Page 46 of Blood We Steal

“What is this?” she said, looking around at the storage room.

“Hopefully something that will help us survive. You figure out what it is.”

There were boxes stacked, toilet tissue, some other things. I hadn’t bothered to look.

She rubbed her arms. “I hope there aren’t any rats in here,” she whispered as she glanced at the telltale black pellets on the floor and boxes.

“You’ll be fine. Now inventory this,” I said.

Something flashed in her eye, but then shook her head. “Let me get my clipboard.”

She stared at me, waiting. And I stared back.

Do you love him?

The question I wouldn’t dare ask, one that I wanted the answer to. But it didn’t matter. She could love him, she could not.

Because loving Aaron changed nothing.

She was mine.

TWENTY-ONE

Simone

Rubin stood and watched me do my inventory. I’d wanted more than anything to tell him to fuck off, but I’d held my tongue. He wouldn’t have left, and getting under my skin was a victory I wasn’t in the mood to give him.

“The numbers haven’t changed,” I said.

“Good. Have you eaten?”

“No, I’m fine,” I said.

“Come on.”

I rolled my eyes but followed him into the rec room and back to the cafeteria.

I was surprised to see Veronica Shaw there, standing over the stove.

“Ms. Shaw, what are you doing?” Rubin asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she asked without looking at him.

Arben, who’d been slouched in a corner, glared at her. “Show some respect.”

She thinned her lips, and took three deep breaths and then looked at Arben, her expression unwavering. I wasn’t surprised. I had seen her on the news countless times disrupting—they liked to call it—city council meetings, demanding that she be heard.

She’d tangled with Rubin, too, though I wasn’t sure she knew it. Part of his business included land acquisition and she had fought fiercely to oppose rezoning of portions of her neighborhood. The Oaks was a century-old community that had been a pillar in Atlanta through many, many downs and a few ups, so of course the county thought it was a perfect place for a convention center.

But not on Veronica’s watch. Arben had been directly involved in trying to persuade her to stand down. I didn’t know the details, but it hadn’t gone well. And then Rubin had gone to prison and that had all gone on the back burner. But from the way Veronica looked at Arben, she still remembered.

And she didn’t like it one bit. “How many times do I need to remind you you don’t tell me what to do?”

Veronica’s voice was ice-cold, and she turned to fully face Arben, clearly ready to take him on. He just smiled at her, which seemed to make her angrier. “Keep telling yourself that, Ms. Shaw.” Arben turned to Rubin. “Apparently, Veronica’s a great cook.”

I couldn’t stop myself from interjecting. “Not sure even a great cook can do much with canned okra and collards,” I said.

Veronica chuckled, and then looked at me. “I won’t even pretend to be offended because you’re not lying, but I did what I could.”