Chapter 9 Reva #2
When our eyes lock, he tips his head like he’s pulling down the brim of an imaginary hat. Like he’s a chivalrous knight in modern times.
And maybe he is. But I don’t have time to test which parts of the act are real.
Midnight. Deacon. Revenge.
Then I can rest.
I glance toward the back hallway, wondering what the odds are of Ever letting me take a break.
“You need a break or something?” Sonny asks. “What’s so fascinating about the back?”
I stiffen, jerking my attention back to her.
“Oh, um…my ex,” I lie. “It kinda reminds me of the hall in my apartment building.”
“Oh.” Sonny’s face twists. “Shit, girl. You want to talk about it?”
Using Sonny’s kindness as a tool tastes wrong, but a means to an end is still a means. I crack my neck until tension releases and let my gaze drift toward the hallway again.
“He used to like to stalk me,” I say, keeping my words calm and measured. “Made it a game. I’d find him out there sometimes, lurking. Waiting for me to get home. He’d unscrew the breezeway light so it was always dark…get mad when I called the police about it.”
“You serious?” Sonny’s voice drops. “What a fucking pig.”
God, I hate lying. I glance away.
“I got out,” I add, voice tight. “I managed to run.”
“And you ran all the way to Toulouse Street,” she says. Her eyes soften. “I’m glad you did.”
“Well, I’m originally from the south. Seemed logical.”
The truth slips out before I can catch it. I feel it the second it leaves my mouth—too real, too loose—and I backtrack fast.
“I mean…if you can count Virginia as the south.” I flash Sonny a quick smile. It’s another lie, just like the surname I’ve given anyone who asked—McEntire—is, but she doesn’t know that. They’re piling up. I’m going to need to start writing them down so I can keep track of them.
We’re close enough for the men to hear.
Ever’s head turns a fraction. His eyes sharpen. Just a subtle shift, but I feel it anyway. Like a lock clicking.
“I’m just glad you got out,” Sonny says, oblivious. “You had the guts to run and you actually made it happen. You’re safe here with us.”
Her gaze promises nothing bad will ever happen to me again. It would be easy to believe her if Shiloh’s smile hadn’t gone razor-thin for half a second.
“Toulouse Street isn’t a bad place to find yourself,” Sonny adds, trying for light. “You can heal here. Nothing exciting ever happens.”
I mimic her laugh, grim. “I figured this would be the one place he wouldn’t think to come after me. Completely random. No ties. But you never know.”
“Do you know self-defense? Keep your keys between your knuckles,” Sonny says, dead serious now. “And you know how to get out of a hold?”
“Uh…not really.”
She keeps rambling. It makes me wonder what she’s had to survive to talk about it so easily.
Someone calls for Sonny and her head snaps up. She excuses herself, leaving me alone at the bar waiting on an order under the watchful attention of the two men I’m thinking I probably need to avoid.
“So you’re from the south,” Shiloh says immediately, sliding into Sonny’s space. “Funny. I haven’t heard the accent. I’m familiar with it.”
“Well,” I reply, snapping my rubber bands, “some parts of Virginia are south and some parts are basically north. And I grew up in Chicago.”
“How old are you, really?” Shiloh asks.
Ever is a dark presence behind the bar, comfortable in the gloom as he moves through duties. Controlled. Multitasking like he’s built for it.
I chew on the inside corner of my lip. “Old enough. Twenty-two.”
“And when did you go into foster care?”
My head snaps up so fast my neck twinges. “Why would you think I was in foster care?”
“I snooped in your bag,” he says, voice low and unrepentant. “There was a DCFS discharge and placement form. Weirdly, it’s a Louisiana state form.”
“You fucking jerk.”
“Guilty.”
For a long minute I stare at him, silent and raging on the inside. I don’t even have words to process how completely…violated…his knowing this about me makes me feel, but I’ve never wanted to hurt someone the way I do right now.
A hand settles over mine, and I tear my attention from Shiloh to find Ever on the other side of the bar, his usually expressionless features troubled. “Stop.”
“What?”
“Stop hurting yourself.”
He moves his hand, releasing me. My fingers curl into a fist at the sight of the nail marks in my wrist. I guess at some point I switched from popping the rubber band to simply clawing myself.
I look back at Shiloh, then pick up the drink order. “You had no right.”
He shrugs, then curls a hand around my bicep, halting me as I go to walk past him.
“Maybe. But here’s the thing…you might be on the run from something, but I’m willing to bet it goes a hell of a lot deeper than some psycho ex.”
I clear my throat. “And if I am? That’s my business. I spent some time in foster care, sure,” I say. Safe version. Honey-coated version. “And then I was taken in by a family friend, and I made something of myself. I worked damned hard to get over my past.”
Over the trauma. Over the darkness. Over being so alone it rewired something in me.
Shiloh nods once. “You sure did.”
“Looks like you jumped right from the frying pan to the fire,” Ever says, monotone and deadpan.
I shoot him a look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Means you tried to outrun the system. Did, by your account. Only then you found yourself shackled up with some piece of shit who gets his kicks off preying on the weak.” He leans closer, voice soft. “How’m I doing so far, darlin’?”
“Bout what I’d expect from someone who doesn’t understand the line between boss and employee.”
Jerking my arm from Shiloh’s hand, I stalk away to deliver my order.
It’s well after two a.m. by the time we get the last body out the door and finish cleaning.
There’s no mercy for a newbie. Sweat trickles down my spine as I sweep, shoulders burning, feet screaming.
I look up and find Ever watching me. He’s been watching me all night.
“You know, the way you watch me kinda reminds me of that piece of shit ex,” I call out, because I’m tired and irritated and my mouth has a mind of its own.
Ever grunts in lieu of an answer.
“Make no mistake,” Shiloh drawls, stretching. His shirt pulls tight across his chest and shoulders, and my mouth goes dry in spite of myself. “We’re watching you for an entirely different reason than he was.”
My gaze dips without permission—to the V just visible at his waist, to memories I don’t need to invite back in. When we lock eyes again, his are heated, his smile pinned tight at the edges.
How much did he see in my backpack? My stomach drops.
“I don’t know what that even means. Are you the kind of men who would watch out for me if he happened to come through the door?” I ask, forcing the question out flat, casual. Like it doesn’t matter.
“Like you said,” Ever answers, voice rough. “Your business is yours.”
It’s a warning. Curiosity is one thing, as long as I don’t bring my trouble to their doorstep any more than I already have.
I give a thoughtful nod and set the broom in the corner, then pick up a rag and begin polishing a section of the bar that already shines. My fingers tremble slightly and I curl them into the rag.
Which I guess means it’s time I laid at least some of my cards out between us.
“So. Part of the reason I’m here. I heard there are…people for hire. Someone named… Midnight?”
Stillness creeps into the room and infects everything. The bustle of the other staff fades to background noise. The air constricts until it grows heavy in my lungs.
Ever’s expression stays neutral, but his voice cools. “Training’s over, Reva.”
My stomach drops through the hole in my gut—the one I thought had an end. I give a weak smile. “That means I’ve got the job, right?”
Ever and Shiloh exchange a look. “We’ll get back to you on that,” Shiloh says.
Shit. I pushed too far. Took a stupid risk, and now I’ve lost my only access point.
Too much. Too soon.
When a man like Ever says training’s over, it doesn’t sound like he’ll be giving me a schedule. It sounds like a verdict.
And the worst part is—I can’t tell if he means I’m done learning…or if I’m just done.