Page 123 of Joker

Straight to business. Makes sense. Men like him and Logan don’t call each other in the middle of the day to shoot the shit.

Logan glances at me once before saying, “Nah. Everybody’s breathing. But there’s something we need to talk through.”

Silence on the other end. Then, sharper, “Raven?”

That one-word question carries enough weight to tell me everything I need to know about the man. Whatever happened between him and his daughter over the last few years, whatever distance Cal forced into her life, he still goes to her first.

Good. That matters.

“She’s fine,” I say before Logan can answer.

There’s a beat. Then another.

And when Grinder speaks again, his voice is colder. “Joker.”

“Yeah.”

“She alright?”

I look out through the office window toward the lot. Raven’s still outside with Lexi, one hand on the kid’s shoulder while Amy and Gio run circles around them like little heathens.

“She’s safe,” I say. “Kid too.”

That gets me another stretch of silence. Like he’s trying to decide what the fuck kind of conversation this is about to be.

He figures it out before Logan has to spell it out. I can hear it happen in the way his tone changes. Low. Flat. Dangerously controlled. “What’s going on?”

Logan folds his hands over his stomach and leans back farther in the chair like he’s settled in for a show.

I make a mental note to hit him later. Then I look at the phone on the desk and decide to do this clean.

No hedging. No bullshit. No trying to soften it so it goes down easier. That’s not who I am, and it sure as hell isn’t how this needs to be said.

“Me and Raven are together.”

Silence. Complete, absolute silence.

Behind me, Blaze presses his lips together hard enough that I know he’s fighting for his life not to laugh.

Shadow elbows him in the ribs.

Cain crosses his arms and wisely says nothing.

On the phone, Grinder finally speaks. And when he does, his voice could strip paint. “The fuck you just say?”

I don’t blink. “You heard me.”

“I sent my daughter there for protection,” he bites out, “not to become your fucking whore.”

Everything in me goes dead still. Not hot. Not wild. Not reckless.

Cold. Lethal.

The kind of still that only ever comes right before something gets broken.

Behind me, the whole room changes too. The air shifts.

Shadow straightens.