Page 7 of When The Noise Stops

There was a note.

Grizz—

You look like a man who can eat. I hope there's enough. You're welcome.

—Lila

I snorted. The sound surprised me.

I pulled out one of the muffins. Took a bite. It was still warm, the blueberries bursting on my tongue, the crumb topping sweet and buttery.

Goddamn it.

It was good. Better than good.

I made myself a plate of everything.

The boys showed up twenty minutes later. Tiny, Hawk, Sully, and Deacon.

They didn't usually come in. I would wait for them on the stoop with a coffee, ready to roll. But today I was still standing at the counter, eating.

Tiny opened my door without permission and walked in. The rest followed him because none of them had manners.

"What is this?" Tiny asked, walking over and looking into the basket.

"Breakfast," I said.

"From who?"

"The neighbor."

"The one you listen to have sex all the time." The rest of them laughed.

I narrowed my eyes.

"She left muffins for you all. Eat them and shut up, or get out."

I didn't see her that night.

Or the next morning.

I told myself I didn't care.

But I noticed.

Chapter 3

Knox

I leaned against the railing outside the duplex, a cigarette burning between my fingers, the first real break I'd had all day.

The shop had been a nightmare. Sully had dropped a transmission on his foot—nothing broken, but he'd been useless after, limping around and cursing up a storm. Hawk had spent two hours chasing a wiring issue that turned out to be a blown fuse. And Deacon had somehow managed to set a rag on fire while welding.

By the time I'd sent them all home and locked up, I was fried. Head pounding. Shoulders tight. The kind of tired that sat in your bones and made everything feel heavier.

Tiny and Hawk had followed me back to the duplex. We were standing out front, beers in hand, decompressing the way we always did. Tiny was mid-story about some woman he'd met at a bar, and I was only half-listening, staring at nothing, when headlights cut through the dusk.

A black SUV pulled up. An expensive one.