Page 306 of Property of Whiskey

“Does Whiskey?”

My blood goes cold.

Wren.

Motherfucker.

I move again.

Twila plants herself directly in front of me.

“No.”

“Move.”

“No.”

“He’s talking about Wren.”

“I know.”

“Twila.”

“He wants you outside.”

“Good. I’m going.”

“No. He wants you angry.”

“I am fucking angry.”

“I know.”

Her palm presses flat against my chest.

“Be smarter.”

Every part of me hates those two words.

“Killing him doesn’t stop this.”

“You sure?” I ask, but I stay where I am.

Crowley speaks again. “You’ve found an empty house and old paperwork. I hope the exercise was satisfying.”

Legend says, “You seem nervous.”

Crowley chuckles. “I’m standing alone in a yard with four armed people hiding inside.”

Legend’s gaze sharpens. “You know exactly how many.”

Crowley doesn’t answer.

Twila catches it too.

He didn’t guess who came.

He knew.