Page 48 of Twisted Steel

“Where is everyone?”I ask.

“Planning.”

“Murder?”

“Probably.”

“That’s comforting.”I roll my eyes.

Mama M leans against the counter, arms folded.“You scared?”

I cut into a pancake.“Yes.”

“Good.”

I look up.“You people really need new emotional vocabulary.”

“Fear means you’re paying attention.”

“I’m a paramedic.I pay attention professionally.”I point my fork at her to make my point.

“And yet you walked into a shootout.”

“To help.Does no one understand what I do for a living?”

“We understand.But you need to understand that helping and being reckless is the same thing around here.”

I don’t have an answer for that, so I eat.The food is good.Again.I’m starting to suspect Mama M could overthrow governments with breakfast.Halfway through the plate, the front door opens, and Steel steps inside, and the room changes.

It always does when he enters.Air pulls tighter, men straighten without looking like they mean to, and the sound drops half a level.

His eyes find me immediately, and it's damn embarrassing how much that steadies me.

He looks rough.Not tired exactly, men like Steel don’t seem to do tired, but stretched thin around the edges.He is wearing the same leather cut, dark shirt, and heavy boots.The bandage on his hand is fresh, which means someone changed it.

Not me.And let me tell you, I don’t like noticing that.

His gaze drops to my plate.

“I’m eating,” I say before he can start.

“Good.”

“Don’t look so pleased.I did it out of spite.”

“Still counts.”

That one earns me a snort from Mama M.Steel crosses the kitchen and stops across from me.Not close.Never too close unless I let him, and that damn restraint is somehow becoming a weird kind of problem.

“What’s happening?”I ask, and his expression closes.I set my fork down.“Don’t give me the civilian-friendly version.”

“It’s all civilian-unfriendly.”

“Steel.”I fix him with a flat look and wait for him to tell me the truth.

His jaw flexes at my tone.“Reaper is escalating.”

“The man who called?”