Page 118 of Price of Angels

“Have some of this.” He tried to give the mug back to her after she set it down.

“I can’t be seen drinking a customer’s coffee.”

At another time, she would have laughed herself breathless looking at the dark scowl that marred his face. “I’m not a customer.”

“Then what are you?”

“You know damn well.”

With a sigh, she sat down across from him.

He shoved the coffee closer.

With a consenting eye roll, she took a quick swallow, and set it firmly back on his side of the table. “Happy?”

No response.

It was one of those silences that felt like an opening, and she caved forward, bracing her elbows on the table. “I can’t believe that happened today,” she groaned in a quiet voice.

“Your psycho fucked up family is trying to take you back? I can believe it.”

“I can’t believe I let them get near Ava.”

Michael gave her a steady look. “You didn’t.”

“What do you call it then?” she challenged, anger rising against despair, the two winding together into one ugly plait. “I should never have been at her house. I should never have exposed her–”

“You didn’t expose her to anything.”

“I exposed her to me!” Her hands fell down onto the table and curled into fists. “To me, Michael, and I knew better.”

He made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat. “Will you just calm down? You didn’t do anything wrong. And after tonight, it won’t matter anymore.”

“You found them?”

“Working on it.”

“They won’t go back to the house, you know. You can’t find them sitting at home waiting on you.”

“I know that,” he snapped. “Stop, okay? Don’t worry about it. This is my problem.”

She pressed her lips together against a protest.Hisproblem. He’d taken it on as such, pulling the mantle fully onto his shoulders, trying to leave hers bare and light. Did he even know the kind of wonder and love that inspired in her?

“Be careful,” she said. “No man who believes he has God on his side makes impatient mistakes. Abraham and Jacob are dangerous.”

“So am I.”

She felt a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I know that. Thank God.”

She swung her legs to the side, gathering herself to get up – the bar was swarming with patrons, people on their feet and shuffling back and forth to the pay phones, the rest rooms, the jukebox; she had to get back to her customers. She pulled up short, though, when she saw two men standing at the end of their table. Amid the intensity of their conversation, and the noise of the bar, neither of them had heard anyone approach. And there they were, like a matched pair, in their straight-leg jeans and dirty Carhartt jackets.

Abraham and Jacob.

Holly opened her mouth but could produce no sound. She had no breath; there was no air in her lungs or moisture on her tongue. She couldn’t look at Michael for a reaction, because her eyes refused to swerve away from her father’s face.

Abraham didn’t smile; somehow, it would have been easier if he had. With grave seriousness, he said, “Hello, Holly.”

Jacob, always the less tactful of the two, said, “Is this what you’ve done? Thrown in with one of these bikers?” He turned a sneering glance on Michael. “Ain’t you the one that’s s’posed to come kiss us in our sleep? Won’t your boss like to hear where your hands have been.” He laughed, seeming delighted by the prospect.

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