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I turned away from the kitchen sink where I’d been scrubbing the same plate while I chewed on my thoughts.
Grifin leaned against the granite-topped island, wearing a congenial expression. The muscular man with fire-engine-red hair and a crooked nose had been my near-constant shadow since Raphael had gone off to parts unknown.
“Aye,” I replied. “Let me grab my coat and I’ll meet you in the foyer.”
I wiped my hands on a dish towel and smiled to myself when I noted their steadiness. It’d been almost a week since I’d ingested enough vodka to make a Russian blush—something I blamed on necessity and the result of Katarina’s sketchy ethics. Until then, I’d been clean since the day Tiernan died. I’d made it ninety-seven days to be exact. My longest sober streak since I was fourteen years old.
You’ll make it longer this time. You’ll make it forever.
Warmth spread through my chest and fluttered into every cell of my body. But just as I was about to embrace the natural high, reality swatted it aside.
It wouldn’t matter if I never tasted a drop of alcohol or swallowed a pill again. A normal, healthy life would never be an option for me. I’d never experience the butterflies that came with a first date, falling in love, or any of life’s other moments that most took for granted. The unconditional love and acceptance that came with being part of a family would forever be elusive to me. The possibility of a happily ever after had been ripped from me by the same cruel hands that had killed my parents.
As it turned out, the stark truth of my existence had the most sobering effect of all.
Grifin and I drove to The Ruby Slipper in companionable silence. I’d never been inside, but when I was around eight years old, my mother told me it was where she’d met my da once upon a time. My mother never tried to deny or gloss over her past. Before she was murdered, Valentina Clarke had been a proud addict in recovery with a collection of circular coins that she dug out whenever she was having a bad day. She would force herself to pray and reflect until she’d seen it through to the other side. The side where hope sprang eternal.
I held on to that uplifting thought as Grifin held open the door and I took my first step inside the Flynns’ provocative stomping grounds. We entered the place relatively unnoticed aside from the bouncer who fist-bumped Grifin before he nodded at me. Then, a lovely girl who couldn’t have been much older than me introduced herself as Piper and took our coats. She wore something that Raphael had probably picked out based on its lack of coverage and one-star rating for comfort.
We followed Piper deeper into the extravagant gentleman’s club decorated in opulent red velvet and dark wood. Everything about it was resolutely masculine, right down to the distressed leather furnishings and lighting. Tasteful artwork in heavy oak frames and sleek speakers covered the walls. A striking balance of traditional and modern.
Piper motioned to the expansive black granite bar that wrapped halfway around the room. “Have a seat. Brian will be over to take your drink order in a minute. Hannah’s been expecting you. She’ll be out soon—she’s just finishing up something with Lucifer in his office.”
I suddenly felt very hot and very itchy under my clothing.
I looked at Piper. The same kind smile she’d worn when she’d introduced herself stared back at me.
“You okay, Ms. Brennan?”
“Willa.” I snapped at Grifin. “It’s Willa.”
He looked like he was about to piss his pants, and I immediately felt like a jerk.
An irrational, jealous jerk.
My possessiveness over one very unavailable-to-me gangster was growing at an alarming rate. But he’d almost killed Cillian with his fists for making me fall. A bit mad? Definitely. Hot? Most definitely. Lucifer with all his bad-boy sexiness could make a corpse blush.
Ugh. What was wrong with me? Did I think Lucifer and I could be ... a thing? Like that could ever happen.
Any connection we had came with an expiration date. I’d known it all along, I’d just buried that depressing detail beneath all the other examples of what I couldn’t outrun if I tried. Whatever existed between Lucifer and me was living on borrowed time.
My heart grew heavy as I pondered that thought.
“Sorry, Grifin. Can you find Brian? I think I need a drink. Black Label, on the rocks, with a splash of water.”
Grifin rapped his knuckles on the bar top. “On it, Willa,” he said with a friendly wink.
A hollow laugh escaped me, and the pause in my melancholic thoughts gave the better parts of myself a chance to catch up.
I raised my hand. “Wait. Hold up, G.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I cringed. Later, I’d have to explain to my guard why ma’am wasn’t any better than Ms. Brennan. For now, I replied, “Make it a water with lots of ice and a lemon.”
Satisfied with my responsible choice, I pressed my palms on the bar and assessed my desperate need for a manicure while I waited for Grifin to return with my nonalcoholic beverage. I would have walked outside and licked the dumpster, if necessary. Anything—bloody anything—to keep me from thinking about what Lucifer was doing with Hannah is his office right now.
My forehead dropped to the bar top with a hard thump.
