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“I pushed fine.”
“You always think that.”
“He’s called Razor.”
Nevermore stills. “Razor Maddox?”
I do not like that he knows the name. “You know him?”
“Ravenfork enforcer when they trust him enough to point him. Mean little fucker. Likes knives. Likes cameras. Likes women scared and quiet.”
My vision narrows. Not much. Enough.
Nevermore sees it, and for once he doesn’t needle me. “You saw proof?”
“Photo in her car. His arm around her. Her smile not reaching her eyes.”
“Old photo?”
“Looks like it.”
“Something she kept?”
“Maybe.” I glance toward the school. “Or something somebody left where I’d find it.”
That gets his full attention.
“Razor?”
“Would fit the rest of his little performance.”
Nevermore’s jaw tightens. “Hyde needs to know.”
“Yeah.”
“And Bitter?”
“What?”
“If this is about Ravenfork, it’s club business. If this is about you not liking that another man put his hands on her, that’s something else.”
I smile slow and mean. “Careful saying soft things to me, brother. Folks might think you got feelings.”
He doesn’t smile back. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
We stare at each other in the hall, two brothers with too much history and not enough room for it. He knows me better than I want. Knows when I’m about to throw a punch, when I’m about to laugh, and when I’m about to bleed and call it anger.
He also knows I haven’t looked at a woman this long since Lena.
That don’t mean a damn thing. It can’t.
The school doors open down the hall. Sweet steps out before Mercy can catch her, because apparently that girl’s survival instincts are decorative. She has her bag over one shoulder now, a fresh black apron folded over her arm, and that brave smile fixed back on her face. She spots me with Nevermore, hesitates, then lifts her chin and walks toward us.
Not away. Toward. My body reacts like she just stepped into traffic.
“What is wrong with her?” I mutter.
