“Not for Bell Bar, no.” She tapped the diagonal quadrant, one full of dark woods, gleaming brass, historical tile, and deep red vinyl. “I think it still needs to look a little like it used to. Like Bell Bar – but fancier, maybe. Not so much beer neon, but still like sort of…European-y, you know?”
The look she’d picked reminded him of the photos he’d seen of Baskerville Hall in London. “I like it, too.” He gave an approving nod. “Don’t let some guy namedToddpush you into picking something that’s not right. Go with your gut.”
She chuckled. “What’s wrong with the name Todd?”
“It’s just so…Toddy.”
She laughed again, and reached up to pat his cheek. “Jealous, baby boy?”
“No.” And, really, he wasn’t. “Ava’s having a dinner tonight. Six-thirtyish,” he said. “She invited me, and said Aidan and Sam, and Tango and Whitney were coming. You wanna go?”
“Oh, sweetie, I can’t. I have class tonight until seven-thirty.”
“Shit. I forgot.” He frowned. “I’m sure you could come by after you got out. We could save a plate. Ava wouldn’t…mind.” He trailed off in response to her smile – another of those soft, sad, close-lipped things she’d given him the night they were together last.
A night that was getting farther and farther away without any intimate contact since. No sleepovers, no sex, no makeouts. Nothing but a few hasty pecks, and smiles that tasted more and more of regret.
“Jazz,” he said, and heard the question in his voice.Do you still want this? Do you still want me?
She patted his chest, hand lingering after. “We’ll do something tomorrow night, huh? Something fun. But you go enjoy hanging out with your friends tonight, honey. I won’t mind at all.”
Your friends. That made it seem like she didn’t countherselfas his friend.
~*~
“I followed him to Cook’s Coffee,” Tenny said, with only the barest gesture toward the photos he’d snapped: now displayed on Ratchet’s laptop for all to see. “He met a friend, and they sat outside on the patio. Their conversation was quiet, and terse, and not of the sort you would want to have in public.” His accent was very posh and professional when he gave a report, Reese noticed; even crisper than his usual, which he’d self-described as “BBC proper.”
“Specifics?” Fox prompted, brows lifted in expectation.
Tenny – pacing back and forth across the width of the common room – lifted his hands to gesture and put on a sulky, American teenage accent. “Dude, her parents hired a detective! They’re gonna find out!”
“Find out what?” Ghost asked, his tone tight – with impatience, Reese interpreted. Though Ghost seemed to find Fox’s repertoire of accents and mannerisms entertaining, he didn’t share that sentiment when it came to Fox’s younger brother.
Because Tenny was an incurable asshole. One who still wasn’t behaving normally around Reese.
Once upon a time, that sort of thing would never have bothered him. But now…
Tenny halted, and turned, the tips of his fingers braced against a tabletop in a deceptively light stance; Reese knew he could have spun from it into a roundhouse kick without any obvious effort. “They weren’t nearly that helpful. Lots of wondering what the police knew, and about the Dogs.”
Fox made aplease elaborategesture. “About how the Dogs…?”
“How you questioned his father and, quote, tried to scare him at the shop. And about how he loathes you all, apparently, though don’t credit him enough to think he uttered the wordloathe.”
“We,” Fox said.
Tenny’s brows went up, in turn.
“You’re a Lean Dog prospect. When you refer to the Dogs, you should saywe.”
Tenny blinked in momentary shock. Then he tapped his fingers twice on the tabletop and resumed his previous expression. “Yes. Well. He isn’t a fan, regardless.”
Fox said, “The boy’s involved, most definitely. Whether he killed the girl himself, or knows who did, he’s not innocent.”
“Boss,” Mercy said, “I think it’s time for a little…” He offered a gesture that looked, at least to Reese, like the motion of turning a screwdriver. Mercy had several of those in his tacklebox; he’d offered Reese a thorough tour of it, once, and Reese had found its contents gratifyingly satisfactory.
Ghost sighed. “Probably. We’ll let Eden tail him for a few days, see if she can find anything. I really want some hard evidence before we move. And I don’t want to fuck this kid up too badly.” He lifted an admonishing finger toward Mercy.
Mercy tipped his head back in mock dismay.
