Jean Paul gruffs out a laugh and shoves his ticket closer. “You planning to apply, PYT? We work upstairs. It doesn’t matter.”
He says it like that should comfort me.
How long has that door been there while I walked this floor pretending I was learning themap?
How many times has the answer I need been a wall panel away?
Deacon’s there. I know it. Dollars to donuts he’s one of their ‘high rollers,’ and they’re protecting him.
That’s why they won’t tell me anything. Awareness and anger thrums under my skin, settling alongside the ever-present frustration at my predicament.
I ring in his order and force my hands steady. “How long has it been running?”
Jean Paul’s expression shutters. “Long enough.”
Justine smirks, sensing blood in the water. “Long enough for you to stop asking questions if you like your job.”
And there it is. The warning. Any time I start asking questions, I’m reminded not-so-politely to shut my trap.
It’s fine. I actually learned something today. I file the information away.
Ever returns a minute later with his arms full of restock, expression already set in that blank, unreadable way I’m starting to hate because it means he’s decided to be cagey.
I wait until he sets down the bottles and starts sliding them beneath the bar.
Then I move in close enough he has to acknowledge me.
“So. I saw the elusive Nash. What’s downstairs?”
He doesn’t look up. “Not for you.”
I clamp down on my jaw. “That wasn’t my question.”
Now he glances at me, once, all flinty-eyed irritation. “Ask any question you want; that’s the only answer you’re getting.”
I should back off. I know I should back off. I know enough to know what I need to do now. I should know better than to overplay my hand.
I also know I spent last night shaking in the dark while these men keep folding me deeper into a place I still don’t understand, and I’m done pretending that doesn’t matter.
Still. I kinda like poking Ever the Bear.
I lower my voice. “Is that whereheworks?”
A muscle jumps in Ever’s jaw. Good.
Shiloh reappears at the far end of the bar and catches the look between us. Whatever passes over his face is gone before anyone else would notice it. I notice, though.
Always.
“So Nash is the boss,” I say, because no one else is going to say it plainly. “Your boss.”
Ever’s mouth flattens. “In some ways.”
In some ways. Nottheboss. Maybe notonlythe boss.
Tasks abandoned, I trail after him when he heads down the hall with another crate. He knows I’m behind him.He doesn’t speed up. Doesn’t issue me an invitation, either.
Shiloh starts after us, but somebody on the floor calls his name over the crowd, and he pauses long enough to answer. I catch him lift a hand in acknowledgment before the hallway swallows me and Ever whole.
