Pix isn’t one to tuck tail and run; she lives for addressing everything head-on—usually with one of her knives, mainly her favorite ice-pick one. Her name, Pix, is both for the pixie likeness she has and her love of that particular knife.
Digits threads his fingers through his curly hair, mussing it up even more. Then he looks at me, and I can see his tortured brown eyes behind his glasses.
Suddenly, it clicks, and I feel like a piece of shit. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own world that I haven’t given any thought to anyone else.
“Is Pix okay?”
Recently, Bane’s old lady, Slade, had come under threat, and Pix had been directly involved in exposing and eliminating it. To do that, she’d had to put herself in the hands of a psychopath.
It was all part of a larger plot to expose the villain in a very public way and take him down, along with the other heinous motherfuckers involved. Pix hadn’t hesitated, though; she’d said yes immediately, determined to protect Slade and bring down the bad guys. But that didn’t make her infallible.
Digits heaves out a breath. “She’s fine in that regard. I’ve been watching her closely.”
He avoids my eyes as he openly admits he’s been watching her over the security feeds.
So, I’m not the only one spying on the woman I love.Dually noted.
“She’s fine and not triggered,” he adds.
“But?”
His eyes swing to me with anger. “It’s fucking Raffaello Romani,” he grits through clenched teeth.
Ah, yes. Things are coming into focus now.
Raffaello Romani—or Raf—is Vito Santoro’s right-hand man. And he’s expressed interest in Pix. Which, understandably, haspushed Digits into the jealous, possessive territory that I can understand and appreciate.
“And you—”
“I’m not talking about this,” he cuts me off with a snarl.
“Digits… It’s me.”
He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you, anyway. About some of my missing tech. Particularly the Aurix Nodes.”
The bugs I “borrowed” from his stash of top-tier tech that allow for audio and visual surveillance.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie nonchalantly, making him snort.
“Bullshit. Leeva returns out of the blue, my tech goes missing, and you think I wouldn’t put two and two together.”
“You mean Kathryn Wentzell, who looks like Leeva—”
“Where is she?” He’s not buying my diversion bullshit.
My hackles raise. “Why?”
He shoves his hand through his hair again, looking frustrated but concerned. “Because, brother, I’m trying to save your ass. To stop you from getting yourself killed.”
“She doesn’t have Guerilla’s tattoo,” I admit. “It’s not hidden or covered. It’s completely gone.” I still can’t understand how, but it’s the truth.
His brow furrows deeply. “Then Kathryn Wentzell isn’t Leeva, Army.”
“You ran the facial analysis.” I know he would’ve, to confirm, just like Len had her tech expert do. “You know it’s Leeva, Digits.”
Concern and denial still cover his face. “Even if she doesn’t have the tattoo, if there’s scarring, that’s enough of a case for Guerilla to make against you that his mark and claim on her still exists. And if any of the MC members feel the same way—like the asshole old guard, who is going to be looking foranythingto hitat you right now—then the case would build against you. Razor would gladly make you face the same punishment Grinder did…the punishmentyoudelivered, Army.”
“There’snothing,” I stress. “No discoloration, no scarring, not even a change in the skin texture.”
