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“You can be smug about being right later.”
“I'm not smug.”
“Your face is smug.”
“My face doesn't do smug.”
“Your face barely does human emotion, but I've learned to translate.”
“Do you think Smoke's in danger?”
Roman doesn't answer quickly enough.
“Roman.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus.” I lift Alibi onto my lap and hold him closer. “You can’t just expect me to sit here and do nothing—”
Roman already has his phone out. “Let me handle this, Chaos.”
He presses his phone against his ear.
“I’ve got an update.” Roman’s eyes lock with mine. “Smoke is Callie's cousin.”
More silence passes before Roman says, “What?” Then he snarls, “Asshole,” and hangs up.
“Who was that?”
“My boss.”
“Why did you call him an asshole?”
“Because he is one.”
I stare at him.
“Fine. He asked, ‘How the fuck do you keep doing this?’ So I called him an asshole.”
I bite my lip, barely suppressing a laugh. I want to meet Roman’s boss.
Focus.
“What happens now?”
“We find out what Smoke has.”
“And Mercer?”
Roman's expression changes. It's subtle. Barely anything. But I've learned him enough to recognize it.
“I handle Mercer.”
A chill moves over my skin.
Because for the first time since I met Roman, I understand exactly what handle means.
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