Knife's Edge

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Are you sure you're okay?" Finn asks for what feels like the millionth time. He watches me as if expecting me to break into a million pieces as I take a seat on the kitchen stool. He heads to the freezer to look for an icepack when he's certain I'm sitting down. "You're not nearly as freaked out as you should be."

"I'm fine," I reply.

Shit happens.

"If you say so," he shrugs, still digging around. "Dammit," he then mutters, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. "We're out of icepacks so these will have to do."

"Thanks," I say when he hands them over, holding them to my forehead and wincing. "How bad is it?"

I couldn't see much in the wing mirror of the car on the way over, it was too dark.

"It doesn't look so bad." He presses his lips together and stares at the peas.

"You're an awful liar," I tell him. "Never play poker."

"So Luke keeps telling me," he rolls his eyes, relaxing a little when he's certain my death isn't imminently approaching.

It's crazy, these guys get the shit kicked out of them on the daily – Bradley had worse injuries than me that night I found him – but Finn looks genuinely worried.

He shouldn't be, I'm a tough cookie. I've survived worse.

The scar, still hiding under my left hand, is proof enough of that.

"So, you took on Donnie Wheatly, huh?" he asks, hopping up onto the stool next to mine.

"Who?" I ask.

He runs a finger up and down his neck and I realise who he means.

"I thought his name was Salazar?"

"Nah," he laughs. "That's just what we call him as a joke."

I stare at him blankly, not understanding the punch line. He raises an eyebrow.

"You know, like in Harry Potter? Salazar Slytherin?"

Oh, right, because of the snake tattoo.

"And here I was thinking you guys only watched slasher films. Who knew you're such Potter nerds at heart?"

He snorts and rolls his eyes.

"Anyway," he returns to the initial comment. "His real name's Donald, goes by Donnie. He's a bit of an ass."

"Only a bit?"

"Well, okay, yeah, a lot of an ass. Hole and all. We kind of have to..." he trails off and tilts his head a little, trying to find the right word. "Co-exist with him. For now, at least."

"Well he seems pretty pissed at you guys."

"Yeah, well," he rolls his eyes, "that's because he thinks we've screwed him over, stolen some money that doesn't belong to us."

"And you didn't take the money?" I guess.

"Oh, no," he says, shaking his head. "We took the money. Little toe-rag thought he could ask for a favour and not cough up the dosh. We only took what he owed. Fair's fair."

I decide not to ask what the favour was and he doesn't offer up any more of an explanation. Instead, I ask for a favour of my own.

"I don't suppose there's a phone charger lying around this place?" I ask, showing him my phone. "I kinda need to charge this."

Stella's probably pulling her hair out by now, it must be well and truly past half eight, and I somehow need to come up with a plausible explanation that doesn't end in me being forced to quit my job.