Page 163 of Property of Whiskey

Cold slips beneath my skin.

Whiskey’s attention narrows.

“Wren.”

A pause.

“Baby, where are you?”

Whatever she says pulls every trace of humor out of him.

“No. You stay inside.”

The room begins noticing.

Legend notices first.

“What?”

Whiskey raises one hand without looking at him.

Listening.

“Don’t go to the window.”

My heart starts beating faster.

Sophie looks at me.

I stand.

Whiskey’s voice stays calm.

Too calm.

“Tell me again.”

He listens.

“The deer?”

What the hell?

Royal frowns.

Whiskey drags one hand over his beard.

“What deer?”

Another pause.

Then he says, “Prickle.” Whiskey closes his eyes. “Baby, I don’t know who Prickle is.”

He listens again.

“What do you mean your friend?”

I move closer.