a guy who makes the cake you do, a setback for a guy who earns like me, but it’s a disaster for Evie.”
Mag lifted a hand and stabbed a finger in the direction of the room they’d just left and carried on talking.
“He put her there. He knew it was a possibility she’d be there or in some other situation that’d have her shit twisted, and he didn’t give a fuck. I’m not gonna offer him protection or ask Brock to get the cops to swing him a deal if he takes care of his sister. He’s her blood. He shouldn’t need to get something to give that to his sister. I’ll sort her shit and whatever happens to him is not my problem. And I’ll find a way to get Evan to that same thinking.”
Hawk did not argue this, and Mag knew it was because he agreed, he just wanted Mag to consider the options.
Mag looked to Brock. “You know someone on the street called Snag who drives a Lincoln Continental?”
“My beat isn’t narcotics anymore,” Brock answered. “But I’ll ask around.”
Mo entered the conversation. “You get answers, you give them to me.”
“Mo—” Mag started.
Mo turned to Mag. “For now. You take care of Evan. While you do, I’ll be lookin’ into shit. Your focus now is her. I’ll work with Aug, Boone and Axl to make it so, when that can shift, you hit the ground running.”
Mag nodded then gave his attention back to Brock. “Appreciate you arranging this.”
“Not a problem,” Brock murmured. “Hate to say this, bub, but you’re gonna have to bring her in. She needs to make a statement.”
Mag hated to hear it, but he knew that.
“I’ll talk to her,” he replied, then cast his gaze between all of them. “I gotta get home to Evie.”
He got nods and chin lifts.
Then he took off.
Mag was standing at his door, saying good-bye to Boone and Axl.
Evie, they’d told him, had crashed an hour before.
Probably the Fireball.
And spent emotion.
And the fact, with two jobs, one she worked that was physical and ran into the dead of night, she had to run herself ragged.
“Thanks for lookin’ out for her,” he said.
“If you need anything…” Boone stated.
“She’s gonna need help with cleanup of her pad,” Mag told him.
“When you dig in, call, I’m there,” Boone replied.
“I’m in too,” Axl said.
That meant, whatever went down with them while he was away, Evan had earned their approval.
Not a surprise, she was kind of a dork, but it was seriously cute.
He nodded.
Boone lifted a hand, Axl lifted his chin, and they took off.
Mag shut the door and locked it.
He was turning out lights and telling himself it would be invasive to check on Evan to make sure she was sleeping when he heard the door to Mo’s room open.
He arrested when he saw her in the sliver of the door she hadn’t opened all the way.
Boone or Axl had given her one of his tees to sleep in.
Christ.
Yeah, she had great legs.
“Hey,” she said, opening the door farther and leaning against the jamb.
Oh yeah.
Great fucking legs.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“I…” She gave her head some short shakes then asked, “You went to go talk to Mick, didn’t you?”
Shit.
Busted.
“We’ll chat about this tomorrow,” he told her, moving her way.
“He didn’t do anything to help, did he?”
He stopped in front of her and murmured, “Evie.”
“It’s okay,” she said.
“It’s really not,” he replied.
“I’m used to it,” she mumbled.
“You shouldn’t be,” he returned.
She sucked her lips between her teeth.
“You gonna be able to sleep?” he asked.
“Sure,” she lied.
Damn, he wanted to hold her.
There, in the doorway to Mo’s old room.
Or take her to his bed, stretch out beside her and hold her all night.
Give her something solid. Give her proof not everyone in her life was a dick.
He didn’t do either.
He walked back to the kitchen, nabbed the toothbrush and tube of toothpaste that he’d picked up for her, brought it back and handed it to her.
“Didn’t think to ask your brand,” he said.
She was staring down at the stuff in her hand, seemingly frozen to the spot.
“Evie?” he called, and her head came up.
“Toothpaste is toothpaste,” she replied, her voice husky. “It’s just sweet you remembered.”
At least he gave her that.
Though, from the look on her face, it seemed, for her, it was a fuckuva lot more than toothpaste.
“Danny, I don’t know how I can thank—” she began.
“Stop, baby,” he murmured. “Anyone would do what I did when they walked up to you with your apartment like