Usually.
There was a hint of amusement in that broodiness when he caught me looking between him and his brother. “I know what you’re thinking. He’s older, but I got all the good looks.”
That wasn’t exactly the truth. They were both blessed in the looks department.
“What’s happening?” Rhys cut in, getting down to business.
Glitch finally pulled his focus from whatever he’d been doing with his tablet and the hole in the wall. “You ever fuck around over here?”
“And mess with your handiwork?”
“Take it apart, throw something at it to stop it from beeping, anything?” At Rhys’s headshake, he continued. “Have you had an electrician in here lately?”
“No. Why?”
Glitch tensed. It was so subtle, it was almost imperceptible.
But I caught it.
“A few wonky wires,” he answered, keeping it simple rather than overexplaining or playing dumb the way most people did when they were lying.
Finally, a convincing actor.
That didn’t change the fact he was hiding something.
I weighed the best course of action. Everyone had been surprisingly friendly. If I came out swinging with accusations and demands, I wouldn’t get far. Not with that tight group. And I would lose whatever progress I’d made with infiltrating them. Everyone would go on guard around me, making me even more of an outsider than I already was. I would have a much harder time piecing together if there was something happening beyond an unfortunate coincidence or competitive sabotage if everyone shut up and watched their backs around me.
The smart thing to do was ignore Glitch’s reaction.
Since staying totally silent would set off as many alarm bells, I asked, “Did Mickey and his mouse brothers mess with something?”
“What’d I say about mouse talk?” Rhys muttered.
“Does it look like I’m racing to narc to the health department?”
“Yes,” he shot back instantly.
And not just him. Jury and Glitch tossed in their own affirmatives.
I shot them all a narrow-eyed scowl. “Unless you had a huge infestation or were letting the mice control your cooks and bartenders by pulling their hair, I don’t care about what’s happening in the walls.”
“Speaking of control and hair pulling, how’d your date go last night?” Jury asked.
It took me a long second to realize he wasn’t asking one of his Mayhem brethren.
He was asking Rhys.
He had a date?
He had backed out of the dinner that he’d been the one to suggest, but I hadn’t seen his car leave.
Okay, fine. I might’ve been too distracted to see it. The app on my phone would’ve alerted me, though.
Unless he’d already found the tracker and tossed it into the harbor.
That would suck. Not only were those tiny bastards expensive, discovering it right after I’d been in his car would put me at the top of his suspect list.
There was always the possibility he took his bike. I couldn’t stop myself from picturing some leggy bombshell wrapped around him as they cruised around.
