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ngling with the real deal.
The appeal of the bar was that real supernaturals did frequent it. The upper floor was a bar entirely for those of the bump-in-the-night persuasion, from vampires and werewolves to the wide variety of fae and everything they encompassed. It was quite a mix.
Of course right now it was completely empty.
Even the usual bouncer, Jimmy, wasn’t at his post outside the front door.
I sipped my lukewarm coffee and eyed the place, wondering if this was really the right move. As much as I wanted to avoid owing Santiago any more favors, I didn’t particularly want to owe Cain any either. Lose-lose-lose was how this whole situation was shaping up.
I was sort of hoping Cain might offer me some insight free of charge, especially since it was his fault I was out there digging Mercy up in the first place.
I doubted he’d see the correlation.
Wilder had wanted to join me on this foray, but I’d asked him to stay at home. Cain wasn’t going to hurt me, and Wilder’s testosterone could sometimes get in the way of smoothly accomplishing things. He had a bad habit of wanting to defend my honor when Cain made light of my position, and it would only slow things down here today.
If Beau Cain wanted to make smirking remarks about my lineage, let him. As long as those biting quips came alongside real answers.
I was a big girl. I didn’t need my boyfriend defending me because someone said mean things about me being a princess.
Hell, wasn’t Wilder the one who used it to poke fun at me when we first met, and still used it even now as a pet name? Pot meet kettle.
I pushed open the unlocked door of the bar and found the main level completely deserted. I’d expected some of Cain’s usual security team to be present, and looked for his bodyguard, Lola, at the base of the stairs, but she wasn’t there either.
As far as I could tell, I was the only one in the building.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t being watched. I’d have been shocked to learn there wasn’t someone on the other end of a security camera watching my every move. No, it was far more likely that I’d just been here enough in the last year that none of Cain’s staff considered me a threat anymore.
I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or insulted.
I decided I would just be grateful it meant I now got to avoid all the pomp and circumstance of begging for an audience with Cain every time I showed up.
Making my way up the narrow staircase to the second floor, the soft sounds of jazz floated down to greet me. The upper level, usually dim and full of secret spaces, had the curtains open, letting in pale morning sunshine, and completely changing the whole area. It looked as if it could be a cozy little coffee shop now, the hardwood floor shining a warm brown and faint dust motes swimming in the still air.
The man I was after was standing behind the big bar along the back wall, leaning against the service counter. There was a newspaper unfolded in front of him and cup of fresh coffee by his elbow, steam rising from it even now, as if he’d just poured it.
“Good morning, Eugenia,” he said, without lifting his eyes.
Either he was psychic or there was a monitor behind that counter somewhere. Neither would surprise me.
Really, nothing about Cain would surprise me.
Except maybe finding out he had, like, a My Little Pony collection or something. That might make me scratch my head a bit.
I walked up to the bar and seated myself on one of the high stools, which kept us eye to eye. He continued to read the newspaper as if I wasn’t there, flipping slowing through the pages. Over the speakers, the jazz continued to play. Something with piano. Monk or maybe Peterson. I wasn’t ever very good at distinguishing the difference, no matter how hard my ex-boyfriend Cash had tried to educate me. I liked it, but if you paid me a million bucks I wouldn’t know the name of the pianist or the song.
“I can’t help but notice you’re carrying a coffee and not a human skull,” he said. “I don’t supposed that purse of yours is big enough to fit a head inside.”
“Fresh out of heads here, sorry.”
I put my coffee down on his newspaper.
He looked up at me then, his cool, pale eyes appraising me. Cain was a big man. Like linebacker big. And even though his hair was graying and there were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, he didn’t look any less intimidating than I imagine he must have in his twenties.
For a long time, I had been very, very afraid of him.
Now I met his gaze with a level stare of my own.
“We had an agreement, Miss McQueen.” He lifted up my paper cup and set it to the side, then folded the paper shut. He was doing his best impression of someone that didn’t have a care in the world, but I knew him better than that by now.
