Smith raises a brow, making a show of looking at the pocket where I put the cash. “That looks like more than just ‘good’.”
I shrug. “If you have to know, I was at the Consortium earlier. It’s an advance from Yardley.”
Smith raises a brow. He places his arm on the bar top, resting his chin in his hand. “Interesting. Want to tell me what it’s from?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
A high-pitched laugh comes from the other side of the bar, and I turn. A pack of seven Weres, male and female, are crowded around a booth on the other side of the bar. They’re laughing over a FaePhone, their eyes lighting up as their chatter grows louder.
One of them looks up and catches my eye. A languid smile spreads across her lips, and I see a question flit across her expression. I blink. I know her—knewher. We’d met in this same bar. I remember quick, rough touches. Fleeting, meaningless kisses. Her apartment is on the next block.
But now, as I look at her, I feel nothing. Exhausted, I shake my head. She turns her back on me. A mix of relief and self-loathing vibrates my chest.
At this point, I’ve given up. I’ve done what I needed, and now I’m just waiting.
The Angel turns around and places the shot I ordered before me. Nodding, I grab it and toss it down my throat. True to its name, the alcohol burns as it runs through me.
“Another,” I demand. The Angel complies.
By the third shot of Liquid Fire, my head is foggy. I lift my hands in the air, and the feeling is similar to wading through water.
A vision of bright pink eyes appears before me, and I groan. Rubbing my temples, I slam the empty shot glass down.
“Barkeep,” I yell, beckoning the Angel back over. “Something stronger.”
A hand lands on my arm. “Maybe you should slow down, Erik,” Smith says. His voice is laced with concern, and I bristle.
Clenching my jaw, I shake his hand off me. “You’re not my babysitter, Smith. In fact, as I recall, you’re nothing more than just a washed-up pirate who makes a living selling black-market goods in Lethe because he couldn’t make it on the sea.”
Smith lurches back, his brows furrowing as he clenches his fists at his side. He makes a face. “What the hell, man?”
“I’m just calling it like I see it,” I say. The watery sensation is getting heavier by the moment.
A vein pops in his jaw as he watches me with narrowed eyes. “I thought we were friends.”
“Nothing good comes from being friends with me,” I say. My voice is low as I groan. “I used to think women were bad luck on boats, but you know what?”
He shakes his head.
“I was wrong. It’s me. I’m the bad luck. Ir-ir-irredeemable.” I slur, pushing away from the bar. Slapping a few bills on the table, I stumble before pulling myself upright. “Do yourself a favor, market-boy, and forget you ever met me.”
“Fu—”
The bell at the front of the bar chimes, and Smith’s voice drops off into thin air as all the blood drains from his face. My back stiffens, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
Just like that, I’m stone-cold sober.
All sound floats away, except the faint melody ofThought You Were the Fae for MebyTheWereRaiders.The music is completely at odds with the tension thickening the air.
My shoulders tighten, and I reach into the waistband of my pants. The cold metal of my weapon is reassuring.
Turning around, my eyes widen as I take in the three large, gray-skinned males with seaweed green hair who are standing in the doorway of The Midnight River. Their blue, pupil-less eyes are steely, their jaws firm, as they scan the seedy establishment. Their hands are empty, but a quick glance at the black leather they’re wearing tells me they’re each armed with multiple weapons.
“Shit.” My jaw strains while I watch the Angel. His hand slips under the bar, his muscles tensing for a moment before he steps back. The faint gleam of a red, blinking light comes from under the counter. “Dammit.”
Curses continue to slip out of my lips as my mind jumps ahead of me. I’m calculating my chances of getting to the back of the bar before these thugs decide that everyone in here is better off dead.
It would probably take me fifteen seconds to get out of here. But the way the largest male is eyeing me tells me exactly how low my chances would be of making it.