Page 33 of Override

“Still counts.”

The entire table erupts again while I shake my head and reopen the laptop sitting beside my beer.

“You brought your computer to a bar?” Sloane asks flatly.

“I bring it everywhere.”

“That’s deeply concerning.” Sloane states like I care how she feels.

“It’s called efficiency.”

“It’s called emotional avoidance,” Rachel corrects.

I ignore her on principle. Mostly because she’s annoyingly close to being right lately.

The Gallagher estate feed glows quietly across the corner of my screen while conversation swirls around me. Upstairs hallway. Kitchen. Exterior gates.

Maeve crossed through the west hallway fourteen minutes ago carrying tea and disappeared into the guest bathroom for exactly six minutes before reemerging.

I know this because apparently my brain now catalogs her movements automatically whether I want it to or not. That should concern me more than it does.

“What are you glaring at?” Matt asks from beside Rachel.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Wheels says. “That’s his serial killer face.”

“I don’t have a serial killer face.”

“You absolutely have a serial killer face,” Sloane informs me.

“Thank you, Sloane,” Rachel says proudly. “Finally someone else sees it.”

I lean back against the booth with a sigh. “For the record, this feels incredibly targeted.”

“Probably because you keep staring at your laptop like it owes you money,” Wheels says.

My eyes flick briefly back toward the screen before I can stop myself.

Unfortunately, Rachel notices. Because Rachel notices everything.

Her expression shifts almost imperceptibly while the others continue arguing about whether Matt cheated during darts three weeks ago.

I dislike whatever thought just formed in her head.

She says nothing though. Just watches me for one second too long before taking another sip of her drink.

Dangerous woman.

The bartender changes songs overhead, the opening guitar riff from Burn It To the Ground roaring through the speakers loud enough to shake the damn table while half the bar cheers drunkenly.

Wheels stands. “OH NOW WE’RE TALKING.”

“Sit down,” Matt says without looking up.

“No.” He starts throwing his hands in the air.

“Ray.”