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“After Calder was murdered, some asshole showed up asking about the Mustang. I didn't like it. So I moved the drive somewhere safe.”

“And you let me believe someone stole it?”

“You showed up asking the same questions. Didn't give me a name. Didn't give me a reason. Why the fuck would I trust you?”

“Where did you move it?”

“Doesn't matter.”

“It fucking matters.”

“It was secure.”

“Smoke.”

“I moved it somewhere nobody would find it.” His eyes hold mine.

“And you decided not to tell me.”

“You walked into my garage already knowing who Calder was, when he'd been there, that he'd been murdered, and that somebody was looking for me.”

“I was trying to keep Callie safe.”

“I didn't know that.”

“She vouched for me.”

Smoke looks at Callie, then back at me.

“Callie found you bleeding in an alley, stitched you up after watching a fucking YouTube video, and then started sleeping with you.”

“Hey,” Callie says.

Neither of us looks at her.

Smoke folds his arms. “That wasn't exactly the character reference you think it was.”

I stare at him.

Callie makes a small choking noise.

“You're laughing.”

“No.”

“You're fucking laughing.”

“I can't help it.”

Smoke's mouth twitches.

I turn back to him. “You knew Mercer was looking for it.”

“Eventually. I knew someone was looking for it.”

“And you still didn't tell us.”

“Once I knew somebody was willing to kill for it? Fuck no.”