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“Jesus! I don’t even know your number! Why the hell would I text you?”
“Tyler?” said Tammy. “Should I call?”
I don’t even know your number. That was true. Michael had never given Tyler his number. Not that it wasn’t listed with most of his business stuff, but still . . .
Michael couldn’t catch his breath. He glanced around again. He was causing a scene—but no one else had come out of the woodwork.
Tyler gave Michael a clear up and down. “He’s all right. He’s going to sit down and have a beer. Right?”
Michael looked around again. The anticipatory tension in the restaurant was potent. God, what was wrong with him?
He collapsed into the chair across from Tyler. Normal activity slowly resumed around him. The four men returned to their tables. Tammy picked up her tray and slid the phone into a pocket of her apron.
Tyler scooted back up to the table. “You don’t have dy***ite strapped to you or anything, do you?”
Michael glared. “Don’t be an idiot, Tyler.”
“You come rolling in here like a psycho, and I’m the idiot. Okay.”
“If you didn’t text me, what are you doing here?”
“Having dinner.”
Michael pulled a whole peanut out of a bucket on the table and crushed it between his fingers. He didn’t want to eat it, but he needed something destructive to do with his hands. He glanced around again, ready for someone to jump out of the shadows and yell Boo! “Sure. Here. This is your scene.”
“I don’t know if it’s my scene, but my family owns this place, so it’s free.” He paused. “What are you doing here?”
“Your family owns this place?”
“My grandparents did, actually. My folks inherited when they died. Want me to draw you a family tree?”
“No, I’m good.”
But he wasn’t good. This didn’t make sense. Did . . . whoever-it-was know that this was Tyler’s family’s restaurant? Did it matter?
You’ll know me when you see me.
Another glance around. The only person he recognized was Tyler.
But really, this whole thing—none of it felt like Tyler, just like none of it felt like Calla. Tyler had brutalized Michael’s family for years, wanting the Merricks put to death because they were full Elementals. Then Tyler had accidentally revealed his carefully kept secret to Nick: Tyler was a full Elemental himself—a powerful Fire Elemental who had just as much reason to fear the Guides coming to town as the Merricks did.
They weren’t friends now, not by a long shot. But Tyler hadn’t bothered them in weeks. And no one knew Tyler was a Fire Elemental.
Michael took a long breath and let it out. “Our house was set on fire last night.” He hesitated, keeping his voice low. “My whole street.”
Tyler frowned, then went still. He leaned in against the table. “I heard about that on the news. I didn’t know it was your neighborhood.” He paused, and his voice sharpened. “And you thought I would do that?”
“No—I don’t—” Michael shook his head. The adrenaline was fading, letting exhaustion settle in again. “I have no idea who did it.”
“No wonder you look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
Tammy reappeared beside their table and unloaded two frosted bottles of Natty Boh, and then a platter of nachos. Tyler thanked her, and Michael smashed another peanut.
“Hungry?” said Tyler.
He hadn’t eaten all day, but he couldn’t think of putting food in his mouth right now. “No.”
