He came to a slow halt beside me, his eyes never leaving mine to touch upon the car even once. Feet scuffing, he half turned to look at Jonathan. It stuck in my craw that I had helped clear his name. He had murdered at least two people in less than six months—one of them Francis. And here I was, sitting in the dead witch’s car.

I said nothing, gripping the wheel with my one good hand, my broken arm sitting in my lap, reminding myself that Trent was afraid of me. From the radio, a fast-talking announcer took over, and I turned the radio almost off. “I found the money,” I said as way of greeting.

He squinted at me, then shifted to stand by the side mirror to put his face in shadow. “You’re welcome.”

I peered up at him. “I never said thank you.”

“You’re welcome anyway.”

My lips pressed together. Ass.

Trent’s eyes dropped to my arm. “How long until it heals?”

Surprised, I blinked. “Not long. It was a clean break.” I touched the pain amulet about my neck. “There was some muscle damage, though, which is why I can’t use it well yet, but they say I don’t need any therapy. I’ll be back on the streets in six weeks.”

“Good. That’s good.”

It had been a quick comment—and it was followed by a long silence. I sat in my car, wondering what he wanted. There was a jittery cast to him, his eyebrows a shade too high. He wasn’t afraid, and he wasn’t worried. I couldn’t tell what he wanted. “Piscary said our fathers worked together,” I said. “Was he lying?”

The sun glinted on Trent’s white hair as he shook his head. “No.”

A sliver of ice dropped down my spine. I licked my lips and brushed a spot of dust from the steering wheel. “Doing what?” I asked casually.

“Come work for me, and I’ll tell you.”

My eyes went to his. “You are a thief, a cheat, a murderer, and a not-nice-man,” I said calmly. “I don’t like you.”

He shrugged, the motion making him look utterly harmless. “I’m not a thief,” he said. “And I don’t mind manipulating you into working for me when I need it.” He smiled, showing me perfect teeth. “I enjoy it, actually.”

I felt my face warm. “You are so full of yourself, Trent,” I said, wishing I could shift the car into reverse and drive over his foot.

His smile widened.

“What?” I demanded.

“You called me by my first name. I like that.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. “So throw a party and invite the Pope. My dad may have worked for your dad, but you are scum, and the only reason I’m not throwing your money back in your face is a, I earned it, and b, I need something to live on while I recover from injuries gained from keeping your ass out of prison!”

His eyes were glinting in amusement, and it made me furious. “Thank you for clearing my name,” he said. He went to touch my car, stopping as I made an ugly noise in warning. He turned the motion into seeing if Jonathan had moved. He hadn’t. Glenn, too, was watching us.