Page 27 of Because of the Dar

He is coming here.

Mags and Kiwiare sitting at the kitchen table with steaming mugs in front of them. I glance around. "Where's Echo?"

"Where do you think?" Mags huffs out a laugh, and I sigh. I don't have it in me to go back to my room and kick her out of my bed. Last night was an exception—a huuuge exception. I love my dog, but she is not allowed in my bed. She rolls around in the dirt whenever she can, no clue if that has anything to do with her breed or if she's simply a major slob, but I'm not having sand, twigs, and dried leaves in my bed.

I grab my favoriteI don't like morningsmug, fill it to the rim with liquid energy, and sit down across from Mags at the table. Taking a sip, I look at her closelyand tilt my head. "Spill it."

Mags's gaze jerks up.

Yeah, bitch, I've learned some tricks from you over the last year.

All the times I had to help her study micro-expressions and body language have started to pay off. Some of the shit stuck with me.

Thankfully, she doesn't try to be evasive or deny it. "I may have given Wes your name." Her admission is so low I have to strain my ears, but I hear it. My jaw drops, and before I can say anything—or lose my shit—she continues. "I didn't realize it until he walked away, and I thought about the conversation again. He tried to hide it, but there was a fraction of a second where he displayed surprise—when I mentioned your name."

Micro-expressions, I'm telling you.

My mind goes blank. I don't know what to do.

"I'm so sorry," Mags whispers, and I peer over at Kiwi.

He sits with a grim expression, both hands wrapped around his mug so tightly one would think he's trying to break it.

"Kiwi." I want him to look at me.

As his eyes find mine, the concern is written all over his face, like the neon billboard where my previous place of work advertised what we offered inside.

As we stare at each other, I search for the right words.

"King?" Mags draws my attention back to her.

I wrinkle my forehead in question. I'm still not happy that she revealed my name to Wes, but that's the least of my worries.

"I'm really sorry."

I know she is, and I'm not mad at her. She is not the whack job with stalkerish tendencies running from her past. I force a smile on my face. "It's fine. It wouldn't have been hard for him to find out anyway—he knows where I work."

"True. But still—"

I wave her off. "Wes is not important at the moment."

"Oh?" Her brows knit. "What else happened?"

"I got a message from my sister."

"Your sister? As in, the bitch who wouldn't come to her own mother's funeral?That sister?" She purses her lips.

"That's the one." Needing to do something and suddenly feeling extremely thirsty, I take a large sip of my coffee before continuing. "She warned me thatheis on his way since I am no longer on the move."

"He?" Mags scowls as she repeats the word slowly. Kiwi and I never use his name because of who he is (you never know who is listening in), and Mags has adapted to our habit. She's the only other person I've confided in about my past and what I did. I wait for it to click. "OMG,he! What is he doing with your sister? How? And why would she tell you? I thought you hadn't spoken to her in, uh…years." She doesn't mention my mother's death, and I appreciate that.

"I have no idea what's going on, Mags." I'm as confused as the rest in this room.

I glance over at Kiwi, and on cue, he says, "Roe-Roe wants to leave."

"What?" Mags's wide eyes ping-pong between us. "Why? Is it so bad that he's coming here? I mean, yes, you shouldn't have stayed, but—"

"He's not the most stable person," Kiwi interjects.

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