This is probably the part where I’m supposed to reassure her, but I’m feeling pretty fucking unassured myself. Perry was confident going into this thing, which made me confident as well. If he was secretly texting Margot messages like that though, I have to question if he knew more than he let on.

“Maybe we should all go back to your place,” I suggest weakly.

“No. We’re all staying right here until Perry gets back. From grocery shopping. For the first time in his life.”

“Everyone has to eat.”

Her glare deepens.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want the truth. Why are you here? Who even are you? And why is my brother sending me sketchy messages at eight in the morning when he struggles to get up by then on a good day.”

“It’s really not my place.”

“Well, I tried questioning him, and now he’s not around for me to do it. That means you’re up. And you need to start talking.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

PERRY

I almost choke on my tongue as I look over at Luther filling the hall. From the corner of my eyes, I catch Arlie slipping the gun into the holster under her jacket as Everett shifts back a step.

Somehow, Luther looks bigger from out behind the bar, all short brown hair and beard, basically the same length, so it’s impossible to tell where his head ends and his jawline begins.

A trickle of fear slips into my stomach.

I force a smile and pretend to glance behind me. “Perry? Who’s Perry?”

From beside me, Arlie groans. I don’t look, just back up a bit further.

“You know what? If I see this Perry fellow, I’ll let you know.”

Luther’s lips twitch. “Get in my office.”

“See, I would, but I get the feeling that if I go in there, I won’t be coming out again, and I sort of like it out here. Fresh air, nice lighting, ruthless thugs who probably want me dead … what’s not to love?”

“I’m not playing,” Luther tells me.

“Not in the mood? Too bad. I’ll come back later, then—” I go to turn and run face-first into a brick wall. Well, a person who feels like a brick wall. And I mean, I’m not a short guy, so the fact I can motorboat this behemoth’s chest gives me pause. In a race, I could probably have him if I wasn’t wearing jeans and my thighs weren’t torn up beyond reason, but in a fight? The only short odds I have is dying.

I pat behemoth’s terrifyingly wide man titties. “Are you, umm, in the mood to play?”

At his grunt, I shrink back from him.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Office, Perry.”