Page 126 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“Of course it bothers me.”

“You don't act like it.”

Ronan gave him a look. Elliot immediately heard himself. He almost smiled.

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Fair.”

Ronan sat across from him. For several moments, neither spoke. Outside, Sunday morning moved quietly across the property. The main house remained dark except for the kitchen windows. Rebecca and Thomas usually slept late on Sundays unless Rebecca had decided church attendance temporarily mattered again. The backyard was wet from overnight rain. Bare branches scratched softly against one another above the stone path. Peaceful. Safe. The entire property looked incapable of containing anything ugly. Elliot had always liked that.

“You worried?” Ronan asked.

“No.”

“Liar.”

Elliot stared into his coffee.

“About you.”

Ronan's expression softened.

“Don't.”

“What?”

“Get weird.”

“I'm not getting weird.”

“You are.”

“Police think you're dangerous.”

“I am dangerous.”

Elliot looked up. Ronan smiled faintly.

“Sometimes.”

“That isn't funny.”

“It wasn't supposed to be.”

Elliot studied him. Ronan had always accepted his own reputation more easily than Elliot understood. He didn't care when strangers found him intimidating. Sometimes Elliot suspected he enjoyed it. People moved out of his way. They stopped asking questions. They rarely underestimated him. Elliot had spent his life cultivating the opposite response. He wanted people close. Comfortable. Unprotected. Two entirely different strategies. Both useful.

“Would you tell them about us?” Elliot asked.

Ronan's smile vanished.

“What?”

“If they asked directly.”

“They already know.”