LEXIE
Crow appeared at my elbow on Sunday morning with the energy of someone who had been planning something and was very pleased about it, that alone should have been my first warning.
I was behind the bar helping Mia restock the lower shelves, passing bottles up while she arranged them, when he materialised beside me with his hands in his pockets and a casually innocent expression that was doing a lot of work.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," I said, passing up a bottle of something amber.
"So I need a favour."
"What kind of favour."
"Small one," he said. "Pete over at the garage has a part I ordered for the bike. I was going to pick it up this morning but my hands are in the middle of something and I can't really stop." He held up both hands as evidence. They were clean, completely clean,
