Page 21

Ren, practically drooling, opened her mouth to continue the line of questioning, but I cleared my throat to stop her.

There was onboarding to do if we were going to take on a new employee, forms that needed signing, wages to be agreed on. Which meant that she’d have to make time for flirting later.

“Can you come in at one tomorrow, Vi? The girls will be rehearsing, but we can fill out your paperwork and get everything settled before open.”

She nodded, grabbing her sparkly handbag from under the counter, the heels she’d entered the club in dangling from her fingers. “You got it. See you tomorrow, Ren?”

Ren nodded, giving her a quick two-finger salute. “Until next time,Striker.”

Vi’s head tilted, eyelashes fluttering in the most obvious flirting I’d seen without money being exchanged. “I think I preferred your other nickname for me,Sir.”

I could practically hear whatever was holding Ren back from fucking her on the bartop snap. The threads of a rope unravelling rapidly.

“My mistake,Pet.”

Babydoll looked between the two of them, golden eyebrows lifted in a way that told me there’d be a fair share of gossiping on the way home. “Let’s, uh, go?”

I’d been so distracted that I jumped when I turned to follow the girls up to lock the door behind them and found Garrett leaning in the doorway.

My brother-in-law had a definitive air of unkemptness about him that’d become his signature well before Cherie’s funeral. His dark, shaggy hair pushed back from his face in loose waves. The white T-shirt stretched across his thick middle, wrinkled and dull. His eyes landed on Babydoll’s lean legs for a couple seconds too long before flicking to Vi.

“Didn’t expect to see you here again,” he called to the girls with a grin that was more of a grimace, his fangs glinting in the glow of the neon.

“Well, I do work here,Gary,” Babydoll said coolly, shouldering past him with her hand linked with Vi’s to lead her upstairs.

Hehatedthe nickname, but it was one of the few holdovers that Babydoll had kept out of spite. They’d had a tumultuous little affair that ended when Babydoll found him in the back rooms with Peaches. She’d avoided him ever since, not exactly an easy task as the brother of her former boss.

I had no idea what had drawn her to him—okay, that was a fucking lie—money. For a while, he’d had a lot of it, and then like with most things in Garrett’s life, time, his coven, his family, he’d pissed it away for gambling and drugs.

Luckily for the rest of us, Babydoll was a paramount professional and didn’t rise to his bullshit whenever he deigned to darken our doorstep.

“Surprised you let her walk around dressed like that,” He commented as his eyes followed the girls through the door.

“What’re you doing here, Garrett? We’re closed,” Ren called flatly.

His attention snapped back to us, smile not quite meeting his eyes. He looked… tired. Or maybe just a bit run down. I was sure the long hours at the gallery were a helpful distraction from his grief, but… at what cost?

I couldn’t really judge him for throwing himself into work with what I’d been doing myself but… at least I’d tried.

Bitterness rose up in me, my eyes narrowing on my brother in law.

“I was hoping to talk to you in private, Dana,” he said, crossing the room to pull down a stool and sitting heavily. His pointed look at Ren was a clear attempt at dismissal that she ignored entirely. “You haven’t been returning my calls.”

Garrett wasn’t a small man, towering over me at six-foot-five and damn near three hundred pounds. Even perched onthe stool, he was over a head taller than me. It would’ve been intimidating—if I didn’t know that he was a seedy little bitch.

That said, I did feel alittleguilty for avoiding him. I’d been dodging his attempts to reach me for weeks… So, really, it was just a matter of time before he arrived on our doorstep.

He was going through the loss as much as we were, but I just… couldn’t.

Couldn’t stomach talking about her.

Thinking about her.

Or looking at him and seeing the way he tilted his head, almost like I was seeing her profile.

Fucking familial resemblance.

“Yeah,” I hummed noncommittally. “Sorry about that. Can we get you a drink?”