Page 37 of Bourbon & Blood

He nodded slowly, and said, “Then the terms of our agreement begin now, my little Alina.”

The way he said my name, it was almost as if he’d spoken some kind of magic spell into existence. Something tangible and binding, and who knows? Maybe the Voodoo Bastards really were into voodoo magic of some kind.

“So mote it be,” I murmured, because it just seemed like the right thing to do, that a spell really had just been cast and that it needed my binding final word as well.

“Go inside, cher,” he said, and I looked to my left and blinked. We were standing at the entrance to my apartment building.

I turned back to look at him and he looked down at me.

“When will you start?” I asked him, standing up straighter, my heart hammering in my throat.

“Right now,” he answered, and I nodded.

“What do you need from me?” I asked.

“Right this minute? Nothing,” he said. “If I need anything, I’ll be in touch.”

I nodded and he raised his eyebrows, like he needed to hear it.

“Alright,” I said, lingering on the sidewalk with him for whatever reason… I didn’t know why.

I got out my keys and keyed my way into the lobby. He pulled the door shut behind me and stood on the other side of the oval of glass set into its sturdy and thick wood frame of the door with all its old and fancy brass trim.

I stared at him through the thick glass for several moments and realized – I was intrigued by him, more than I was afraid.

Wasn’t that some food for thought? Or maybe it was just the Goddesses’ will…

I didn’t know, but it felt right, so for now? I would go with it.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

La Croix…

She lingered on the other side of the glass and I stood, committing every line, every swoop and sweeping curve, every constellation of freckle that peeked through her worn makeup, to memory.

She was so beautiful, it made the heart ache and long… much like a deep longing for someplace calledhome, even when you’d never much had one.

I waited until I could no longer see her as she ascended the stairs before I pulled my phone from my cut.

I called Hex.

“Yeah,” he grumbled into the line, his voice thick and heavy with sleep.

“I’ve never asked anything of you or this club,” I said to him. “I’ve towed the fuckin’ line since day one. Been the sword you’ve wielded against friend and foe alike.”

“Man, La Croix, you okay? What’s going on? You drunk?”

“I’m not drunk, but I am in need, my brother. Can I count on you?” I asked.

Silence metered out over the line, like the collective universe held its breath while the gravity of my words sank in to Hex.

“What do you need?” he asked. He was awake now. Alert. The wheels turning.

“Meet me at the club,” I said.

Without hesitation, he said, “Alright. Be there in a few.” The tone sounded in my ear that he’d ended the call.

I rode straight for it, and when I pulled in, Hex was waiting. I tended to forget how close the fucker lived to the clubhouse.

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