Montana Falls (Red Diamonds #5)

Chapter Eighteen

G reasy bacon, syrupy pancakes, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the cool, damp air that had followed us inside the hole in the wall café that the internet had claimed to be good enough for my tastebuds. My head throbbed like a bass drum, and my stomach did somersaults that made me question every life choice leading up to that point. Yeah, I was hungover. Big time. But it was worth every ounce of pain I felt because something was different in the air today.

Something was different with my girl because she was… she was relieved, almost. Happier. A weight had been lifted off her pretty shoulders and I would spend the rest of my life feeling as horrific as I felt now, if it had the same outcome for her.

The waitress came by, placing a plate of pancakes in front of me, and I couldn’t help but let out a little groan of appreciation. The smell of butter and syrup hit me like a wave, and my stomach growled in response. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I dug in, the sweetness of the syrup mixing with the soft, fluffy pancakes in a way that made me forget all about my hangover, at least for the moment.

“God, these are good,” I mumbled through a mouthful of food.

There was a murmur of similar agreements from around the table as we all dug into our breakfasts in a silent and hurried manner as the morning light filtered through the large windows of the wall beside us, the gray lifelessness almost enough to make me sad. With each bite, I squinted harder against the brightness of the LEDs on the ceiling, nursing the massive headache that was pulsing behind my eyes. The place was cozy, filled with the soft clatter of dishes and the low hum of chatter, but all I could think about was the pounding in my skull and the dryness in my mouth.

I took a sip of my coffee—strong enough to wake the dead and beautifully rich—and looked around the spotless wooden table. Price sat across from me, his unusually messy hair defying gravity in a way that would make Einstein question his theories.

“You could have done your hair, bro.” I taunted him for a distraction from my headache.

“Kody, I will get off this chair and beat you,” Price growled. “I feel like I’m dead, but I still look hotter than you.”

“You like you lost a fight with a lawnmower,” I shot back, unable to suppress a grin.

“I’ll kill you with a lawnmower, Koko .” He grumbled, as he stole my cousin’s nickname for me.

He and Misha were huddled together, sharing a family sized plate of pancakes like it was the last meal they’d ever have. Misha, ever the picture of grace, was nibbling on a single pancake with a knife and fork, his eyes half-closed as he savored each bite. Whereas Price was busy building a tower out of sugar packets with one hand, his tongue poking out in concentration. His other hand held two rolled up pancakes, slathered in syrup, that he was stuffing into his mouth. He was so easy to pick on. Too easy, really.

“You know, Price,” I began, my voice dripping with faux seriousness, “if this whole gangster gig doesn’t pan out for you in a couple years, you could always join the circus.”

He looked up, one eyebrow raised. “And if this whole… whatever it is you do doesn’t work out, you could always be a clown.” He swallowed his mouthful of food. “Without your sniper, what are you? Just a pretty boy who bakes, and what sort of gang needs a muffin maker?”

“A rifle.” I corrected with a snort. “ I am a sniper. The gun isn’t a sniper. I also cook, not bake. Even if I can bake.” A few more sips of coffee went smoothly down my throat before I opened my mouth to continue my childish fun.

“Enough, children.” Lincoln ordered as he chucked his spoon into the empty bowl of porridge on the table. “It’s too early and wet for you to get into a dick measuring contest – and no, Price. You wouldn’t win, before you say a fucking word.”

The rain splashed against the windows a little lighter than before, but the sky was still very much gray and miserable. It was enough to make me desperate for a bed again.

“How much longer until our plane is ready?” Logan yawned as hard as I wanted to, as he drank his extra large mug of green tea. “I want to nap.”

Sapphire checked her borrowed phone whilst she finished off her double decker sausage, bacon, and egg sandwich. “Should be another twenty minutes or something.”

I looked around the table at the others, all of us slumped in our chairs, barely awake, our hair messy and our eyes half-closed. Logan sat next to me, rubbing his temples like he was trying to push the hangover away through sheer willpower. Misha was staring blankly at his coffee like it held the answers to the universe. Lincoln, ever the morning person like the psychopath he was, was the only one who didn’t look completely miserable, but even he had the faint shadow of exhaustion under his eyes. And then there was Sapphire, sitting at the head of the table with a small smile on her face as she sipped her coffee, looking… lighter. Happier.

Again, it was enough for me to be glad of my hangover.

She caught me looking and raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “What?” she asked, her voice teasing.

I shrugged, grinning despite my pounding headache. “You look suspiciously cheerful for someone who consumed so much tequila.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile grew. “I feel surprisingly good, considering. Maybe I am magic? Or maybe you are all being dramatic.”

“Speak for yourself,” Logan muttered, his head still in his hands. “I’m pretty sure I am dead.”

That earned a round of similar agreements from all of us.

Sapphire’s smile softened, and she looked down at her mug, tracing the rim of the cup with her finger. “You know,” she said quietly. “I think that I feel happier now. There is something different in my heart because of all the… the yesterday stuff.” She lowered her voice more. “I feel like my mama is proud of me and for the first time I thought of her today with her laughing and happiness. Not her screaming and death.”

There was a pause as the weight of her words hung in the air. For so long, she had been carrying this burden, and not just because of all the things John had done to us and the world in general. But for the sheer fact of her mother’s death. And now, for the first time, it seemed like she could… not let it go. But more like feel differently about things because she had got the vengeance she craved, and she had ended the man responsible for the first set of horrors she experienced, at far too young an age.

“I reckon your mom is proud of you, cica .” I muttered, reaching over the table to give her hand a squeeze. “Your dad too. You did what you promised, and you took care of things. They’re definitely smiling down at you even harder now.”

After a silent, thanking smile and a look that told me all I needed to know about my girl’s reaction to my words, the conversation shifted back to the usual banter. The kind that flowed easily between us when we were all too tired to care about much else. Logan teased Misha about his terrible dance moves from the night before, while Misha shot back about Logan’s inability to hold his liquor. Price was busy stealing bites from Sapphire’s plate, and she swatted his hand away playfully, laughing as she did.

The only one not doing the same was Lincoln. He sat nursing his drink and staring out of the window, the slightest of frowns between his brows. And when the bill was asked for, he got to his feet, heading outside to ‘get the car warmed up’.

I followed him and the chilly morning air started biting at our skin the second I stepped outside. I shoved my hands into my pockets, trying to keep warm, but the sharp cold did a good job of waking me up, cutting through the lingering fog of my fuzzy brain.

Lincoln stood next to the car, his arms crossed over his chest, staring off down the street like he was a million miles away. There was something about his posture—tense, shoulders slightly hunched—that caught my attention. I’d known him since we were kids, long enough to recognize when something was off. And right now, something definitely was, and he had no excuse of a hangover.

“Everything alright, bro?” I asked, my voice casual but laced with concern.

He blinked, like he was pulled from a daydream, and looked over at me with a forced smile. “Yeah, fine. Just tired.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You’re acting weird.”

He let out a breath, a cloud of condensation hanging in the air before dissipating. “I’m fine,” he repeated, but there was an edge to his voice.

His gaze drifted away again, like he couldn’t quite meet my eyes, and I stepped closer, lowering my voice.

“Come on, Linc. I can tell something’s up. What’s going on? You’ve been staring out the window all dramatic, like a dog in one of those shelter videos.”

He hesitated for a long moment, his jaw clenching as he stared down the street again. The usual cocky, carefree Lincoln was nowhere to be seen, replaced by someone who seemed… haunted. Wrong. A little messed up somehow.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s stupid,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but I am and I… I dunno. I just needed a second, I guess.”

I frowned, stepping in front of him so he couldn’t avoid the question. “What shouldn’t you be thinking about?”

He let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “It’s just… John. He said something to me before he died. Something fucked up that I didn’t believe, but then as I was thinking about it all night, it made sense. And now I’m panicking far worse, and I’m fucking terrified and stressed and I don’t know how to talk to Saph about it because… because I don’t even know how to say it.”

My chest tightened a little at the mention of John. Even with the bastard dead and gone, his shadow still loomed over us and it was easy to see how freaked Lincoln was by him.

“What did he say?” I asked quietly.

Lincoln paused, his eyes darkening for a split second, before shaking his head again, this time more firmly. “It’s stupid.”

But I could tell by the way he said it, by the look in his eyes, that whatever John had said had definitely gotten under his skin. It wasn’t just a ridiculous lie or bullshit insult to him, no matter how much he tried to brush it off.

I stared at him for a moment, wanting to press further, but the tension in his posture made me stop.

“Alright,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push. But if it’s bothering you, you know you can tell me, right? Whatever it is, we can talk about it. And I can even help you talk to Saph, or just tell her for you if you really don’t want to say it.”

It wasn’t going to be that bad, regardless of his reaction. There was nothing fathomable that John could say or do to make our girl freak out because he was dead now.

He was dead, and he couldn’t do shit.

He was never going to haunt us again.

Lincoln nodded slowly, hands clenching and unclenching. “Okay.” He swallowed hard. “I’m going to tell you exactly what he said, and that’s it. I don’t want to talk about it here – not in earshot of the others, and not until I… until later today. I just need the plane journey to sort my shit out and then… then we can talk to Saph or something.”

“Fine with me, bro. We can do that.” I promised. “Tell me.”

He opened his mouth and said a single sentence that made me freeze. Seven words total. Seven words that made me sick. Seven words that made me confused.

Seven words that ruined the light-hearted happiness I’d been feeling since the bastard O’Malley leader had fallen to his doom.

Before I could say anything other than a slew of curses, the door to the café opened, and the others filed out. They were laughing about something; the sound cutting through the morning quiet. Price had his arm slung over Misha’s shoulder, and Sapphire was shaking her head at them both, amused but clearly still in high spirits. Even Logan was smirking as he nursed the rest of a travel mug of tea, his feelings of death not enough to mess with his mood.

I wished I was still like them.

I wished I didn’t understand why Lincoln had been freaking out.

“Damn, it’s cold.” Misha said, glancing down the street as he pulled his jacket tighter around himself. “You guys okay?”

Lincoln immediately slipped back into his usual easygoing self, giving a nod. “Yeah, all good. Just freezing my ass off whilst the princess takes her time to whip out her debit card.”

Sapphire flashed us both a grin as she playfully poked Linc’s forehead with the tip of her wickedly sharp bloodred nails.

“Did you get hypothermia waiting for me, El Diablo ? You both look just as hot as normal.”

I forced a smile, falling into the usual banter and pretending that everything was fine.

“We’re just about to turn into ice cubes, but other than that, we’re good.”

As we all climbed into the car and settled in, I couldn’t stop thinking about Lincoln’s words. About the look on his face, the way his voice had changed when he mentioned John. I wanted to talk to him. Ask more questions and sit and debate everything under the sun until our voices were sore.

I wanted to prove John as a liar… but I couldn’t. Because just like Lincoln had said. It sounded insane. It was entirely ridiculous.

But it made sense the longer I thought about it. And nothing else I could think of to try and force the point to be wrong worked.

Nothing would work, no matter how hard I tried…

Fuck.