“I do. I’m very lucky and have a big audience on social media.”
I stare at her, completely impressed by her ability to turn her love from a hobby into a career.
“I could use a new piece in this bar. I’ve been staring at the same big-box-store artwork pieces for the last decade. We need a refresh. Are you game?” Malakai asks her.
A growl escapes my throat, but no one else can hear it over Iris’s reply of “Sure.”
“We’ll talk price another day, but now, we do a shot to conclude our business.”
Iris slides her eyes to me, wanting help with the drinking after she just agreed to create pieces for a mobster. It doesn’t matter what type of business you agree to. None of it is good when it comes from this lawless world.
“Can you handle one?” I ask her, knowing there will be blowback if we reject the shot. Men like Malakai have ways they like to do things, and any change in their script could throw everything off in an instant.
“One should be okay,” she says with a slight shrug of her shoulder. “Maybe I should stay with you tonight so I don’t wind up wandering around on the streets.”
Suddenly, this is turning into a win-win for me. I wanted her to stay the night. Last night was a bust because we were both in a panic over the possibility of someone coming after her. The night didn’t end the way either of us had planned. But this gives me an opening to make what should’ve happened last night become reality.
“That’s a good idea,” I tell her.
I could kiss Malakai for making a shot a requirement to end our business.
Four shot glasses filled with amber liquid, which I assume is whiskey, are placed in the middle of the table by a waitress who doesn’t bother speaking to anyone. Malakai pushes three of them our way before he grabs the last one for himself.
“A toast,” he says, lifting his hand.
My grandpa raises his glass before Iris and I do the same.
Malakai smiles, looking like a normal old maninstead of the criminal we all know he is. “May you be in heaven a full half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead.”
Iris and I look at each other when my grandfather says, “Cin cin,” as he tips his head at Malakai.
“Sláinte,” Malakai replies before he brings the glass to his lips and downs the liquid in one gulp.
“Well,” I say to Iris, tapping her glass with mine. “To another day.”
“Another day,” she says, watching me as I swallow the alcohol.
Iris winces, and as soon as she inhales, she starts to cough. “That…was…rough,” she barely gets out while she tries to clear her throat as I take the glass from her hand.
I’ve been in her shoes, choking on a liquor I hadn’t quite been prepared for, and it sucks.
“We good?” Gramps asks Malakai.
Malakai gives him a chin lift. “We’re good.” But before we have a chance to stand, Malakai turns his gaze on Iris. “You want to make a little extra cash?”
“Um,” she says as I turn my body toward her, wishing I could telepathically communicate with her.
There isn’t a job or favor on this planet Malakai would want her to do that’s worth any amount of money he wants to pay her to do.
Her eyes slide to mine, and I do my best to give her the hell-no face, even if we don’t know each otherwell enough for her to be able to read all my facial expressions.
“Um,” she mumbles.
“I’ll give you fifty thousand if you talk to Lucas and find out where that weasel’s hiding.”
Fifty thousand is a lot of freaking money, but she has to know, if she does it, it’ll be the last place Lucas will ever take a breath of air.
“While I appreciate the offer, I can’t. I won’t. I refuse to talk to him, even for that sum of money.”
