Page 26 of Prodigal Son

Charlie Fox loved his father, on some level, and he hated that he did. And that was the only reason Eden had stuck with the case once she learned Devin was at the heart of it.

But apparently, Raven looked at her and saw just another pathetic woman pining after a bad boy biker.

“Thank you for the wine,” Eden said, sliding out of the booth. “It was good to see you again, Raven.”

“Mmhm,” Raven murmured. “Same to you.”

Eden walked toward the bar with the weight of Raven’s gaze against her back. She resisted the urge to shrug beneath its onslaught.

There was an empty seat at the bar, and she climbed onto it. The prospect acting as bartender swooped in immediately; at the moment, she was the only woman sitting here and he must have honed right in on her.

“Whiskey, please,” she said. “I don’t care what kind. On the rocks.”

He nodded and went to fix it.

“So,” a familiar voice said to her right, and she groaned when she realized who she’d sat down beside. “You girls looked cozy.”

She slanted Albie a withering glance and found that he wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t even teasing. This family was so damn calculating…but he didn’t look like that, either. He almost…

“Raven’s very protective,” Albie said with a shrug. “She wouldn’t want anyone to think that, but she is. Whatever she said, don’t take it too seriously. She likes to be mysterious and threatening.”

Huh.

Her whiskey arrived, and she drained it in one long, burning swallow, ice clicking against her teeth. “Leave the bottle,” she told the prospect.

“Went that well, huh?”

Eden sighed as she poured herself another drink. “You don’t have to talk to me.”

“Does that mean you don’t want me to?”

“Ugh. Oh my God, Albie, just…don’t. I’m too tired for this. If you want to vaguely threaten me, or warn me off, or hate me, fine, but…tomorrow. Please. Right now, I’d really like to get drunk and go to bed.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

She waited.

“But…”

“Here we go.”

He chuckled. “No, wait, hold on. It’s not bad, I promise. I’m not my sister, and I don’t care what Fox gets up to so long as it doesn’t affect me.”

“’Gets up to.’ How flattering.”

His next laugh was more of a tired sigh. “God, just…Look.” When she glanced over from the corner of her eye, she saw him push a hand through his hair, expression pinched. “You two deserve each other, you know?” he muttered.

“What?” Her stomach didnotflip. And if it did, it was just the alcohol.

“I asked about your assistant. Axelle.” A lie, but one she would gladly jump on with both feet.

“What about her?” she asked, edge of defensiveness creeping into her voice, turning so she could really gauge his expression.

He looked disinterested – he always looked like that. But one corner of his mouth ticked downward in a tiny frown. “She blames her dad’s death on the Dogs.”

“Yes, she does.”

His frown deepened. “And you brought her here.”

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