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“No.”

I test his eyes, not really sure what I’m looking for, but I can feel Booker leaning over my shoulder. Before I’m finished, he reaches around me and takes the penlight, clicking it off.

“You’re fine,” he tells Peter. “Your brain has been rattled, but it isn’t liquified yet. Don’t drive, have someone keep an eye on you, et cetera, et cetera, next!”

Peter stands up, and our next person walks in before I’m able to wrap my head around it being over. I’m not convinced that Peter didn’t have a concussion, but Booker is the expert, and I doubt he’d be here with a line out the door if he didn’t know what he was doing.

In fact, as the night wears on, my respect for him grows. He’s definitely not orthodox in the way he does things, and I’m picking up on the way he’s overly interested in talking about people’s pain, but he’s competent and fast, and where my energy drains the longer it goes on and the later it gets, Booker’s only increases.

I’d suspect he’d taken something if I hadn’t been with him all night.

Another person leaves, and the knock that comes this time is heavy. Booker’s smile fades into an expression that has the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Here he is,” he says.

“Here who is?”

“Foley.”

Ah. The guy with the wannabe badass skeleton tattoos who runs the Dale. He’d been the one to offer up a mechanic in exchange for Booker going back to his town with him, and while most of that meeting was a blur, I do remember questioning how seriously the man takes himself.

He walks in, and I’d forgotten how tall he is. He’s a wall of muscle, scars, and bad news. The tattoos hide big, flat lips that are set in a serious line, and his eyes are so pale blue they’re lost in the bright overhead lights.

The square jawline, straight nose, and heavy eyebrows make me think he could be attractive, but something inside me shrinks away from him.

I pause at the impulse, sure it can’t be right. Dangerous men have always been my weakness, and it only takes one look at Foley to know that’s exactly what he is. Instead of the usual curiosity though, I just wish Lynx was here.

“You have a pet,” he says, chilling eyes drifting to me.

“Technically, he’s Lynx’s pet. I just get to play with him sometimes.”

I scowl at Booker. “I’m no one’s pet, thanks.”

Neither of them acknowledges me.

“What have you brought me tonight?” Booker asks.

Foley stops, expression turning calculating … then he turns around and punches the hardwood doorframe with so much force I’m surprised his fist doesn’t go through it.

A pained grunt leaves him, and his teeth are bared when he turns back our way. He’s nursing his hand, breathing heavily, and he holds it out to Booker.

“I won,” he tells us. “But looks like my hand took a hit.”

“Oh dear me, Peril is such a dangerous sport,” Booker coos, patting the bed, like none of us just witnessed Foley doing that to himself. Unlike when Booker cut his own hand open though, Foley looks like he’s in genuine pain.

“It’s like splinters,” Foley grits out. “Tiny little shards burrowing under my skin and making my whole hand hot.” He points to the middle knuckle. “It’s pulsing in time with my heart. You can feel it.”

I’m about to ask if we should get the X-ray machine when Booker steps forward and takes Foley’s hand. He runs his thumb over the middle knuckle, which definitely isn’t sitting right, then presses down hard.

Foley hisses an inhale through his teeth. “Like … an explosion. All the way up my arm.”

Booker turns to me like he’s just remembered I’m here. “We’re done, Sasha. You did very well. So well, in fact, that I won’t be here tomorrow. Make sure you look after my Wenders while I’m gone, little snake, and let’s all hope the mechanic works quickly.”

Foley lets loose a smile that confirms my hunch about him being inhumanly attractive. “You’re coming with me to the Dale?”

“Against all of my best wishes and better judgments, yes.” Booker removes his gloves, ignoring Foley’s mangled hand, and reaches under the bed to pull out a bag. “Grab the car, I’m ready.”

I can only blink at him. “You were planning this the entire time?”