That word is getting dangerous.
Darlene kicks the drawer closed hard enough to rattle pans. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”
“I’m not pacing.”
“You’re orbiting.”
“I am working.”
“You wiped that counter four times.”
“It’s very clean.”
“It’s afraid of you.”
I toss the rag into the sink. “He should have called.”
“He probably thinks calling would make you ask questions.”
“I have questions.”
“Exactly.”
I press my palms against the counter and draw a breath through my nose. Cinnamon, coffee, sugar, rain, and frustration. “I don’t like this.”
“Good. Means your brain still works.”
“Darlene.”
She comes out of the kitchen with a tray of cooling biscuits and sets them on the counter. Her eyes soften by one microscopic degree. “Honey, men like Kauss get tangled in ugly things because ugly things recognize them. Doesn’t mean he wants it.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I know he’s trying to keep this away from me. I also know that keeping me ignorant doesn’t make me safe. It makes me stupid in the middle of a situation where stupid gets people hurt.”
“Now that I believe.”
The front bell rings.
The sound cuts through the bakery too sharply.
I look up.
Ron Sanchez walks in wearing sunglasses despite the rain.
For one second, my brain refuses to accept him. He should not be here. Lenrog was supposed to handle him. Kauss was supposed to be handling Lenrog. The Poison Memories were supposed to be scared, scattered, or at least smart enough not to walk into my bakery in broad daylight after everything that has happened.
Ron does not look smart.
He looks polished and unsteady, which is worse.
His purple mohawk is styled high, but the sides are damp from rain. A white bandage crosses the bridge of his nose where Kauss tore out the ring. Bruising stains both eyes yellow and purple beneath the glasses. His jacket is too expensive for Halo and too flashy for good taste, black synthleather with purple lining and silver studs along the cuffs. Three gang members come in behind him, but they do not swagger the way they did before. They look nervous. One keeps glancing toward the street.
Darlene goes very still beside me.
Ron lifts one hand in greeting. “Ladies.”
