Page 42 of The Darkest Chase
Maybe I haven’t been as subtle as I thought in keeping people at a careful distance.
Still.
It’s all just dumbass rumors, even if they’re brushing the truth.
I shrug and lean over the back of the Jeep to coax Rolf down again. He can make the jump up, but the landing can hurt his joints.
“I don’t see how I’m not cold,” I mutter.
“I don’t mean you’re soft. Or warm. Or even approachable—”
“Thanks,” I bite off.
“Sorry! This is coming out wrong. Like, it’s not about what you say or how you say it,” Talia points out. “It’s about what you do. And what you’ve done so far is save me from an asthma attack, and now you’re saving me from breaking my back with this pack, and you’re worried about my safety. That’s enough to tell me you’re a pretty good guy, and that’s all that really matters.”
I stop cold, looking over my shoulder at her for too long, my heart thumping.
How naïve is this girl?
So bright, so sweet, so prone to seeing the best in someone just from a little commonsense preparedness and the fact that the other morning I was doing my job as a cop.
I get the same weird sensation on the back of my neck that I always do before I look up and see them on the tree outside my house. Two of them today, both crows I’m sure I’ve seen a hundred times.
Do you remember why you ended up in law enforcement, Micah?
Do you remember that once you wanted to be better?
Yeah, once.
Before you died, Jet.
Before I had nothing left in my unhappy life but hunting down the men most responsible for that.
The small-time dealer who sold him his stash is already in jail. I almost lost my job over that bust. Fucker shot at me and missed my throat by inches. I kneecapped him and broke both his legs.
He lived.
He’s lucky I let him have that much.
I’m not asshole enough to abuse my authority to murder a small-timer. Not when it was far more satisfying to deliver him into a lengthy prison sentence—and in exchange for reduced sentencing, that small-timer was happy to start blabbing.
Insane stuff at first. Yet as I started tracing leads and following the trail, they all pointed to Redhaven. It all started making sense.
The rot here really does run deep, right to the soil and soul.
I tear my gaze away from Talia’s sweet blue eyes.
If I’m not careful, she’ll wind up just as blood-soaked as the rest of this accursed place.
The damn crows are still staring with their black button eyes.
You’re putting her in harm’s way, asshole.
Is that what you want?
I grit my teeth. This isn’t the time to bark back at them like I do some days and leave Talia wondering how sane I really am.
I know crows don’t really talk. They don’t telepathically beam my dead brother’s accusations into my mind or whatever.