholas Borough. Same old story as the rest of them. Bought drugs. Got in over his head. Owes too much money to pay back. Hawk's been watching him for some time, though. Saturday night he usually goes out clubbing so he'll be out right now, but Hawk's got his eyes out. As soon as we're all ready, we'll take over, and when he goes back home, we'll strike. He's twenty-seven. Lives alone in the south of Westville." Jax pushes himself off the arm of the sofa. "Get yourselves ready. We'll meet back down here in five."
Alertness spikes inside of me at the mention of an imminent job. There's no fucking way I can do this job and still meet Genevieve on time if this Nicholas prick is out clubbing. No one returns home before midnight on a Saturday night. An unspoken rule, especially in Westville.
"I can't do this tonight," I blurt out. "I've got places I need to be. Things to do."
"More like someone to do," William snickers.
I don't glimpse at Harris, but I can hazard an accurate guess of what his expression currently is. Instead, I fixate my gaze on William as he finds amusement in my desperation to not become embroiled in this job, even though a large part of me is aware my efforts are futile. Part of your membership to Red Alert means always stacking them as priority, but that boundary is beginning to become blurred for me when it concerns Genevieve.
