My cheeks heated.“Rude.”
“Accurate,” Marci said.“Coffee’s ready.Food’s almost done.Sit.”
I moved toward the pot, but Kane beat me to it.“Sit,” he echoed.“I got it.”
So I sat at the corner of the big, battered table.The wood bore scars from years of use: knife marks, carved initials, water rings.Someone had burned a little lightning bolt into the edge.It felt solid under my fingers.
Kane slid a mug in front of me, then sat beside me.Our knees touched.He didn’t move his away.Neither did I.
Marci brought plates.Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast.My stomach rumbled loudly at the sight.
“Eat,” she said.“You burned through a lot yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”I asked.“You mean the field trip where a man from a cartel tailed us and offered a trade for my life?”
She winced.“Hearing you say ‘cartel’ and ‘trade for my life’ makes breakfast seem pretty weak.Eat anyway.I’ve got extra cookies coming later.”
I shoveled a bite of eggs into my mouth, then another.My fork moved almost without my control, scraping the plate as though I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days.Well, maybe I hadn’t.
“Spade hiding in his cave?”Kane asked.
Solena didn’t look up from her receipts.“The clubhouse office.He wanted Jade the minute she woke up.I told him humans need sleep.”
“Sorry,” I said automatically.
“Stop apologizing for basic needs,” she said.“You’re making me tired.”
I drank coffee and tried not to grin.“What does Spade need?”I asked.
“He wants you to look at more of Jason’s notes,” Kane explained.“Something about initials and dates.He said your brother had his own weird shorthand, and he’d rather not misinterpret.”
I wiped my mouth and chased the last bite of bacon with coffee.“Okay.I can do that.”
“You sure?”Kane asked.
“If I can help, I want to try.”
He found my thigh under the table, fingers warm, grip gentle.“We’re not judging your worth on how much you can give us. Just so you know.”
“I know.Let me have this anyway.”
His mouth twitched.“Bossy.”
“You like me bossy,” I said.
He didn’t argue.
* * *
I entered Spade’s office and found myself staring at a digital conspiracy board come to life.Three monitors glowed on the desk, each full of spreadsheets, maps, and scanned pages.Colored tabs and sticky notes covered the edge of the screen.A whiteboard on the wall behind him held names and arrows.Some I recognized.Some I did not.
He sat hunched in his chair, hair tied back, dark circles under his eyes.A half-empty energy drink can sat beside the keyboard.Another, crushed, lay on the floor.
“You’re going to rattle apart if you keep drinking those,” I said.
“Results first, heart attacks later,” he replied.“Come in.Sit.Kane, shut the door.”
We did.
