Then her nostrils flare, and her eyes narrow until they’re two furious slits. “This is what we’re doing now?” She slams her hands on her hips. “We’re working for the Unholy?”
“Good Lord, Kerri, no.” I punctate my protest with a vigorous shake of my head. “But I live there, too. Keeping it drug-free is kinda important since I intend to raise my kids there.”
“So why does it have to be you?” she demands. “Let them ask around.”
Of course, she’d ask what might seem like a logical question. “It would bring too much attention if they came here and poked around. That’s why Crow tapped me to make a few discreet inquiries, but only if it wouldn’t put me in danger.”
“Aw, how sweet of him.” Points to Kerri for her sarcasm.
“If having me ask a question or two will help keep onyx out of Mayhem, then count me in, because I don’t want that shit infecting my home.”
“No, but you don’t care if there is deviant sex and criminality,” she snaps.
I match her glare with a scowl. “If the sex is between consenting adults in an environment controlled by criminals who will literally break the jaw of any man who dares disrespect a woman while in their town, yep, I’m all for it. Can you say the same about any of these dickheads here? Because I can’t.” I raise my hand and hold up my fingers. “Do you want me to tick off the times we heard rumors of girls who’ve been date-raped? Or, as I like to call it, just plain raped. Or how about the people your father defends? The liars and cheaters who get away with their crimes because they can afford the very best of lawyers.”
Kerri purses her lips and stares me down for a good thirty seconds before huffing out a resigned sigh. She relaxes and drops her arms. “Fine. You’re right. I’m sorry. Today has been a shitshow.And,” she draws out the word, “I don’t like the idea of those people involving you in their business.”
“It’s Mayhem business, and that makes it my business, too.” I wrap my arms around her tiny waist and give her a tight hug. “Can I run in real quick and talk to Nate?”
And maybe pee after the long drive?
“About onyx?” She shoves me away with a roll of her eyes. “Faith, my love, are you even using that awesome brain in your pretty head? You have met my brother and his friends, right?”
The sarcasm in her tone is what gets me.
Because she’s right.
Instantly defeated, I cringe. “Good point.” Nate and his little band of seventeen-year-old trust fund kids are collectively more the weed and munchies crowd rather than the designer drug types. “This puts me back to square one.”
“No.” She links her arm with mine and marches me toward her car. “Connor is at Roadies.”
My feet almost falter, but I keep moving forward. “Mike isn’t there, is he?”
Mike, as in Michael Davenport.
Daniel Davenport’s son.
“Oh my God, that’s right,” Kerri says with a gasp. “With the nonsense going on between my father and Marcus, I forgot to tell you.”
I get a weird, tingly sensation in my fingers, followed by numbness. A pit opens in my stomach as a million scenarios race through my mind—each centered on Daniel painting a horrible picture of what happened between us. In none of them am I the victim. In all of them, he’s the ethical businessman who resisted the seduction of his slutty employee.
But isn’t this something Kerri would call me about immediately if rumors were spreading? Which they aren’t, because I’m being paranoid. Daniel would never talk. If he did, sure, he would paint me in a bad light, but there would always be some people who might still question his behavior. God forbid he come out of it with even a speck of dirt tarnishing his sterling reputation.
And that’s why I relax as the blood rushes back to my starved limbs. “Tell me what?”
“So, get this—and please don’t get all…you…on me. The night we went to Talon? Your first night in Mayhem? Annabelle was there with Connor, Mike, and Samantha.”
“Okay, fine,” I say with a shrug. “Good for them.”
I seriously don’t want to think about that night—for obvious reasons. Also, I may have worked for Mike’s father, but I wasn’t close with the guy. Or with Annabelle or Connor. They are members of our extended social circle rather than our intimate friend group.
“Well,” she continues, “they had a run-in with a certain Unholy who broke Mike’s jaw.”
I slide my eyes closed and take a deep breath because I can predict where this is going. There’s only one person I know with a penchant for busting that particular body part.
“Let me guess. Jester.”
“Bingo.” She jabs her index finger at me. “He’s the one.”
