Page 23 of Rule the Night (Blackwell Butchers #1)

brAM

It was after ten p.m. when the files from Aloha finally landed in my encrypted inbox. I skimmed them, then took my laptop downstairs.

I tried not to think about the new girl — Maeve — sleeping in her room next to mine. At least, that was what I assumed she was doing. I hadn’t seen her since she’d come home with Poe, which was just as well. We brought the girls from the Hunts to cook, not to make conversation.

“Files come in?” Poe asked, pausing over the clay he was working on a silicone mat on the dining room table.

Remy was on the sofa reading, as always.

“Just now.” I took a seat at the table and opened my laptop.

Remy put down his book and crossed the room, then leaned over to look at my computer.

I glared up at him. “Do you mind?”

“Just curious about the new girl.”

“Maeve,” Poe said. “Her name is Maeve.”

“I know,” Remy said good-naturedly.

Remy never took anything personally. Must be nice.

Poe put down the clay and wiped his hands on a wet towel next to the mat.

Remy glanced at the piece of clay. “You going to start work on that one soon?”

“I don’t know,” Poe said.

Poe didn’t like to talk about his work.

“Is she still asleep?” I asked.

Remy shrugged. “I assume so. I took her a wrap and some bone broth around six and she took the tray and slammed the door in my face. Haven’t seen her since.”

“A wrap and bone broth?” I shook my head. “No wonder she didn’t let you in. Who the fuck wants a wrap and some bone broth after pulling an all-nighter in the tunnels?”

Remy shrugged. “I figured she needed some protein after all that running.”

“Should have brought her a cheeseburger,” Poe said. “Maybe she wouldn’t have slammed the door in your face.”

“You’re hilarious.” Remy grabbed a peach off the bowl in the center of the table and took a bite, then sat next to me. “So? What’s the word?”

I looked at the first page of the file sent over by Aloha. “Maeve Haver, twenty-two. Parents still married, mom’s a professor at the community college, dad’s a… pastry chef?”

“Wow, our Maeve is a normie,” Remy said.

“A pastry chef?” Poe sounded as incredulous as I felt.

Who in the fuck was a pastry chef in real life?

“That’s what it says. Works at Oak & Reed.”

Remy whistled. “That place is fancy. My mom and dad go there for their anniversary every year.”

“Siblings?” Poe asked. “Boyfriend?”

I’d wondered the same thing.

“One long-term boyfriend, in high school.” Aloha was good. “Two siblings. No… three. Or there were three. Her older sister died. Murdered by her live-in boyfriend.”

Remy froze. “Are you serious?”

“That’s what it says.”

“Wait… I think I remember hearing about this,” Poe said. “Was the sister’s name Julie? Julia?”

“June,” I murmured. “June Haver.”

“I guess now we know why Maeve was in the tunnels,” Remy said.

“Don’t be so sure,” I said, reading. “The sister’s boyfriend is already in prison.”

“That’s weird,” Poe said.

He wasn’t wrong. If the guy who’d murdered Maeve’s sister was in prison, who had she wanted us to kill?

I shut down that train of thought fast. It didn’t matter. The girls from the Hunt were here to serve. We kept them for three months and then sent them on their way.

No harm, no foul, no attachment.

“It’s none of our business.” I returned my attention to the file. “She has two younger siblings, Simon and Olivia, and graduated with an associates degree in culinary arts. Works at a store called Lushberry in the mall in Carlton.”

“But she studied to be a chef,” Poe said. “We hit the jackpot.”

“Why is she working at a clothing store when she has a degree in culinary arts?” Remy asked.

“Again, none of our business.” We did background on the girls who came to live with us as a security protocol. Our world was small, contained. Letting someone in was a big deal. We kept the girls at arm’s length, but they were still in the loft for three months.

We needed to know what we’d be dealing with.

“Just curious,” Remy said.

“Don’t be.”

“Anything we need to worry about?” Poe asked.

“Not unless you count the gun she registered a little over a year ago,” I said.

“Should we take it while she’s here?” Remy asked.

I leaned back in my chair, thought about it. Maeve Haver would put up a fight if we tried to take her gun — she’d proven that at the Hunt — but that wasn’t reason enough not to take it.

She was in our kingdom now. She would do what we ordered her to do.

But letting her keep the gun would be more interesting, and despite every instinct, I couldn’t help being interested in the dark-haired girl who’d tried to bring a gun into the Hunt.

What was her story? How did a normie like her end up at the Hunt? And if her sister’s murderer was doing a twenty-year stint in the clink, who did she want dead?