Page 70 of Sunny Undone

When I’m done, I look to the guy standing there. He raises his hand to speak, like this is fucking class or something. “What?” I bark.

“I didn’t expect someone like you to walk in,” he says. “In fairness, you had a gun pointed at me, and you look like…well…that.”

I glance down at myself.

Black leather cut.

Jeans.

Boots.

Gun.

Out of context, in a place like this, I probably do look intimidating. “Fair enough,” I say, and tuck my gun away. “We’re friends, not foes.”

Della steps around me. “Sunny, this is Evan. Evan, this is Sunny.”

He gives a smile that doesn’t quite make it to his eyes. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Della.”

“Maybe it’s because my extra-curricular activities aren’t really any of your business,” Della says.

I have to bite back a grin at the snappiness of the response, but I lean close to Della and whisper, “Kinda like being called your boyfriend, Indy.”

“Sorry,” Evan says as he crouches to gather the tray of shit he tossed. But as he bends, his cellphone slips out of his lab coat pocket. It’s in a thick case made of rubber, but the screen has a couple of cracks. “Shit, happens all the time,” he mutters.

I take it and hand it back to him. “If it happens all the time, maybe you should find a better place for it or stitch a button on that pocket.”

He sniffs at that. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

I crouch to help, seeing as I was legitimately part of the problem. When I reach for one of the glass tube things, I notice Evan is staring at my hands. Not sure what bothers him most. I got big hands with some big-ass rings that can do serious damage on cheekbones and ribs. And I’m running out of room for ink. My tattoos run up my fingers; even got one on my right palm.

It says, Everything has a cost.

So, when I offer my hand forward to make a deal with anyone, it’s a reminder that nothing comes for free.

But Evan’s expression is clear. I’ve spent enough years reading people who planned to stab me in the back to know the difference between fear and resentment. And any fear Evan had disappeared once he saw Della and realized the immediate danger had passed.

Resentment has a tendency to stick around and fester. It’s the why he has it that I can’t figure out, yet. Is it small reasons? Like, he thought he’d have the lab to himself tonight and is mad we appeared. Or is he jealous that Della arrived with me? Does lab boy like my girl?

“You work this late often?” I ask him, trying to figure it out.

He shakes his head and stands with the tray. “Not usually.”

I look around to see Della has already forgotten about the two of us and is standing in front of one of the freezers, frowning.

“No,” she says quietly, then tugs the door open and puts her hand inside. “No.”

The second no is quieter. More desperate. I’ve heard that tone a time or two after club raids. Once one of us realizes they’ve taken something crucial.

“What are you looking for?” Evan asks.

“Last month’s samples,” she says, tugging open door after door. “Did you move them around?”

He shakes his head. “You moved those before you left.”

Della tugs her hands through her hair. “No. I didn’t. I catalogued them and reviewed what the samples looked like at their one-month check-in.”

“Fill in the gaps for me, Indy. What’s the implication of what you’re saying?”