I’d lost her. I could tell by the glazed expression in her eyes. She was probably daydreaming about lamb chops.

“Okay.” I motioned for the door. “Get your temper in check. Decide you want to be a manager again, and come back in a week. We’ll talk again.”

Her lips pressed together. She seemed to want to argue, but instead she pushed herself up with a small growl and stormed from the room.

Brandon appeared in the opened door. “You suspended her?”

I raked a hand over my face. “I swear. Even my lungs are exhausted.” I frowned, sighing. “You know I had to.”

He nodded. “You want me to call Katrina?”

“I’ll call her. And if Cruz asks, he still gets the weekend off. He’s been covering for Suki. He’s part of the problem.”

“I know.” Brandon rested a hand against the doorframe. “He was trying to be helpful.”

I knew that too, but while Katrina might be able to help us in a pinch, that didn’t mean we wouldn’t need a new manager in the near future.

“You can always ask Moose to help,” Brandon added. “He’s done it before.”

“No.”

Moose was one of Channing’s managers at his bar, but I didn’t want to go there. We’d really been trying to keep our relationship just our relationship. Him and me.

I was okay with the high school crews returning, as long as there was no violence and they kept spending money. But if Moose helped out, members of their crew would start hanging out, and that would change things.

Adult crews were in a different league, a dangerous league.

“We’ll try Katrina first and figure something else out before we have to bring Moose in.”

I reached for the phone.

“Okay.” Brandon nodded. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

He closed the door.

And holy shit, I really wanted a smoke now.

22

Channing

My phone buzzed on my desk.

Heather: Have to close tonight. Suspended Suki.

Well, shit.

Me: I’ll come there when I’m done.

It was a quick response.

Heather: TY

Friday night at my bar was busy. Our regulars usually came during the day and on weekday evenings, but the weekends were a different matter. Or they had been lately. A lot of younger customers were starting to travel over from nearby colleges.

We’d moved the karaoke night to Fridays, which meant it was nuts out there.

Scratch was in heaven, but I didn’t understand his and Heather’s addiction to chaos.

I liked disappearing to the warehouse with my crew, my girl in my arms, my sister and her crew with us, and a good whiskey next to me. That’s what made me content.

Though all the customers out there meant money. That was always a damn good thing.

Since it was close to midnight, I could head out. Grabbing my stuff, I locked the office behind me and started through the crowd. There were a few skinny chicks in the hallway. Their eyes got big when they saw me. One leaned toward me while her friends started talking to each other, their heads ducked down, but still watching.

I gave them a small wave, but kept going.

A few guys called out greetings as I headed to the bar.

People stepped back, parting for me as I went. Once or twice, someone drunk stumbled into me. Their friends hissed, but I just steered ’em back. It was a bar. People were going to be drunk. That was the purpose.

All my guys were busy behind the bar, and so was Scratch as he filled orders for the servers. We didn’t always use the girls, but it had become more of a regular thing on the weekends. I stepped to the side as one filled her tray with beer bottles.

Scratch saw me and raised a hand. “You heading out?” he shouted.

They couldn’t hear, not with the music blaring, but every one of my guys glanced over. I nodded to each to confirm that they were doing what I wanted: working at Tuesday Tits. I didn’t need them for anything else.

I raised my voice to my cousin, “You need me to stay?”

He shook his head, scanning the bar. “We’re staffed tonight. We should be fine. You off to see Heather?”

I nodded. “I can stay, for real.”

“Nah. I’m good.” He motioned for the door. “Go be with your woman. We got it.”

“Call if you need anything.”

I turned for the door as Moose called my name. He ducked out from behind the bar, but stopped and said something to Scratch. My cousin nodded and Moose motioned he’d follow me out. We weaved around the waitresses.

The two bouncers outside the door dipped their heads to me.

“’Night, boss.”

“Have a good one, boss.”

“Night, guys.”

Moose went with me as I started up the block.

I frowned. “What’s going on?”

He looked up and down the street, which was empty, before taking out his phone. He handed it over.

“I meant to let you know before, but we got slammed at the bar. Traverse texted.”

I looked at the screen.

Traverse: Soon.

“Demons haven’t been in town since you tangled with Richter,” he added. “I know we struck a deal with Traverse—we help him take control of the Demons, and they steer clear of Fallen Crest—but I don’t feel good about this.”

It’d been a little over a month since the fight went down, but I hadn’t been concerned. Traverse checked in once a week with me, just sending a quick text. He was supposed to let us know when he needed us.

I gave Moose the phone back. “You think he’s planning something else?”

“I don’t know.” He frowned, rubbing a hand over his bald head. “Chad said his aunt had a vision about us.”

“I thought it was his mom in the nursing home?”

“It is. This is his aunt, through his daddy’s side. The gypsy one. Ginger.”

Of course. “What’d she see?”

“That we were double-crossed.”

“She said it in those terms?”

Moose looked up. “No. She said she saw a horse being ridden backwards with red paint dripping down its back, a knife in its rear haunch. But according to Chad, that means we’re going to be up shit creek. What if something happened to Traverse? What if while we’re waiting for them to call for help, we’re actually giving them all this time to get more backup here. That could happen. Richter’s a snake.” He shifted, his hand scratching at his chest. “And, I mean, you know.” He looked away, but I still heard him. “Chad’s aunt’s been right before.”

Right.

“When she said a feather was flying away, we don’t actually know that meant my dad was going to prison,” I reminded him. “That particular asshole’s never been called a feather before.”

“I know, but she said it had ‘father’ vibes to it.” He dropped his fingers for the quotation marks and cleared his throat. “You get my drift.”

I stared at him. Then I stared at him again. Hard. Because he was an idiot.

Moose avoided my gaze. “She predicted Chad would go to prom with Melanie Fina.”

“Everyone predicted that. They were dating.”

“Ginger Gypsy dreamed about a fire burning around Chad.”

I shook my head. “Melanie Fina gave him gonorrhea. His aunt predicted his burning STD.”

“Whatever. There’s enough of a history. I think we should take her seriously.” Moose’s neck was getting red. The side door had opened, and another pair of eyes was watching us.