Page 82 of Bitter’s Sweet

“Good.”

She grabs clothes from her suitcase and disappears into the bathroom.

The lock clicks.

I stand there listening to water start and wonder what the hell is wrong with me.

Because I want her. That ain’t new. Want is easy. Want is honest. Want has never asked more of me than skin, sweat, and a locked door. I know what to do with want.

But this thing under it, this tightness in my chest when I think about Razor calling her Doll, this fury when she thanks me for burnt grilled cheese, this ridiculous need to hear her laugh so I know fear hasn’t eaten her whole, that ain’t want.

Or it better not be.

I strip off my cut and hang it on the chair. Then I check the locks again, pull up the cameras on my phone, and text CSI.

Anything?

His answer comes a few seconds later.

Tracker history overlaps two Ravenfork sightings. Still working phone. If Maddox contacts her again, I want it.

I type back.

Trace incoming only. Nobody sends from her phone.

CSI:

Already told me.

I stare at that, then answer.

Telling you again.

Three dots.

Then:

Copy. She isn’t bait.

Good.

I text Hyde next.

Sweet secured. Mercy moving clubhouse. Razor got inside Sweet’s motel sometime before tonight. Left Reaper bandana marked DOLL.

Hyde answers.

Keep her.

I stare at the words, then type:

For tonight.

His reply comes fast.

Didn’t ask.

I throw the phone on the couch.