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“My music never finishes. It’s always evolving.” I fingered the latch on the case, biting my lip. “I…meant to call you. To thank you for covering my meal.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Because you might’ve murdered my sister.
Heat prickled under my skin. “Well, I don’t have any room in my life for dating. I have different responsibilities than you. I’m just a regular girl trying to make ends meet, you know?”
“Everyone deserves a break.”
I slid the strap over my shoulder. “You think so? Because lately, my breaks involve sorting laundry and playing with trains.”
“Come on,” he purred, stepping closer. “Let me take you out for a drink.”
“I appreciate you comin’ to listen, but my life’s too complicated right now.”
“No expectations. You’ll be home in an hour.”
He was Satan in a Sunday hat. I’d never seen a more beautiful human. Much as I didn’t trust him, he had a face that made it hard to say no. An effective disguise for a predator, and yet my foolish heart skipped a beat. The idea of sitting across from him grew a rock in my throat. I couldn’t share stories and laugh with a man who might’ve killed Elise.
All the more reason to accept. I’d dance with the devil himself if it meant finding the truth.
He offered me his hand.
I smiled and took it. Rough calluses scraped my palm before he clasped my hand in a firm grip, pulling me upright. Tingles skated across my skin as he walked me toward the exit.
Lord, help me. “You have a place in mind?”
He nodded, opening the door for me.
We exited and I fell into step beside him. He led me to a bar a few blocks away. Sunset Tavern was dimly lit. Amber lights cast a warm glow over its patrons. The low hum of talking blended with bluesy notes from a jukebox.
He navigated the crowd with ease. People seemed to give him space, their eyes flickering with apprehension as he brought me to a secluded booth. I got in, sliding the guitar case to the floor. I expected him to take the seat across from me, but he dropped in beside me, trapping me against his body heat.
Up close, it was safe to study him. He was barely older than me. Deceptively soft. Too young and pretty to be doing all the things people said he did, and yet, an ancient weariness sat in his gaze.
“So, you come here often?” I asked.
“It’s a regular spot for me and some associates.”
That word aligned with the unspoken tension choking the air. I glanced at the guarded stances around us, like Achille was a wild animal that could lash out at any second. Talking to him was like walking a tightrope over an abyss. Every instinct screamed to run, but the desperate need for answers anchored my feet.
I turned to him. “This place has a certain vibe.”
“The most honest conversations are in the most dishonest places.”
“Is that why I’m here?”
An untamed mop of dark hair fell onto his cheek. He brushed it away, but it slid down again.
This man stirred me up in all the bad ways. Starting with the heat swooping too low in my belly to my pounding heart.
A waitress approached with two waters. “Hey, Kill. The usual?”
He nodded, and then his eyes raked me.
I swallowed hard. “Gin and tonic, please.”
The waitress disappeared, throwing us into a suffocating silence. A man who went by Kill wasn’t gentle. I knew his type. Sweet and soft, right until he ripped off your clothes. Trapped in this booth, I felt at his mercy. His bold stare seemed to size me up, as though wondering which part of me tasted the best.
