“Understandably, Mace and Stella canceled the New Year’s Eve party,” she announced.
Oh, crap.
I’d forgotten about that. It was supposed to be tomorrow night.
I’d been dreading it (because of Knox).
But now I was upset it couldn’t happen (because of what had gone down with Knox).
“First thing post-surgery, he asked for you,” Raye stated a fact, regaining my attention.
I nodded again.
“I take it that didn’t go well.”
So she wasn’t going to pry stuff out of me that wasn’t hers to have.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to fish.
I felt my lips quirk and said, “He and I have different versions of why we didn’t work.”
“Ah,” she said.
“And even through drugged, half-lucid mumblings, his version is in serious error.”
“I’m sorry, Loon,” she said quietly.
I shrugged again, and it was no less a bullshit movement.
“Is Cheyenne going to be a problem?” she asked.
“My guess from her behavior yesterday and this morning…yes,” I answered.
“Fabulous,” she mumbled.
Indeed.
“You know, the Angels are all fired up to go after his sister’s boyfriend,” she shared.
“We’re gonna have to talk about that because this guy is not your run-of-the-mill lunatic,” I replied.
“Much the same as what Cap said. He came this close,”—she lifted a hand with a finger and thumb about a quarter inch apart—“from forbidding me to allow the Angels to dive in.”
“Whoa.”
“I know.”
“I think there’s criminal underworld stuff, then there’s John Wick-style criminal underworld stuff, and this is the latter,” I noted.
“Mm,” she hummed.
I had mentioned Raye was a badass.
I also mentioned we were all a bit nutso.
But taking this on—unless we had Nightingale-man-esque skills, which we did not—might be suicidal.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I said.
