“You’d know, you’ve got three of ‘em,” Poe says, all sly and coy, then she scrunches her nose up at us and shrugs. “Rue’s not going to be interested in some dumb kid. We’re friends. I help him with cars, and he beats up guys who ask me out because he thinks he’s my protector like that. It doesn’t matter.” “What kind of a name is Rue?” Blaise jokes. Poe grins. “The type of name a Prez’s son has. The type a future Prez has. His name is Ruin, but there ain’t a biker out there without a nickname.”
