Frowning, I grab his arm as he tries to slip past me. “Again? That’s every night this week.”
Just letting off steam.
I fall into step beside him, changing my original route. “She’ll call.”
His hands jerk in a brief see-saw motion.Maybe.
“Where’s Jenson? Is he back?”
He points over his shoulder toward the office. Slowing, I watch as he heads toward the ring, people shifting out of his way. He gets a few nods, but nobody speaks to him.
Fucking assholes.
Jenson clearly is in a mood too. His words are short and terse when I rap my fingers against the door. “Fuck off.”
“It’s me.” Ducking inside, I take in the glass in his hands, barely an inch of liquid left. “Hope you saved some for me.”
He doesn’t drink alone in here often. It’s the sign of a bad night. “Kai’s fighting again.”
Jenson takes a deep glug before pouring himself a refill, yanking a second glass to him before sliding it over to me. “Fifteen years today.”
I pause, mentally counting. No wonder he got in the ring last night. “Shit. I didn’t—,”
“We wouldn’t expect you to.” He stares down into his glass. “I went to their grave today. After we left Briar.”
Fuck. No wonder he’s losing himself in a bottle. “I still think you gave her too much, putting them together. She deserved to be tossed into the fucking sea.”
Jenson sighs, and at that moment he looks far older than thirty-three. “It made no difference to me. Besides, I didn’t do it for them.”
“He doesn’t visit her.”
“He might, one day.” Jenson stands, tugging his jacket into place without missing a beat. “And if he does, he’ll have somewhere to go. I’ll watch the floor tonight. Have a night off.”
When I protest, he shakes his head. “I need the distraction. For several reasons.”
I pick up my own drink at that, throwing the last of it back before I stand as well. “You think she won’t call?”
Jenson’s voice filters back to me. For once, there’s no harshness in his tone. Only an old pain that stretches back nearly half our lives.
“I think your Briar Rose would be out of her mind to come anywhere near us.”
Jenson
Every single year.
It’s always a bad night. A reminder. I can hear the roar of the crowd in the next room even over the pounding bass of the music in here. Kai is giving them the show they want, and they have no idea why. What drives him to fight with such wild abandon that you’d think he was fighting for his damn life.
I should pull him out. Force him to take a break. But he’s old enough – more than fucking old enough, now – to make his own choices.
Particularly when he’s had so few of them in the past.
Leaning back against the wall, I cross my arms and stare out across the crowd. It’s busy tonight, the long black marble bar at least five deep with Dove flitting back and forth, four others helping her. Managing Mystic is River’s job, and he does it well – the club a convenient front for some of the darker requirements that crop up in my role as the leader of the Diamonds.
What’s left of us, at least. Even after all these years, we’re still nowhere near the numbers we used to have. It’s a weakness that could be exploited by Alyss and Keenan if they saw past the mask we put on when we need to, but so far they’ve left us alone. More than enough has been happening in their own worlds to stare too closely at ours.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, my thoughts wander elsewhere.
I wonder how Briar Rose is sleeping tonight. We’re well into the witching hour, midnight passing more than an hour ago and dragging me into memories of a past I’d rather fucking forget.
