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“It’s busted,” he cautiously announces, taunting object being leisurely rotated in his grip.
“Is there um…” my voice struggles to steady. “Is there uh…anyway to um…tell when it stopped working?”
Kipp shakes his head slowly. “I could ask around, though. Call some people and-”
“No!”
Concern in his expression deepens.
Hardens.
“Don’t do that.”
He knows so many people.
In so many places.
It’s what’s made it so fucking hard to stay hidden in any one place for too long.
I never know who’s watching.
Listening.
Working for him.
“Please…don’t…do…anything,” I forcefully beg. “Please, Kipp.”
The object is casually placed on the roof of the vehicle prior to him bracing one arm against it to support him as he leans his frame forward. “Bunny, is someone following you?”
Completely abandoning the will to eat and damn near the one to live is accompanied by my whispered response, “More like hunting.”
Chapter 5
Nolan
Funny thing about living and working and damn near doing everything with someone?
You grow this ability to just know they’re there even when they’re not speaking.
Even when they’re just looming at the edge of your tiny ass kitchen near the coffeemaker you need, throwing daggers at the back of your head because you somehow went from asshat to asshole while you were sleeping.
Pretty sure that’s not what the old ass movie was about.
I silently suck on my teeth and wait for the kid to inevitably speak.
“You outta be nicer to her.”
“Yeah?” Turning to face him is followed by crossing one foot in front of the other. “Maybe you outta be less nice, Kid.”
“Maybe I’m just the right amount of nice.”
“No. The right amount of nice was lettin’ her in to take a leak last night after you thought I was out. Not makin’ her ass a plate of our food and playin’ ‘please touch my monkey wrench’ until one in the morning.”
“What’s wrong, Nolan?” He folds his arms across his chest and leans his ass against the small island that houses our coffee machine. “You pissed she might’ve wanted to touch my monkey wrench and not yours?”
“Well, well, well, would you look at that,” I taunt back, snark undeniable. “Your balls finally dropped.” A sardonic smirk pops onto my face. “Mitzvah or whatever.”
He lets his crystal stare narrow in my direction.
