They were all more than I anticipated, more than I gave them credit for.
Rafe shifted in his chair and pointed his spoon in my direction. “You’re the reporter.”
The reminder shot through me like lightning. “So?”
“So.” He flashed a dangerous smile. “Figure it out.”
I huffed but resisted the urge to pout and cross my arms. “I don’t get it. Not any of it. You could clear things up easily enough, but you choose not to. It would go a long way with the townspeople and local law enforcement if people realized all the nice things you do around town.”
They helped the old and infirm, for Christ’s sake! Bishop carved wooden toys for kids like some kind of biker Santa.
“The people who need to know, do.” Rafe spooned up another bite and ate it, his brows drawn together in a harsh V.
I’d come to expect this attitude from him, but Bishop and Ash’s continued silence bothered me.
Did they agree with Rafe or did their opinions not matter to him?
The fire popped behind us, the sound muted over the constant scrape of cutlery on ceramic.
I ran my finger along a scratch in the tabletop.
A dark spot covered an area the size of my hand, and I wondered briefly if it was a bloodstain.
Deciding not to follow that line of thought, I hauled myself back to my current line of questioning. “If people stopped blaming you for all the bad things that happened in town, like the blackout, then you’d have a chance to help even more people.”
My attempt to appeal to his pride and his devotion to helping others fell on deaf ears.
Rafe stopped eating and stared me down.
His eyes turned cold, much like they’d been when he confronted the townspeople. “How do you know we didn’t cause the blackout?”
He motioned at the space around us.
The large kitchen housing the industrial gas stove and refrigerator running off a generator, Colt had showed me, gave off a low hum.
The candles and lamps I’d lit caused flickers of light to dance over the dark walls and created what I’d hoped would be a cozy atmosphere.
A chill skittered down my spine and swept across my fingertips, forcing me to clench them around the spoon before I dropped it in my bowl.
My brain scrambled for an answer to his question. “You can’t be. I was with you. The power was on when we left.”
I stopped as my rational, detective mind overruled my chaotic, emotional one.
Rafe had other people in the Steel Vipers.
The three of them were not the only men who needed watching. “Did you?” My question came out as a whisper.
They all heard me.
The kitchen was deathly silent except for the occasional rasp of fire eating through another log and the following crack and tumble of wood falling from Ash’s carefully constructed pyramid.
I locked eyes with Rafe, willing him to give me a straight answer. “I’m the reporter. You said so yourself. I can’t figure anything out if people keep lying to me.”
The implication that they lied to me landed hard enough to cause Ash to raise his eyebrows.
He picked up his glass and took a long drink of whatever Colt had poured into it.
I had ice water, but I doubted any of them were drinking anything lighter than vodka.
