Page 104 of Bad Attitude
“Uh-huh.” There are more gaps in Declan Hale’s life than a chain-link fence. “What age did you leave?”
“At twenty-two. Ten years ago.” The book goes back down again. “Since you’re going to ask, I then did a bachelor’s degree. Veteran’s pathway. Two years studying political science, then dropped out.” He gestures at the book. “I guess some of it landed.”
That’s the most I’ve heard from him in… ever. “Twenty-four,” I say. “And the next eight years?”
“Here and there.” His head tilts. “You know how it is, Raven. We drift from one thing to another, getting into trouble. Not something I want to talk about.”
Idoknow how it is, except he seems way more complicated than the life he’s describing. “You said, ‘ask me anything,’” I remind him.
“Fine.” His hands fold across his stomach. “Go ahead.”
“So with that schooling, you must’ve had job options?”
“I tried the corporate life, but I don’t do well with authority.” He grimaces. “Lasted a year. Then I did some work as a security contractor. It’s pretty typicalfor ex-military.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Prefer being out on my bike, but I still need to get paid. Did a couple of jobs through contacts, found I preferred it. Ended up joining Briggs’s gang, then he handed me off to Kurt.”
The answer makes sense, yet for some reason it still doesn’t ring true. It’s not what he says, but how he says it. Too flat, like it’s almost rehearsed. I ask my next question without missing a beat, already having it prepared. “Where do you go on Saturday mornings?”
“I like to get out,” he says, trying for nonchalance and not quite pulling it off. “It’s not every Saturday or anything. Sometimes I just like to go and… touch grass.”
Bland. Yet difficult to pick holes in, especially when I’m not supposed to know what I know. And he hasn’t lied—not exactly.
He pushes himself up. “I’m going to take a shower.” He lifts a hand to forestall me. “Don’t worry, stay there. I can manage.”
That sounds awfully like a dismissal.
“Sure. Call me if you need me.”
I stare at the dead TV, waiting for him to leave, unease sitting low in my chest. He hops to the bathroom, stronger than he was yesterday, and the shower starts.
I give him a minute to get in, then reach for my phone and call Cammy’s number, just needing a friend to talk to.
She picks up quickly. “Hey babe, what’s new?”
“Not much. Marking time until Sunday. I assume Kurt’s told you?”
“The planning session for the secret big job? Wouldn’t miss it.” She pauses. “You’re not calling me to talk about that, are you?”
“Not really, no.”
“So how is he?”
I sigh. “Aggravating. Annoying. The absoluteworst.”
“So you like him then.”
I lift the phone away from my ear, stare at it for a moment, then put it back. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes. He’s affecting you more than anyone else ever has, makes you actively uncomfortable, and you’re enjoying it.”
“I… how the hell did you getthat?”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong.” Except for the bits where she’s not. Which infuriatingly, is kinda all of it.
“Bullshit.” She gives a brief chuckle. “He’s staying with you, right?”
“Yeah…”
