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“To me it is.” When she stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, I grin. “I was an accountant before prospecting for the club.”
Skye’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Wait a sec… you were a nerd?”
I chuckle. “I still am. But I’m more badass now.”
“I can’t picture you sitting in an office or wearing a suit and tie.”
“Well, that’s exactly what I was doing until Grim got in touch with me.”
“If you and Grim didn’t start Saints Purgatory, who did?”
“Grim, Soul, and Malice.”
“Why?”
I smile sadly. “Not my story to tell.”
She huffs out a breath, but there’s no frustration in it. It seems more like a wealth of understanding. Skye hasn’t had a bad life, but it’s obvious that it wasn’t always easy.
“Do you ever miss your old life?” she asks, genuine curiosity in her tone.
“Never.” I tilt my head and study her. “Do you like being a bartender?”
Her lips curve into a grin. “I love it.”
“You’re fucking amazing at it.”
“Thanks.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she yawns. “Someday, I’d like to be more involved in running a bar, maybe even own one. But for now, bartending keeps me happy.”
The thought of her leaving to work somewhere else fills my soul with dread. I like Skye… have since the moment I first saw her. For over two years, I’ve kept a wall between us because of my position over her, but I’m beginning to wonder if that was a mistake.
Maybe if I’d actually gotten to know her, I wouldn’t have so easily believed she was a thief.
“You’d be great at that,” I reply grudgingly.
“I think so.”
Her tone doesn’t hold any cockiness. Skye’s just confident, in her element when it comes to anything bar related. Well, anything except the counting money aspect. She opens her mouth to continue but yawns instead.
“You’re tired.”
She nods. “If it’s okay, I think I’ll see if Jez can drive me home.” Her smirk comes slowly. “Unless, of course, you still need to question me.”
I shake my head. “No, no more questions. Not now anyway.”
Skye moves to the edge of the mattress and plants her feet on the floor. “I still have a job, right?” she asks over her shoulder.
“Of course.” When she stands, I grab her arm to stop her from walking away. “I’ll take you home.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m sure Jez won?—”
“I’ll take you,” I repeat. “I want to.”
CHAPTER 18
SKYE
“Give me your keys.”
