I blink at him. “You don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I believe some things. I believe something happened to you,” he says, his voice low now and humor faded from his expression. “Especially that night at thebar. But I don’t believe the lies you’re expecting us to swallow down.”
I lean closer. “So all this was because you think I’m not trustworthy?”
“Hell, Yank,” he murmurs, “you lay your cards on the table, and I’ll show you mine.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve already shown me that. Seen one, seen ‘em all.”
His mouth curves. “You say it like you aren’t impressed. Like you didn’t come all over my fingers and flood around my cock.”
I lick my lips. He’s just doing it to prove a point. To tilt me off balance.
And it works. Heat flashes through me, sharp and unwelcome.
But I know they didn’t hire me because they liked me, or because I was particularly helpful, or even because Shiloh was hoping for another taste of what we started.
My spidey senses are telling me they hired me because they want to watch what I do next for some reason.
And that’s fine. Because that makes three of us.
Ash,
That sounds like a big ole load of bullshit.
But also, kind of nice.
—Reva
CHAPTER NINE
REVA
If you want to survive,you learn fast. If you want revenge, you learn faster.
My first shift at Noir is a mess, no matter how much mental preparation I did over the last week. Memorizing the layout and routines and procedures. Studying faces. Assuring Shiloh and Ever I’m ready.
None of it matters when the door keeps opening and bodies keep pouring in.
The job isn’t theoretical anymore, an idea I was striving toward. It’s real, and it’s pressure.
I need this job.Maybe it’s not life and death the same way my EMT job was, but keeping it is the pivot point on which everything I want to accomplish either passes or fails.
Ever watches from behind the bar as I balance a tray of empty glasses in one hand, my wrist already aching with the unfamiliar weight and movement. His attention isn’t loud or even obvious. It doesn’t need to be. I can feel it in the gaze that glances over me, pauses, and returns for a moment before continuing.
Someone gets up too fast, knocks into me, and the tray tips.
“Motherf—”
The crash is sharp and immediate, no chance of halting it. Glass tinkling. Plastic bouncing. For a split second the sound seems huge—then the roar of voices swallows it whole.
I fling my arms out, my brain slow to react for a second. “Glass!” I bark, louder than I mean to, palms out. “Don’t step on the glass!”
It takes a second to shift from accident mode to waitstaff mode. I don’t need to worry about injury here, I need to clean this shit up. I need abroom. The brooms are in the supply closet.I saw them. I saw everything. So why can’t I make my body cooperate when it counts?
I can’t even manage to clear a table without fumbling. I blink back the hot sting of tears. I willnotcry. I will not?—
“Oh, sweetie.” Sonny’s maple-syrup voice belies the concern in her eyes when she catchesmy mistake. “You stay right there. I’ll get the dustpan. Make sure nobody steps on the glass.”
