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Rather than start the engine, he adjusted his position until he faced her. “How you doing, kid?”
“Great.” Confused. Why were they just sitting there? “Fine.”
“I don’t think so.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t think so?”
She laughed, but he wasn’t amused at all. Is that what it was? An intervention?
“You’re letting all this shit pile on, Scamp. No one can handle the pressure forever.”
“What pressure? There’s no pressure. Steeple isn’t asking for secrets or expecting me to work. He’s called every day, just checking in, not to bully me.”
“I’d like to see the guy who’d try that these days.” Strat held a stern air that wasn’t only concern. “You’ll go off the rails, Scamp.” This time, instead of a straight laugh, she curled her lips around her teeth trying to hold it back. “I don’t wanna see that.”
Leaning over, she patted his hand. “Don’t worry, old man. I’ll try not to get any on you.”
“The fact you’re making this a joke proves my point. Your granddaddy was murdered four nights ago.”
“I am aware, thanks.” Folding her arms, this was getting less entertaining by the second. “You think I didn’t notice the crime scene photos and witness reports swirling around, under the radar, in my own apartment?” A moment, tense and uncertain, clouded the air for a score of seconds. “What is going on, Strat?”
“It started with him,” he said. “Since him you’re… You won’t even talk about him.”
“Why should I?” The last thing she’d do was insult Strat’s intelligence by playing dumb. “What is there to talk about? It’s done. Over.”
“Is it? ‘Bout two months ago you were laid up in a hospital bed. You remember that? The pain, your arm, the bruises have hardly fucking faded—”
“I don’t have time for this.”
When she reached for the door handle, the locks snapped shut.
“You’re gonna make time.”
Damn the fucking asshole. Strat put up with everything from her, like she would for him. He was her rock, the person she could always rely on. At least, he used to be. That fondness was dwindling by the second.
“Strat—”
“You got outta the hospital and took up with one of the most dangerous men in the city. I don’t know what happened there. It’s not my business, cool. But something went down between the two of you. It happened. Something happened.”
Like murder? Yeah, Conn had killed for her, with her. That connection, the memory of it…
Pushing her shoulders back, she took a deep breath. “Don’t ask me—”
“I’m not asking. This is a fucking list.” He curled a forefinger around his thumb and continued counting as he moved down his fingers. “The attack outside Stag, you and Ire’s shit, Helios, Silvio, Vex—”
“Evander has always been a part of my life.” Unfortunately. “My adult life.”
“The Carlyle fire, Marseille—”
“I’m dealing with that.”
“That’s my fucking point,” he said. “You’ve ran around these last few months taking shit from every fucking angle. You jumped on to my little girl’s cause and took all the heat yourself. Now your grandaddy’s lost and you’re not talking to anyone, not handling it, you’re bottling it up, shutting down.”
“No, I am staying busy. Lach and I talked about it. I’ll deal with the memorial, the service—”
“You don’t deal with your father cutting you out, condescending you, dismissing you.”
“What do you expect me to do? Go up there and confront him? Uh huh, yeah, it’s the perfect time for that.”
