Keep Up

Chapter Eight

When I woke up the next day, I heard whispering coming from the kitchen.
"He's afraid we'll break his precious investment," I heard Dean growl. "As mad as we are, he knows we're gonna try to burn the place down."
"The funny thing is, he did it over text. He couldn't talk to us face to face like a real man. Typical," Roman said.
"So, what are we gonna do tonight?" Dean asked.
"Don't know. Unless you want to spend it in a jail cell," Roman suggested.
"No thanks. Chelsea's gonna knock me into another state. There's already one member of my family in jail," Dean replied.
His precious investment? Burn the place down? Did it over text? Jail cell? What are those two talking about?
I dizzily got to my feet and padded into the kitchen. "What are you guys talking about?" I asked sleepily.
Dean immediately shoved his phone in my face.
Since we don't have you or Roman on our schedule, we are banning you from the U.S. Bank arena; nothing personal. Tell Chelsea to take the night off-Hunter
"See how he added 'nothing personal'?" Dean questioned. "That means it's personal!"
"Well you can't say that you weren't expecting this at least a little. You had to know Hunter was going to do something like this," I told him.
"Still," Dean said through clenched teeth, slamming his phone facedown on the kitchen countertop. "What do we do now?"
Roman shrugged as he leaned against the edge of the breakfast table. "There's nothing for us to do."
Dean groaned. "I hate the fact of just sitting here and not doing anything," he mumbled.
I rubbed his back comfortingly. His eyes lit up. "Hey, how about you go to the arena tonight and do what Roman and I were planning," Dean suggested. "You're aren't technically banned."
"Yeah, that's not happening," I replied making Dean's shoulders slump. "Will you guys just calm down? There's nothing you can do today. You'll probably get your opportunity Monday or next Friday, but for right now, just relax. You guys haven't had a show night off in, like, ever."
Roman shrugged, taking what I said into consideration. "She's right," he agreed. "We need to do something fun."
"But what, though?" Dean asked. "What I'm about to suggest Chelsea will shoot down."
"He's right," I told Roman.
Roman shrugged. "I guess we should head to Minneapolis. At least we'll get a head start."
Just as we all agreed, Dean's phone vibrated. After he read the message, he looked around the room.
"What?" I questioned.
"Hunter just said to stay in the city," Dean explained. "I think he's stalking us."
"Either that or he knows how you guys think," I said, shrugging. "Guess we're staying here."
"No," Dean said. "We're not. He's not gonna tell us what to do."
"Dean, he's still your boss. He can fire you," I pointed out.
Dean shrugged. "It's not like he'll die. Come on." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the bedroom.

We didn't get on the road until an hour later. Dean wanted to drive instead of catch a flight so that the journey there was drawn out.
"I'll drive," Roman had offered when he saw the keys in Dean's hand shaking as he tried to unlock the doors.
"No, I'm gonna drive," Dean said.
It took Roman a good five minutes to wrestle the keys out of his friend's hands and once he did, Dean threw himself into the backseat.

We stopped at a convenience store in Milwaukee-a city resting just past the border that Chicago and Wisconsin shared.
"I'll go in," I volunteered. "What do you guys want?"
"Just get a whole bunch of candy," Dean grumbled, handing over a $50 bill.
"The last thing you need is sugar in your system," Roman told him.
"I'll get you one candy bar," I said, putting up a finger to emphasize the word.
Dean huffed. "Fine."
I hopped out of the car and headed inside. I nodded a greet to the store clerk before walking down the candy aisle. I grabbed a king size Kit-Kat for me and rummaged around for Dean's promised treat. When I stood up from bending down to look at the bottom row, I felt someone staring at me. I looked up and saw a man in the next aisle. Even though his hood was up and was covering his face, I knew he was gazing at me. I averted my eyes from side to side, extremely uncomfortable. He looked like he could rob the store in a moment's notice. I smiled weakly at him and raised my hand, but forgot to wave. I quickly dropped it to my side and went back to searching.
"We need to talk."
"Jesus!" I screamed, jumping back. The man was in my aisle, standing way to close to me. The clerk peeked over the top of his sports magazine with a raised eyebrow. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Who are you?" I asked quietly.
"Daniella is not helping you guys," is all he said.
Once realization dawned on me, I closed my eyes and sighed. You weren't supposed to tell him, Mrs. Good.
"Leave me alone," I snapped, blindly grabbing a Snickers and a Hershey's Bar before making my way to the chip aisle. "I have nothing to say to you."
I grabbed a huge bag of barbecue chips, three bottles of tea, and slammed all the contents on the counter for the clerk to ring up. He kept glancing up at Mr. Good as he scanned my items.
"You thought you were really clever," he chuckled darkly. "Thinking you could get my own wife to turn on me."
"Yeah, because you-"
"Can we finish this outside?" he interrupted as the clerk placed my items in a plastic bag. His ears were twitching.
I politely thanked him and grabbed the bag, stalking outside. Dean had pushed himself in between the two front seats to talk to Roman. Mr. Good saw them too.
"Let's make this conversation quick," he said.
"No need," I told him. "It's done."
He snatched me up by my arm. I instantly thought of Dean and how he did the exact same thing when I tried to walk away from the argument pertaining to Seth. Even the way they wrapped their fingers around my slim arm were exactly the same.
"Let me go," I growled.
"Make me," he stated smugly.
Without warning I punched him as hard as I could in the face. Blood immediately trickled from his nose as he released his grip on me and fell to the ground. I scrambled to get back to the car, swinging the door open.
"What's wrong with you?" Dean questioned.
I looked back at the store entrance and saw that Mr. Good was gone. I shivered. "Nothing," I mumbled.

About two hours later, the car was running dangerously low on gas. Roman saw a station just up ahead and swung the car into a slot.
"Be right back," Roman muttered, slamming the driver door behind him.
Dean pushed his face in between the seats and stared at me.
"What?" I asked.
"What's wrong?" he questioned. "You've been really quiet these past couple of hours. Wanna talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about," I stated simply.
He narrowed his eyes at me. "You're lying," he said. "Tell me what's going on."
"Why?" I whined.
I knew my stalling tactic was going to run out soon, but I was trying to draw it out as long as possible. I just didn't have the heart to tell Dean about my encounter with Mr. Good. He was already in a sour mood. Now that Mr. Good knows our plans, does that mean Mrs. Good wasn't going to help get her son out of jail? Her testimony was going to be a very critical component in the trial.
"Babe?" Dean whispered, kissing the part where my neck and shoulder met. "Whatcha thinking about?"
I sighed. "I saw Mr. Good at the convenience store back in Milwaukee," I admitted.
He stopped kissing me. "And you were gonna tell me this....when?"
"When I died," I squeaked, chewing on my thumbnail a little, but I quickly snatched it from my mouth. "He knows what we were trying to do with Mrs. Good. She told him."
Dean swore under his breath, shaking his head. "I knew she'd crack."
"Dean, what do we do know?" I asked him. "We need her to testify against Mr. Good. Without her there's a good chance that Jackson won't be released from jail."
"Don't worry about that," he said, tucking some hair behind my ear.
"How can I not?" I questioned. "This is my friend we're talking about here. Mrs. Good testimony is Jackson's ticket to freedom. Without that......" I trailed off.
"I said not to worry about it, okay? I have it under control," Dean assured.
I gazed at him curiously. "How?"
"Don't worry about it," he told me. "Just relax and leave it to me."
I was still wary despite Dean's confidence of the situation. How could he be so sure? What was up his sleeve?