Bitter Blood (Morganville Book #2)

Chapter 11

"You are so busted," Eve said, as I, fresh from a shower, ran down the steps shouldering my book bag.

Eve was sitting at the dining table, sipping a Coke and reading a Cosmo article with great concentration. She was wearing pink today - or, as Eve liked to call it, Ironic Pink. Pink shirt with poison skull and bones logo. Matching pink pedal-pushers with skulls embossed at the hems. Little pink skull hair ties on her pigtails, which stood out from her head aggressively, daring someone to mock them.

"Excuse me?" I kept moving. Eve barely glanced up from the article.

"Don't even try," she said. "I know that look."

"What look?" I shoved open the kitchen door.

"The now-I-am-a-woman look. Oh God, don't tell me, please, because then I have to feel guilty that you're eighteen and I should have been more of a den mom, right?" I couldn't think of anything to say. Eve sighed. "He'd better have been a good, sweet boy to you, or I swear, I'll kick his ass from here to - Hey, is that Justin's shirt?"

It was. "No." I hurried into the kitchen.

Michael was standing at the coffeepot, pushing buttons. He looked over at me and raised his eyebrows, but he didn't say anything.

"What?" I demanded, and dumped my book bag on the table as I poured myself a glass of orange juice. "Do I owe back rent?"

"We've got some things to talk about other than the rent."

"Like what?" I kept my stare focused on my OJ."Like how far you're going to take this whole undercover-cop thing with Bishop, and whether or not you're going to get yourself killed? Because I'm wondering, Michael."

He took in a deep breath and ran his hands through his curly golden hair as if he wanted to rip a handful out in frustration. The cut on his hand, I noticed, was neatly healed without any trace of a scar. "I can't tell you anything else. I already took a huge risk telling you what I did, understand?"

"And did I rat you out? No. Because according to Patience Goldman, this" - I yanked back my sleeve and showed him the tattoo, which was barely a shadow now under my skin, and hardly moving at all - "this thing is running out of juice. I don't think he's noticed yet, but he probably will soon."

"That's why I told you to stay away from him."

"Not like I came on my own! Theo . . . " It struck me hard that I hadn't even asked, and I felt all of my good vibes of the morning flee in horror. "Oh God. Theo and his family - "

"They're okay," Michael said. "They were taken to a holding cell. I checked on them, and I told Sam. He'll get word to Amelie."

"That'll do a lot of good."

Michael glanced up at me as he poured his coffee. "You seem different today."

I was struck speechless, and I felt a blush burn its crimson onto my face. Michael's eyebrows rose, slowly, but he didn't say anything.

"Okay, that's . . . not what I meant. And don't ever play poker." He gave me a half smile to show me he wasn't going to harass me about it. Yet. "You moving back in?"

"I don't know." I swallowed and tried to get my racing heartbeat under control. "I need to talk to my parents. They're really . . . I'm just scared for them, that's all. I thought that maybe if I stayed with them, it would make things better, but I think it's made it worse. I wish I could just get them out of Morganville. Somehow."

"You can," said a voice from the kitchen doorway. It was - of all people! - Hannah Moses, looking tall, lean, and extremely dangerous in her Morganville police uniform, loaded down with a gun, riot baton, pepper spray, handcuffs, and who knew what else. Hannah was one of those women who would command attention no matter what she was wearing, but when she put on the full display, it was no contest at all. "Mind if I come in?"