My jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I saw the way you looked at her that night. The way you carried her out of that tunnel.” His smirk was small, sharp. “You forget how long I’ve known you?”
“I was savin’ her ass,” I said, heat creepin’ into my voice. “Didn’t know there was a right or wrong way to do that now.”
Devil let out a low, rough laugh, the kind I hadn’t heard enough from him in years. “This is gonna be good. Payback for all the times you gave me and Mystic hell.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, though it didn’t sound near as certain as I wanted. “I don’t do relationships. Never have. No woman’s ever stuck in my head long enough to make me want to.”
His gaze drifted back to Raina’s picture. “It’s not something you’ll see coming,” he said quietly. “It just hits you—clean through. Leaves nothing but smoke.”
I studied him a moment, feelin’ that old ache settle behind my ribs. He still kept that old house exactly the way she left it. Five years gone, and he was still livin’ in the wreckage.
“Christ,” I muttered, pushin’ off the wall. “We gettin’ sentimental now? You goin’ soft on me, brother?”
His eyes snapped sharp again, business takin’ back over. “Fine. Gatsby said when the feds hit Gabriel’s mansion, they came up empty. Someone tipped him off.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” I said. “Half those agents’ll roll for the right money. You think it ties back to us?”
He shook his head. “Kickstand and Jaycee cleaned our end. But my gut says something’s off.”
“Then we put eyes on it,” I said. “Your gut’s saved our asses before.”
He nodded. “We’ll cover it at the next meet.”
I pushed off the desk. “Then I’m grabbin’ a drink and takin’ Spinner’s money at poker.”
I’d just reached the handle when it swung open. Tillie stood there, coffee mug in hand, eyes wide like she’d stepped into somethin’ she wasn’t meant to see.
“What?” Devil snapped.
“Josie sent me with your coffee,” she said quietly.
He sighed, took the cup with a curt nod, and didn’t speak again until her boots faded down the hall.
“Josie knows better,” he muttered.
“Maybe she’s tryin’ to help you stop bein’ a monk,” I said before thinkin’.
His eyes cut to me—reddish and dangerous. “That’ll be a cold day in hell, and you damn well know it.”
“Yeah,” I said, rubbin’ a hand over my jaw. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
He didn’t answer. Just stared at that picture again, like the ghost inside it was louder than anything in the room.
“You sure you don’t wanna come play a hand?”
He shook his head. “Gonna check the house. Been a few weeks.”
I hesitated. “You want company?”
“No.”
Didn’t expect any other answer.
I clapped him on the shoulder. “See you later, brother.”
The door shut behind me as I headed down the hall. The silence he left behind followed like a ghost, and damn if I wasn’t startin’ to understand what it meant to be haunted by someone you couldn’t forget.
