Jagged Edge

I shiver.

Rafe gestures at me, and I realize he’s been calling my name.

Shit.

“Excuse me,” I tell the technician and head toward the group.

Rafe Vestri is dressed in worn jeans and a faded blue T-shirt, the silver hoops in his ears glinting, his short blond hair standing up in spikes. He’s hot. All the Brotherhood members are hot.

Not like Jason, though.

Dammit, and now my thoughts are back on him, when I should at least pretend to listen to the owner of the shop where I work.

“You got the arrangement of the stalls handy?” Rafe is asking, toying with the sticks in his hands, his set of gleaming drums still vibrating from their last session. “I wanna check where Soul Stain are sitting.”

“Beside Zane and Ocean.” Thankfully I know this much, and I have the plan in my pocket. I pull it out. “Then we have some jewelry and clothes stalls to ensure the crowd mingles, and then the stalls of the other Damage Control inkers.”

He takes the plan from my hand and frowns at it. “Okay, this looks good. Jesse and Micah are coming back tomorrow from Chicago. Talk to them to see how they wanna be seated. And, Raine?”

“Hm?” I blink at him, obsessed with the fact that Jesse Lee will be back soon, and I can finally ask him about Simon Gomez.

And about Jason.

“What’s going on with you?” Rafe asks. He grips my arm, and I consciously don’t shrug him off. Rafe’s a big guy, tall and super muscular, much stronger than me. “You know you can talk to us, right? To me.”

Somehow the thought of bending our heads together and having a heart-to-heart isn’t something I can see in my mind’s eye, no matter how well he means.

“I know,” I lie.

“Something’s weighing on you.” He gives me a long look, as if he can read my mind, his amber eyes cat-like in the low lights. Creepy. “You’ve been here for a while, and you go out with us for beers and shit, but you always keep your distance somehow.”

“Sorry.” I take a step back and his hand drops to his side. “I’ll focus more. I know I’m here as a favor to my brother, and—”

“Whoa.

That’s what you think?”

I stare. “But…”

“We hired you because you gave a hell of an interview. You have the right skills, and are pleasant to customers. And you’ve been doing a good job of it, too. Until these past couple of weeks.” He leans closer, eyes narrowed. “We’re worried about you, Raine, not angry. We want to think we’re a family, not just a shop. If you need help with anything, we’re here for you. Got it?”

“Got it,” I whisper, and think about what Ocean said. That these guys have my back, our back. That we’re not alone.

But if dear old Dad brings in the mafia… If it all goes to hell, will our friends not back away? I wouldn’t blame them. They have their girls and kids to worry about.

Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.

Gary calls in the evening, as I finish up work at the movie theater. I know because I demand to know who it is, not because I saved his number in my phone or anything.

Awkward.

“So, hey,” he says with such a cheerful voice it hurts my ears. “I’ve been thinking about you. You haven’t returned my calls or messages, so I hesitated to do this. I mean, is it okay? That I called again?”

“Um, sure.” Should I apologize for not calling back before? Or be pissed he doesn’t seem to be getting the hint? “Look, Gary…”

“Before you say anything, hear me out. Please.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and swallow a sigh. “I’m listening.”