“I should—” she started, clutching her keys.
“No,” I said, sharper than I meant. “Stay. This won’t take long.” I gestured at the table, and she hesitated, then shrugged off her jacket and sank into a chair, arms folded tight.
Nitro and Augustine slid into the kitchen, moving in sync like they’d practiced. Both sat, neither spoke. Nitro helped himself to the coffee, using my mug without asking. Augustine scanned the papers on the table, eyebrow ticking up at the draft obituary.
“Is that the program?” he asked, voice unexpectedly soft.
“Yeah,” I said. “Emily helped.”
Nitro grunted, barely looking up. “That the girl from the shelter?”
I nodded. “She’s all right.”
Emily stiffened, but didn’t break eye contact. “You want some coffee?” she said, the words as much a challenge as an offer.
Augustine barked a laugh. “Why not?” She poured for him, hands steady, then slid the mug across with a precision that said she didn’t care if it went over the edge. He caught it, nodded his thanks, and took a sip.
Augustine still eyed Emily, as if memorizing her for a later test. “You from here?” he asked.
“Las Cruces,” she answered, flat and unblinking.
Sergeant padded over, sniffed at Nitro’s boots, then flopped down between the two men, eyes alert but not worried.
“Good dog,” Nitro said, not looking away from the wall of condolence cards. “My sister had one just like her. Mean as hell to strangers.”
“She’s nice if you don’t startle her,” Emily said. “Or if you have food.”
They nodded, an unspoken club agreement that dogs were better than most people.
The silence stretched. I rolled the dog tags in my hand, feeling the click of chain against bone. I watched the three of them—Emily with her jaw set, Nitro with his mug balanced in a fist, Augustine reading everything in the room but the newsprint in front of him.
Finally, Nitro set his mug down with a thunk. “We won’t take much of your time. We came to see if you needed anything. Flowers, a ride, security detail for the burial. Damron wants the club to show full colors, but it’s your call.”
I looked at Emily, who gave the slightest nod. I wasn’t sure if it was for the flowers or the muscle, but either way, I felt the heat in my face, not sure how to say what I wanted in front of her.
“Full colors is fine,” I said. “Ma would’ve hated it, but she’d want people to know she mattered.”
Nitro smiled, just the edge of it, a scar twisting the corner of his mouth. “You got it.”
Augustine stood, stretching like a cat. “You want us to take care of the press, too? We can keep them back.”
“Just don’t let them piss on her name,” I said.
Augustine’s gaze flicked to Emily, then back to me. “You sure she’s good?”
I bristled, but before I could answer, Emily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, exposing the paw print tattoo just under the lobe.
“I’m not a threat,” she said, steady and clear. “Just here to make sure he eats.”
Augustine nodded, satisfied.
Nitro finished the coffee, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and rose. “We’ll see you Friday, then. Don’t worry about anything.”
They left as quick as they’d come.
Emily let out a long breath and sank back in the chair, arms loose now. Sergeant wandered over and set her head in Emily’s lap, content.
“Sorry,” I said, the word foreign and awkward.
