“Yes.”I rubbed at my eyes carefully.“But I’m also frustrated, which is apparently stronger than tired.”
“Figured.”
I opened my eyes and found him closer than he’d been a second ago.
Not too close, but closer.
He stood beside the bed, looking down at the closed laptop like it had personally offended him.
“You think he’s someone who worked here?”I asked.
Push’s jaw shifted.“Could be.”
“Could be isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
I sighed and leaned back against the headboard.“I hate that.”
“Yeah, welcome to the club.”
I studied him for a moment.
He looked tired too.Not in an obvious way.Push didn’t seem like the kind of man who would ever announce he was exhausted.He’d probably get stabbed and call it inconvenient.But there was tension around his eyes and something heavy in the way he stood.
The murders weren’t just a case to him.
They were his home.
His brothers.
His people.
I understood that better now than I had when I woke up underground convinced I’d been dragged into a biker murder dungeon.Which, in my defense, had not been a completely unreasonable assumption.
“Can I ask you something?”I said.
His eyes came back to mine.“You’re gonna anyway.”
“True.Glad we’re learning each other.”
He didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth did that almost-smile thing again.
I pulled my knees up slowly and wrapped my arms around them, careful not to move fast enough to anger the tiny construction crew with jackhammers working in my skull.“The bodies,” I said.
Push’s expression changed instantly.Not much, but enough.The almost-smile disappeared.“What about them?”
“Do you know who they all are?”
He leaned one hip against the edge of the dresser.“Some.Not all.”
“Were any of them women?”
His gaze held mine for a second.
“The one we just found was.”
My breath caught, even though I already knew it wasn’t Erin.I’d seen enough of that body last night to know it wasn’t my sister, but hearing it still made my chest go tight in a way I hated.
