Burn Down the Night (Everything I Left Unsaid #3)- Molly O'Keefe Page 0,41

unreliable.”

She pursed her lips at me, and if I could have, I would have broken down walls to get my hands on her. But the metal around my wrist wasn’t going to give.

“Let’s see how you feel after these texts.” She squared her shoulders like some kid in a recital. “First up, from a woman named Sharon.” She cleared her throat, put on a whiney voice. “ ‘I miss you, BB. You haven’t called in so long. The girls are getting lonely.’ ” She dropped the voice. “The girls, I believe, are her tits. I can only surmise that because she sent you a picture of them. Which are…not bad. I’d fuck her.” She turned the phone toward me so I could look. I glared at her instead.

Surmise. Listen to her.

“Ooohhhkay, not interested in what Sharon has to say. Maybe I’ll text her a little note that she should just move on. Find herself another sociopath to sext with.”

I kept my mouth shut because Sharon didn’t matter, and both of us knew it. Joan was playing with fire and pretending like she didn’t care as she scrolled through my texts.

“Oh, here’s one. From some guy named BLJ; where have I heard that name before?” She looked at me over the edge of the phone, her face twisted up like she was confused. “Oh right, he’s one of the guys who has been arrested for those bombs.” She tsked. “Nasty business those bombs. Poor Zo. I’m glad he’s got that insurance money to console him. Anyway, good old BLJ says: ‘Where the fuck are you?’ ”

She said it in a voice, like she was pretending to be a bear or some shit.

“When was that sent?” I asked, despite knowing I shouldn’t engage with her on this stuff. But still…BLJ.

After I’d pushed Dylan out of the club, after I’d forced him as far away from me as possible, I’d gotten tight with BLJ. We called him BLJ, because his name was Jim and the night he got patched in, he’d gotten so fucked-up he’d tried to jump off the roof of the clubhouse and broke his leg. Broken-leg Jim.

I took him to the hospital that night. And then took him to my house because his apartment had stairs. We’d gotten high and watched old episodes of The X-Files.

That guy tried to kill me. Planned to kill me. And I swear to God, he was the closest thing I had to a friend in that life.

“Just before I detonated the first bomb,” Joan said. “You think he was trying to find you so they could kill you?” she asked, like it was no big deal. “I mean, seems likely, right? He was standing there with Rabbit. He was one of the guys who kicked you when you were bleeding on the ground. Sorry, one of your brothers who kicked you when you were bleeding on the ground.”

She lifted her hands in air quotes around brothers.

I said nothing.

“You want me to text him back?” she asked. “Hey, BLJ, lost my phone for a while let’s grab a drink and catch up?”

I glared at her.

“No? Probably a smart idea. That guy was a total buzzkill, anyway. Eva said she took him in the back room once and…” She lifted her pinky and then slowly lowered it while making a sad trumpet sound.

I would not smile. I would not. Nothing about this shit was funny.

Except her.

“Okay,” she said, eyes back on the phone. “Let’s see what else we’ve got here. Oh, here’s a good one from someone named D.” I couldn’t control my reaction before she looked up at me. So she saw me stiffen. She saw me frown and try to hide it. I gave away everything in that one second.

“Dylan, right? Your real brother?”

I wanted to roar off this bed and grab the phone from her. I wanted to push her down on her knees in front of me. I wanted to hurt her and fuck her all at the same time. But I showed her none of that. I gave her nothing. In fact, I managed to pick up the sandwich on the plate next to me. And I took a bite. It was sawdust and glue.

“You going to read it?” I asked around a mouthful of ham and swiss. Tons of mayo, which was gross.

She looked at me for a long moment, like she could see right through my bullshit. Like I could pretend all I wanted, and it wouldn’t matter. She’d still see everything