Page 50 of Veil of Death and Shadow

The last thing Frank needed was a citation.

The man froze, his full attention on me now as he turned, his kneecaps lightly pressing against my hip bone.

My stomach flipped, but I shoved the sensation away.

I turned towards him, meeting his eyes as I gestured in Frank’s direction. “He doesn’t have his liquor license,” I said, my words slow and clear so that there’d be no confusion. “If you want to drink, there are plenty of other places to do it without risking someone’s job stability.”

Honestly, I was mildly impressed with myself that my voice came out cool and collected, and not at all betraying the way this man’s stare had completely unraveled my composure.

I wasn’t even sure why I was fighting this so much. If Frank wanted to give this dude his booze, that was his business—but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to stand down.

Frank may have been a grumpy asshole sometimes—okay, all the time—but he’d been there for Sora and me in ways no one else had. As far as we could tell, he didn’t have anyone fighting in his corner—except for us.

The possibility this guy was taking advantage of him rankled my nerves.

“Everything okay?” Sora rounded the booth, and stood next to me, her arms crossed, signature glare glaring overtime.

“Fine,” the man said, his eyes locked on mine.

I swallowed, inching back from him, but I was caught between his legs, Sora, and the stool at my back.

His lips twitched, the shadow of a smile, there and then gone.

My fingers twisted into fists—whether to punch him or keep myself from brushing that curl of hair from his eyes, I wasn’t sure.

I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me, but something about this dude had my instincts going haywire.

“Okay.” Sora glanced between us, then relaxed. “Great.”

I narrowed my eyes, studying her from the corner of my eyes.

She didn’t usually back down so easily.

“What—”

“Do you have any suggestions?” the man asked, cutting me off. His eyes cut into me, and I found myself getting lost in the bleed of grays that washed against the black of his irises. They reminded me of a thunderstorm on a warm summer night—both chaotic and oddly calming.

“What?” I blinked a few times and took a step back. There was more room this time because I’d been unconsciously moving towards him, until I was standing with his knees bent on either side of my thighs.

“Of places to drink.” He arched a brow, the hair dark and thick—a perfect frame for those haunted eyes of his. “Legally, I mean. I didn’t mean to cause trouble for your friend.”

“Yes. She works at one. In fact,” Sora said, her gaze dipping between me and the stranger, a devious grin on her face, “she’s going there now. So she can take you.”

My breath caught at the thought of spending more time in the man’s proximity—as if a walk down the street was as intimate and vulnerable as showing him to my bedroom.

I swallowed, trying to find a way to politely decline.

“Great,” he said before I could, his lips twisting into a soft, teasing smile. He stood. My eyes were level with his chest andshoulders—both lined with the same smooth muscle as his back. “Lead the way.”

When I didn’t respond, Sora shoved my arm. “You’re running late, remember? Get going.”

“Right.” I cleared my throat, my stomach dropping when I realized that I’d wasted the few precious minutes I had before my shift picking a fight with a stranger. I glanced up at him, not quite meeting his eyes. “Let’s go then. Like she said, I’m late.”

The walk to Mac’s Tavern was a quiet one.

But the quiet did nothing to ease my discomfort.

If anything, it just made me hyper aware of the few times the man’s arm brushed against mine as he matched my stride, step for step.

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