Page 1 of Bitter Spirits

Chapter 1

Isa

“I’m hitting the lot now.” Isa’s headlights swept over the gray cement-block wall and the dumpster in front of it. The low-slung building crouched in the shadows of its taller siblings in downtown Phoenix.

“I’m right behind you. Wait for me,” Desmond ordered.

Only the fact that Des was one of her best friends kept her from snapping a sharp rebuke. “Whoever is inside knows the alarm code,” she said with patience and a hint of sarcasm as she put her car in park. “That generally takes murder out of the equation.”

“Not funny, Isa.”

“Lighten up, Des,” she shot back.

It was freaking three thirty in the morning, and instead of being curled up in her extremely comfortable bed after ten hours on her feet, she was back at Wonderland, the bar she co-owned with Des and Cass—her bestie—wondering which employee was holed up inside. Normally, Cass would be the first in line to handle shit like this, but she was in Vegas, dealing with her toxic family. That had left Isa and Des on speed dial when things hit the fan.

Sometimes being a bar owner sucked balls.

She activated the charm in her earring, switching the phone’s audio from her car to her ear. “If we were being robbed, they wouldn’t have bothered with the code.”

“That doesn’t make it safe.” His voice was rough with irritation.

“I’ve got my Taser.” She grabbed it from her cupholder then shoved open the door. “If I solemnly swear to use it, will you chill out?” Isa hip checked her door closed and crossed the cracked-pavement-and-packed-dirt parking lot as Des’s curses filled her ear. “Look, I’ll stay on the phone until you get here.”

He continued to grumble in her ear, but she let the sound wash over her as she kept an eye on her surroundings and crossed to the front entrance lit by an overhead security light.

“Putting you in my pocket,” she warned him before tucking her phone away.

Then, holding the Taser at the ready, she set her other hand against the security ward embedded in the metal door. Magic washed under her palm, flashing from bright orange to pale green. There were no further indications that someone had messed with the security ward, just the snick of the lock releasing.

“Yep.” She kept her voice low. “Definitely had the code.”

She pulled the door open, and the hinges released with a muted squeak. Shadows filled the narrow staircase leading down to the bar, the soft glow of the security lights barely holding them in check. Isa slipped inside and froze just over the threshold as the weight of the door hit her back. She eyed the stairs disappearing into the darkness and regretted her agreement to keep the dim, atmospheric lighting.

Built in the late 1940s, the building had initially been an art gallery that sat below street level as a concession to the desert temperatures. Even though logic promised nothing lurked in the inky depths pooling at the bottom, tension clawed its way up Isa’s spine and sank deep as her pulse ticked up. She drew in a breath, held her Taser at the ready, and inched forward, easing the door closed.

She stopped on the bottom step and strained her ears, trying to catch any noise that didn’t belong. The only thing she heard was the hum of the air conditioner. Cool drafts danced over the exposed pipes curling out of brick walls and wound through the hollow areas surrounding the thick wooden beams before spilling to the shadow-strewn floor. The windowless space was filled with nebulous shapes, but the graffiti-style tags and sigils covering the double metal doors on the back wall glowed softly, offering glimpses of upturned stools on top of scattered pub tables. The arcade side of the open floor was quiet and dark, as the electric machines had been powered down at closing time. Security lights, installed under the booths lining the wall, offered some relief to the gloom, their illumination reflected in the long mirror behind the bar.

“Talk to me!” Des barked in her ear, startling her.

She’d forgotten he was on the other end. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s here.”

“I’m turning in now.”

“Cool.” Reassured, she started across the floor, her goal the door behind the bar that led to the office and compact kitchen. “I’m going to check out the back.”

Isa rounded the end of the bar and flipped the pass-through, while in her ear, Des muttered to himself as he parked. She moved into the back as the clunk of his car door closing was followed by the rapid crunch of footsteps. A light burned bright over the stove in the kitchen, but the space was empty of life. She got to the office and had her hand on the knob when she heard movement.

“Shit.”

“What?” Des demanded as a familiar squeak indicated he’d hit the entrance door.

“Someone is in the office.”

“Do not go in, Isa.”

Ignoring him, she tightened her grip on the doorknob, held a finger over the Taser’s trigger, and threw open the door. A sharp scream greeted her, along with the clatter of something bouncing off the desk, the dull thud of a chair hitting the floor, and a rush of movement. In that fraction of time, recognition flashed, and somehow, she managed not to launch the Taser.

“Don’t shoot! It’s me!” someone sobbed.