A very bad sign.
I walked to the fridge. I needed a fucking beer after that kiss.
“Are you going to tell Bram about Travis Dorsey and the Russian? Jagger asked.
“No way,” Cassie said. “It’s going to be bad enough telling him about the Hunt. Besides, I don’t know anything yet. I want to look through my parents’ papers again.”
“Just don’t go doing anything without talking to us,” Jagger said. “The guy who hired Dorsey obviously meant business.”
“Yeah we don’t want you poking the bear,” Vigo said. “Unless we’re there to deal with the bear. Got it, mouse?”
I tried to ignore the cold sweep of dread over my body. When that didn’t work, I told myself it was because of Bram. Because dealing with Bram was going to be a shit show no matter how we cut it.
But I knew it was a lie.
It was about Cassie. About the fact that I would be dreaming about that kiss — that simple fucking kiss — in the kitchen for the next three days.
About the fact that I already didn’t want to let her go.
35
CASSIE
I feltsick as Vigo parked down the street from Bram’s loft. We’d argued about whether I would drive myself: I reasoned it would be less upsetting to Bram if I arrived and left in my own car and the Hawks had said they didn’t give two fucks what was less upsetting to Bram.
In the end we’ compromised: we’d go together but park down the street to give me time to break the news.
I forced myself to take deep breaths. I’d left Kaylee in charge of the shop for the day. All I had to do was get through the next couple of hours. Then I could go back to the Hawks house and sleep, which I desperately needed to do after the night I’d spent tossing and turning, playing out every possible scenario for my confrontation with Bram.
“Wait here,” I said when we got out of the car. “I mean it. If they see you lurking outside before I get the chance to tell Bram it’s going to make things harder.”
Bram, Poe, and Remy weren’t exactly friends with the Hawks. They would wonder what the Hawks were doing loitering outside the loft and I’d be forced to accelerate the carefully rehearsed explanation of my new living arrangements.
“No problem, mouse.” Vigo kissed me on the lips. “We’ll wait for your text.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him he wouldn’t need a text. Bram would rage as soon as he found out they were outside.
I’d taken two steps in the direction of the loft when I turned around.
“I don’t like that you call me that,” I told Vigo.
He furrowed his brow and I tried not to be distracted by his adorable freckles. “What?”
“Mouse.”
“Why?” Vigo asked.
“Mice are small. Insignificant.”
Jagger scratched his jaw. “Mice are smart. Crafty.”
“Yeah,” Vigo said. “Mice find a way to survive when everything else dies.”
It wasn’t what I’d expected them to say. And honestly, I’d never thought of it that way.
I turned around and kept going toward the brick building at the end of the street where Bram lived with Poe, Remy, and Maeve. Now wasn’t the time to argue about nicknames.
I resisted the urge to bend over and heave as I came closer to the loft. There was nothing in my stomach anyway. I’d been too nervous to eat breakfast.
