She reacted before catching herself. Her head snapped to the side as if I’d slapped her, but drawing in a harsh breath, she froze. I waited, watching as her chest slowly deflated. Then she swallowed before she closed her eyes, her head folding downward. “I didn’t expect this response either.” She raised back up, her eyes almost haunted. Her cheeks looked more gaunt. She lost color, as if I were a ghost she just saw. “You were supposed to hate me, Bren. Why aren’t you hating me?”

I leaned forward, my elbows to my knees. “Instead of wasting that emotion, why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

Cross hadn’t waited to fill me in at the house tonight. He called right after his class, left me a message on the vibe he was picking up from his brother. He was right. There was more going on.

Tabatha didn’t respond.

I tried with a different question. “My brother is a bounty hunter. You know that, right?”

She laughed, and even that sounded hollow. “Everyone knows from Roussou. Channing Monroe takes care of our town. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he hooked me up with a local team here. I’m going to be working with them.” Well, technically… “I mean, I am working with them.”

“So?”

“So, I have access to find out shit. Like who the fuck Tim Harper is and why someone we know thinks he’s a sleaze.”

She froze again, and then slowly, as if she were letting one muscle at a time unlock, a different look came to her. Hope? Fear? Caution? I couldn’t place it, but it was a mix of all of them and more. So much more.

She whispered, “Who said that to you?”

I didn’t think Blaise would care I dropped his name, he could handle himself, but it was the principle of not outing someone that kept me from saying his name. I shrugged. “Just someone.”

She stared at me, long and hard. “Blaise DeVroe.”

Her eyes closed a brief moment and she nodded to herself. Her hands raised up, raking through her hair before dropping back to her knees. “That makes sense. He wouldn’t give a shit about Harper either. Zeke would. Zeke would get in trouble, and that’s why you’re not confirming it came from Blaise.” She was talking to herself, studying the wall by her door. “What do I do here? What do I do?” Another anguished whisper choked out as she closed her eyes, “I have no idea what to do here.”

I lost patience. “Just tell me what is going on! Let’s start there.”

“You don’t get it. You don’t—”