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“Did you tell him?” asked Saint when I pulled up a seat next to him in the pub.
I shook my head. “I haven’t made my final decision yet.”
“Yes, you have, you liar.”
Saint was right. Keon had been visited by all of the Invincibles’ partners at least once during his hospital stay, but Decker had come more than the other two.
During his last visit, he’d approached me with an offer to join up with their firm. Initially, my answer had been a resounding no. However, after I realized my brother was in on it, I agreed to reconsider.
Keon asking wasn’t my only reason, as I’m sure they knew. If I were to partner with them, it would also allow me to spend a great deal more time in the States.
“You’ll never believe who I saw the other day,” Saint said, motioning to the barmaid to pour me a pint.
“Who?”
“Angel.”
“How is she?”
Saint shook his head. “Same as always. Smarter, funnier, prettier than me, and still able to drink me under the table.”
I laughed. “She is all those things. Deadlier too.”
“She and I got to talking about a certain helicopter ride the two of you shared.”
“Yeah?”
“She told me she still regretted telling you what I confessed to her on one of those nights I crashed beneath a pub table.”
I took a long, slow drink, silently warning my friend that this was not a conversation he wanted to start.
“Look, you have to admit, the woman is beguiling.”
“Tread carefully, Saint. In fact, a change in subject would be your smartest tack.”
He shook his head and looked down at the bar. “I meant it. At the time anyway.”
I slammed my now-empty pint on the bar. “Do you have a bloody death wish?”
Saint motioned to the barmaid, who poured each of us another. “Bring us two shots of Irish too, would you?”
When she delivered the shots, Saint looked into my eyes. “Go see her, Lynx.”
I downed the whiskey and emptied my pint before I responded. “We both knew what it was, and that was temporary.”
“I have reason to believe you might be wrong, at least on Charlie’s—err, Emerson’s—part.”
I grabbed Saint by the neck and slammed him up against the wall. “This is not a game,” I seethed. “You dare to speak to me of the woman I…”
He held up both hands.
When I let go, he straightened his jacket and sat down as if nothing had happened, not even a single hair was out of place on the bastard’s head.
“What, Lynx? The woman you, what?”
I watched as he signaled the barmaid again, on the verge of slamming him up against the wall a second time.
“Start talking, Saint, while you’re still able.”
