She smiles and gestures behind her to the sign I’d forgotten was hanging on the window. “I saw you had a sign about a job. I’m here to apply.”
“No,” I say, turning away before she can argue. I don’t slow down, don’t give her an opening, because I can already tell she’ll take it if I do.
“Why not?” she presses. “You have a help wanted sign in your window…?”
I don’t answer. She shifts her weight and demands in a husky tone, “Answer me.”
I lift an eyebrow and begin walking away. “‘No’ is an answer.”
I make it halfway down the bar before I register that something feels off. I glance up.
Shiloh’s at the far end, for once not working the room. His gaze flickers to the girl standing speechless behind me, then flushes.
“What?” I ask him.
“Reva.” His voice drops. “As I live andbreathe.”
“Shiloh,” the girl replies. “My disappearing dinner and dancing date.”
“Look at that alliteration,” Shiloh flashes back. “Spare me, Yank…you know I didn’t run out on you.”
My gaze bounces back and forth between them. The girl–Reva–crosses her arms over her chest and glances away.
“If I’d have known Noir was your destination,” Shiloh continues, “hell, I’d have saved you the ride and that little pit stop at Murray’s.”
Her lips twist but she doesn’t reply.
Shiloh jerks his chin toward me. “I see you’ve met Ever.”
“Apparently I’m not good enough for a position here. He won’t tell me why.”
What the fuck, Shiloh. I shrug. “Sign’s old.”
I cock my head slightly, jerking my thumb toward the back room, not breaking stride. He pockets the coin he was rolling between his fingers and follows without a word, which tells me everything I need to know before we even get through the door.
I shut it behind us and turn on him.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Shiloh lifts his hands, already halfway into damage control. “I don’t know?—”
“Don’t,” I cut in, stepping closer. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
He exhales hard, scrubbing a hand over his face. “All right, so you remember Cal Boudreaux?”
I nod. I hadn’t heard that name in…maybe five, ten years. “Cal Boudreaux? What the hell does he have to do with the price of tea in China and that girl standing in my bar? Fucking focus, man?—”
“I am, just bear with me! He called Nash a few days ago, asked for a favor. Said his girl was spinning out about her family and some other shit, and asked if we could please find his kid and keep an eye on her.”
The words settle, and a picture forms. I look behind me at the door to the bar, where fifteen feet away Cal Boudreaux’s kid waits at the end of the bar. The flash of recognition when her gaze met Shiloh’s lands, and awareness winds through me.
I roll my tongue over my front teeth, measuring.
“And I take it you found her, andyou fucked her?”
It comes out sharper than I intend, but I don’t take it back.
Shiloh’s head snaps up. “It wasn’t like that.”
