“What now?”Jake asked softly.
Jenna looked at the woman weeping over Wendell’s body.Her twin.A stranger.Both at once.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.“I really don’t know.”
CHAPTER ONE
Derek Sullivan squinted at Aaron Hopper through the amber haze of the Centaur’s Den, the overhead lights swimming and multiplying before his eyes.The bar’s shiny surfaces had begun to tilt and sway hours ago, but Derek still had enough motor control to jab a finger toward his empty glass.One more.That’s all he needed.One more to blur the edges of a day best forgotten.
“Another,” he demanded, his voice rough from cigarettes and hours of drinking.“Double.Straight.”
Aaron wiped his meaty hands on a bar towel, his expression hardening into the familiar mask Derek had seen directed at countless other drunks.Never at him though.Not until tonight.
“Last call was fifteen minutes ago, Derek.You heard me announce it.”Aaron’s voice floated toward him as if traveling through water, words rippling and distorting.“I already shut down the register.”
Derek fumbled in his pocket, extracted a crumpled twenty, and slapped it on the counter.It missed the puddle of condensation by mere inches.“There.Cash.Legal tender.No register needed.”
The bar had emptied around him without his noticing, the usual weeknight crowd thinned to just two other patrons gathering their belongings in the far corner.Derek’s internal clock had stopped functioning around his fifth drink.Or was it his sixth?The night had dissolved into disconnected moments.
“You’ve had enough,” Aaron said, not touching the twenty.“Time to go home.”
“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.”Derek leaned forward, intending to look menacing.The movement sent the room spinning and he gripped the edge of the bar to steady himself.“Been coming here for years.Since before you owned the place.”
Aaron sighed, his massive shoulders rising and falling beneath his tight black t-shirt.Years as a bouncer before buying the Centaur’s Den had given him both the build and the patience to deal with difficult customers.He’d ejected men larger than Derek without breaking a sweat.
“And I appreciate your business,” Aaron said, his tone deceptively calm.“But it’s closing time, and you’re well past your limit.”
Derek’s sluggish brain registered the warning, but alcohol had dissolved his self-preservation instincts.He reached across the bar, intending to grab a bottle himself, but his coordination failed him.His hand knocked against a row of glasses, sending two toppling with a brittle crash.
“Goddammit, Derek!”Aaron moved faster than a man his size should be able to, snatching Derek’s wrist in a vise-like grip.“That’s it.We’re done.”
“Lemme go.”Derek tried to pull away, but his strength was no match for Aaron’s, especially not with a liver full of whiskey dampening his reflexes.“You can’t—”
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”Aaron’s voice dropped lower, a rumbling warning Derek felt more than heard.“Your choice.”
Something in Derek’s alcohol-soaked brain registered danger, but pride overrode caution.He yanked his arm back and swung wildly, his fist connecting with nothing but air.The momentum sent him staggering backward, knocking over his barstool with a clatter that echoed in the near-empty bar.
Aaron rounded the counter with the fluid movement of someone who’d done this too many times before.He gripped Derek by the collar and the belt in one smooth motion, lifting him half off his feet.
“Hard way it is,” Aaron muttered.
Derek’s protests dissolved into incoherent curses as Aaron propelled him toward the exit.His feet barely touched the sticky floorboards, the room a blur of motion and light.He flailed, landing a glancing blow against Aaron’s shoulder that the larger man didn’t even seem to notice.
“You can’t do this!”Derek yelled, his words slurring together.“I’m a paying customer!”
“Not anymore,” Aaron replied, shouldering open the heavy door to the parking lot.“Good thing you’re walking, or I’d have to the cops to pick you up.”
The September night air hit Derek’s face like a slap, cold enough to momentarily clear his head but not enough to sober him.
With a final heave, Aaron sent Derek stumbling into the gravel lot.Derek’s ankle twisted beneath him, and he landed hard on his hands and knees, tiny stones biting into his palms.
“Don’t come back until you’ve dried out,” Aaron said from the doorway.“And Derek?Next time you feel like taking a swing at me, remember I’ve been throwing out drunks since you were in high school.”
The door slammed shut, leaving Derek alone in the dim glow of the parking lot’s single security light.He pushed himself to his feet, swaying dangerously, his dignity wounded more than his body.Blood and tiny pebbles clung to his scraped palms.He wiped them roughly against his jeans and tried to orient himself.
The Centaur’s Den sat at the edge of town, a low-slung building with a neon sign that now flickered off as Aaron shut down for the night.Across the nearly empty parking lot, the main road stretched in both directions—right toward the newer parts of town, left toward the old neighborhood where Derek’s apartment waited, dark and empty.
Left it was.
