Page 32 of Scornful

"I don't know. Mom says she's happier. Not as tightly wound." He glances over at me. "You saw her at the spa, right? She seem okay to you?"

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. "What?"

"Mom mentioned you had an appointment with her a couple days ago. For your back?" Emil's watching me now, but his expression is just curious, not suspicious.

I force myself to relax. "Yeah. Now I know why everyone says she’s got magic hands. Back’s never felt better."

Emil nods, agreeing with me. "Yeah, she does. For what it’s worth, she's been through enough shit with that asshole Laken. I just want her to be happy, you know?"

The guilt intensifies, spreading through my chest like battery acid. "Yeah, I know."

"I'd kill anyone who hurt her again," he adds casually, like he's discussing the weather instead of threatening murder. "And Dad would be right behind me with a shovel for the body."

I focus on reassembling the rifle in my hands. “The entire club would be right there with you, brother.”

Emil changes the subject, thankfully. "You hear what Runes wants to discuss at church?"

"The Patriot."

Emil closes the ammunition crate, marking off something on his clipboard. "Yeah, he wants to put our heads together and see if we can figure out who's behind this shit."

"Any ideas who?"

"Could be anyone. Hangarounds, someone at one of our businesses, hell, even a cop trying to get inside info." Emil shrugs. "You know how it is. The more we grow, the more eyes on us."

"Paranoia keeps you alive, if anything else."

"Exactly." Emil stands, dusting off his hands. "Runes is extra careful after what happened to Flora."

Fuck, we’re all being extra careful after what happened to Flora.

She never should’ve died in the first fucking place.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, my heart rate picking up when I see Astrid's name on the screen.

Can we talk? Tonight?

Emil nods toward my phone. "Someone important?"

I clear my throat, tucking it away. "Just Dasha. Been talkin’ to her about a new piece I'm thinking of getting."

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but Emil doesn’t even think I’m lying to him.

Why would he?

Brothers don't lie to brothers. Except I am, and I hate myself for it.

"Let's finish up here," I say. "I need to check on Rio after this."

Emil nods, and we get things wrapped up. When we're done, we lock up and head back to our bikes.

As we're pulling our helmets on, Emil suddenly says, "You know you can tell me anythin’, right?"

I freeze, searching his face for any sign he knows, but his expression is open, genuine.

"Yeah," I say finally. "I know."

"Good." He kickstarts his bike. "Because you're actin’ fuckin’ weird, and sooner or later, I'm gonna find out why."

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