“What I want most is for everyone in Coldlake to know exactly who Dad is and what he’s done, and I’m not ready to give up on that hope yet. I’m sorry.” Her eyes are suddenly filled with tears. She hates that she still has hope.
I draw her into my arms. “Don’t cry, princess. Never fucking apologize for loving your mom.”
She holds me tight for a second and then pulls back. “If the Black Orchid Killer was in this room right now, would you seek justice, or would you just want him dead?”
“Dead,” I say. I don’t even need to think about it. A monster like that needs to be put down.
The others nod.
Morbid silence stretches through the room. I stare at Chiara’s belly. My woman’s pregnant, and she’s thinking about revenge killings and her piece-of-shit murderer of a father. She should be happy and without stress. I need to do better.
Chiara swipes her fingers under her eyes, a determined expression on her face. “All right. I know what I want to do next.”
“Bambina, you shouldn’t be doing anything. You need to relax after what you’ve been through today.”
She shakes her head. “Women all around the world and throughout history have managed to do amazing things while they’re pregnant, and I will too.” She turns to me. “Lorenzo, will you please take me to Strife?”
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. The dodgy dive bar right on the edge of gang territory, also known as the last place on this fucking earth that I want Chiara to be right now. “Why the hell would I take you to Strife?”
“Because I want to talk to Acid. I’m calling in the favor he owes me.”
“Well, well, well. I’m honored, your highness.”
Acid saunters out from behind the bar, his green eyes gleaming. It’s the middle of the afternoon and there are only a handful of hardened drinkers in the front bar. Through the door into the main bar, two women in G-strings dance onstage to Partition by Beyoncé.
“Hello, Acid. It’s nice to see you, too.”
“Ah, for a moment I thought you really meant that.” He glances at me, and there’s a flicker of anger in his expression. He still hasn’t forgiven me for pointing a gun in his face and telling him he’s a dead man.
“I do mean it. Can you spare me half an hour of your time?”
Acid’s gaze moves from Chiara to me and back again, as curious as a cat. “Sure. Anything for you, your highness.”
“I’d like to speak to Thane, too. If he’s around.”
Acid takes his phone from his pocket and makes a call. “Thane, her highness is here. Come downstairs like a good boy and pay your respects.”
I could smash his fucking face in for calling Chiara that, and Acid knows it. Chiara, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind, and she has her head held high like she really is a queen.
A moment later, we hear heavy footsteps coming downstairs. Thane’s wearing a black tank top and pants with too many pockets and straps. Is it fashion? Are those pockets actually useful? Who fucking knows.
His eyelinered gaze flickers over us and lands on Chiara, and his head tips ever so slightly to one side. His attitude is somewhere between curious and impatient as he folds his arms and waits.
“Good afternoon, Thane.” Chiara turns to Acid. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Sure. Let’s go into the bounty bar.”
The bouncers with tattooed faces open the doors for us. Zagreus is in a booth at the back of the bar on his laptop and he looks up automatically as we walk in. He seems surprised to see Chiara, but his expression flattens into dislike as he sees me. I’m even less welcome around here than I used to be.
Tough fucking titties.
There are a handful of hunters scattered throughout the darkened bar, in pairs or alone. They follow Chiara’s progress across the room with sharp interest. It’s not every day that a beautiful blonde dressed in jeans and a babydoll T-shirt walks through here. They’re wondering what she’s doing in the bounty bar at Strife, accompanied by Acid, Thane, and Lorenzo Scava, no less.
Acid shows Chiara to a table and they sit down with Thane. I stand by Chiara’s chair with my arms folded and glare around the room until everyone goes back to minding their own fucking business.
“You can sit if you want,” Acid tells me.
No shit I can sit if I want. “I’ll stand.”
“What can I get you to drink?” Acid asks Chiara.
“Lemonade, please.” He signals to the bartender, and she asks, “How’s business lately?”
Thane’s eyes narrow and he and Acid exchange glances.
“You don’t even know what we do, do you?” Acid asks.
She gives a careless shrug. “I know some things. Would you like to tell me more?”
Acid cracks his knuckles, watching her. “Your men go to work in fancy suits, pretending like what they do is legitimate, meanwhile, we’re out here on the streets risking our lives to make their money for them.”
“Out of the goodness of your hearts,” I say through my teeth.
Acid smiles slowly. “Out of the goodness of our hearts, and for a fuckload of cash. The difference is we get our hands dirty.”
Chiara’s doubtful gaze travels over him. She’s seen all of us get our hands dirty at one time or another.
He points to me but leans toward Chiara. “Your man here used to be one of us. Down here on the streets. Then he got expensive tastes.” Acid’s eyes run pointedly up and down Chiara’s body.
She blinks slowly at him, her expression bored, and there’s a flicker of disappointment in Acid’s eyes that she hasn’t risen to the bait.
“Lorenzo’s tastes are my business, not yours.”
The bartender brings a lemonade for Chiara, puts a beer down in front of Acid and hands Thane a glass of water.
“Oh, I bet Lorenzo’s got really interesting tastes.”
Chiara doesn’t bother to reply.
Seeing that he’s not going to get under her skin, Acid’s attention swings to me. “When are you going to tell me to go fuck myself?”
I pretend I’m not this close to stabbing him in the throat. “She can tell you herself if she wants to.”
Chiara takes a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving Acid. “Your attitude is cute. I can see you’re enjoying yourself but remember I saved your life. Twice. If I asked for it, I could have those two pints of blood back, with interest, and then have this place razed to the ground.”
I reach out and stroke the nape of Chiara’s neck.
You sure could, princess.
Acid sits back, shaking his head. “You really are the Princess of Coldlake.”
She smiles at him. “I am. Can we talk business now?”
“Sure, your highness. When you’re in trouble you need the best of the best, and that’s us. What kind of problems can we help you with?”
Thane raises one dark, sardonic brow. “Daddy issues?”
Acid tries to keep a straight face, but his lips twitch as he takes a mouthful of beer. “We, ah, might not be the men to help you with those. Try Ferragamo.”
“I wish I could join in your fun. I’ve had a hard time joking about my father since he murdered my mother right in front of me.”
Both Acid and Thane’s expressions turn blank with shock.
“We thought that was gang shit,” Acid says.