Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“I think it’s what she needs. She’s been carrying this rage for years. It’s eating her alive.”
“So you’re going to teach her to be you.”
“I’m going to teach her to be better than me.” I lean forward. “She won’t become what I became because she has something I never had.”
“Which is?”
“A reason to stop.”
Jay considers this, his fingers drumming against his desk. “You know what? This is actually . . . not the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
I blink. “It’s not?”
“Think about it. You stay clean. She gets her agency back. And when this is all over and the Crow are dead . . .” Jay’s expression shifts into something that might be professional interest. “Well, I’ll have a new client to work on her post-homicide adjustment issues.”
“You’re not horrified?”
“Blue, I’ve been treating killers for twenty years. A woman seeking justice for her father’s murder? That’s practically therapeutic compared to most of my clientele.” Jay picks up his pen. “Besides, it keeps you from relapsing, which was my primary concern anyway.”
“So you’re . . . okay with this?”
“I’m okay with you finding a way to help her that doesn’t involve you personally dismembering people.” Jay makes a note. “Though I do think we should discuss healthy boundaries in mentor-mentee relationships that involve homicide instruction.”
Jay starts to sit down, then immediately pops back up to rearrange three different pens on his desk. He picks up a paperweight, sets it down in a new spot, then moves it back. Finally, he settles into his chair, absently squeezing his stress ball while focusing on me again.
My phone buzzes with a text. I grab it like it’s a lifeline, expecting an update from Hans.
Instead, it’s a photo of Saylor standing outside Toil & Trouble—Grimlock’s main watering hole. Hans’s awkward attempt at surveillance photography has cut off half her body. She’s changed out of the dress from this morning into something that’s purely her—a fitted black dress with a cherry print, paired with a cropped leather jacket that’s seen better days but fits her like armor. Her dark hair is styled in victory rolls with strategic pieces framing her face, and even from Hans’s terrible angle I can see the red lipstick that makes her mouth look like sin itself. She’s got one hand on her hip, studying the bar’s entrance like she’s deciding whether the establishment is worthy of her presence.
She looks like trouble in the best possible way. Like herself.
The relief is so intense I have to grip the chair to stay upright.
“Good news?” Jay asks, clearly reading my body language.
“She’s fine. Hans sent a photo.” I show him the screen. “She’s outside Toil & Trouble.”
“Toil & Trouble? The Dunsin sisters’ place?” Jay fidgets with his glasses. “Huh.”
“What do you mean, ‘huh’?”
“Nothing. Just . . . the sisters are . . . protective of their space. They don’t exactly roll out the welcome mat for newcomers.” Jay’s expression shifts to something more concerned. “Especially people they haven’t had a chance to vet properly.”
The image of the Dunsin sisters deciding Saylor is a threat, of them viewing her as someone who doesn’t belong in their sanctuary, of them choosing poison over cocktails—fuck no. No fucking way.
“I need to go,” I say, already standing.
“Blue, wait.” His voice has lost its teasing edge. “But they wouldn’t actually hurt her, right? I mean, they’d just . . . make her unwelcome?”
“The sisters aren’t murder sober, Jay. They are the opposite when they feel justified. And they’re wary of anyone they don’t recognize. Until they get to know Saylor, until they understand she belongs here, she’s just another potential threat.”
Jay nods slowly, understanding. “Which is why you’re worried.”
“Exactly. But until then, she’s a stranger in a town full of people who’ve learned not to trust strangers.”
“Sit down,” Jay says firmly. “We’re going to talk through this like rational adults instead of letting your inner caveman take over.”
“I don’t have time for—”
“Make time. Because the alternative is you storming into Toil & Trouble, scaring Saylor, confirming every fear she has about you, and proving that bringing her to Grimlock was the worst decision you’ve ever made.” Jay points to the chair. “Sit.”
I sit, but every nerve ending in my body is coiled to spring into action.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Jay says, his voice taking on the authoritative tone that means he’s shifted into full therapist mode. “You’re going to stay here for the rest of our session. You’re going to work through these feelings like a mature adult. And then you’re going to go home and wait for Saylor to return on her own terms.”
“And if she doesn’t return?”
“Then you’ll deal with that when it happens. But Blue?” Jay leans forward, his energy shifting to serious. “If you want any chance of this working—whatever ‘this’ turns out to be—you need to prove you trust her judgment. Starting right now.”