Page 109 of Nemesis

She meets my gaze and raises an eyebrow.

I tip my head. She breaks away and follows me out into the dining room, and I fiddle with a lock of my hair.

“Not like you to look nervous,” she comments. “You okay?”

I shake my head slowly. “I think something bad is coming.”

Her expression blanks.

“Like…” I can’t say it.

She says it for me. “Like Terror.”

“I don’t know, it’s just a hunch, but if it does? I want you to get everyone well away from here. Take them to Emerald Cove?—”

“We don’t have the kind of money to relocate everyone,” she interjects gently.

“I do.” I stare at her. “I do, Sam. When you’re ready, you take it and them and you run.”

She hugs me. I’m not expecting it, but being swallowed up in her grip is actually nice. Comforting.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I know you try to do so much for us, but you go above and beyond.”

My throat closes.

It isn’t just Sam. It’s everyone who works for me.

Which is why Mel frustrates me. I haven’t forgotten that she shared information with Malik. That she hangs out with the Hell Hounds, trying to be someone’s old lady. Trust me, I went throughthatphase, too. Luckily my brother didn’t let anyone get that close.

And I haven’t fired her yet, either. Even though I said I would, I haven’t managed to pull the trigger.

Sam and I separate, and we return to make pizzas. Sam, Jackie, Ginger, Mel, Cassandra, Lisa, Tess, Mitch, Paul, and Barry. Antonio. Me. Bartenders and managers and security and waitresses. It doesn’t really matter what title they hold at the end of the day.

Antonio directs Tess to the beers, and she passes them out to all of us.

I raise mine. “To the best crew I’ve had the pleasure of working with.”

Antonio smiles softly.

“Hear, hear,” he says.

“Hear, hear,” they echo.

Glasses clink.

My heart doesn’t feel quite so lost at the moment.

31REESE

Saint Hartand I are getting to know each other.

While drinking. It’s honestly the only way to do it. I hold my cards close to my chest—literally and figuratively—and wait for him to make a move. It came down to gin or chess, so here we are. Not a freaking chessboard in sight.

We’re trading questions for shots. And playing cards, because it’s better to not just stare at each other all night. God, that would be weird.

I dealt, he poured, and now he’s examining his cards. He’s got the first question, I’m sure, so I lean back in the chair and wait.

He finally discards and throws back his shot, smiling wickedly at me. He doesn’t grimace, but I think he’s been numb for a while. Liquor isn’t going to change that.

---