While Shepherd filled up his glass and continued rambling about demons, I sent a message to Gem. She quickly replied and said Claude had to take another route because of an accident, so I decided not to trouble them. They were close to home and probably tired after a long night of questioning people in the bar. Christian was being antisocial, Niko was blind, and I wasn’t sure if Blue could drive. So I messaged Wyatt since he was Shepherd’s partner.
Wyatt gladly accepted, obviously eager to get out of the house. When I finished our conversation, I looked up, and Shepherd was gone.
Voices overlapped, and techno music thumped from the main room by the bar. I scanned the room. When I saw a neck tattoo, I stood up to go get him, but as I neared, I realized it wasn’t a lover’s knot like the one Shepherd had on the back of his neck. I turned in a circle, and my eyes widened when I spotted Shepherd sitting at a table, his arm around the man he’d pointed out just moments ago in his drunken stupor. Across from them was a very confused woman.
As I neared, their conversation became audible.
“You need to worship the ground she walks on,” Shepherd said, his anger barely quelled. “Men like you don’t deserve what you’ve got. Are you going to make her pay for her own drink? Are you one of those assholes?”
“I think you need to take a walk,” the man said. Thankfully he wasn’t a Vampire or Mage, but was insulted nonetheless.
I put my hands on Shepherd’s shoulders and gave them a light squeeze. “Let’s go. Wyatt’s coming to hang out with us. Maybe we should check out the gluttony room and order sandwiches. Or would you rather have turtle soup?”
Shepherd ignored my quips and tightened his arm around the man’s neck. “Infidelity isn’t your worst nightmare, brother.”
The young man wrenched away, and his chair legs scraped against the floor as he stood up. Fire burned in his eyes as he gave Shepherd a scathing glance. He was nowhere near the same size—just a young man with prescription glasses and a blue tie. Probably a Relic or Shifter if I had to guess, though glasses were less common among Shifters since most Breeds didn’t suffer the same degenerative afflictions as humans.
But Relics did, and that made me concerned. A guy like Shepherd could do a lot of damage to a Relic.
“Come on, Trudy. Let’s go somewhere private,” the man said.
Shepherd rose to his feet. “Aren’t you going to buy her dinner? Did you just want to get her liquored up so you could stick your plug in her socket?”
I grabbed the back of Shepherd’s shirt. “Let it go, Shepherd. You don’t even know these people. Where he sticks his plug is none of your business.”
Trudy was a petite girl with a round figure and wearing a blue dress. She was as pretty as a doll but looked terrified of the situation.
When the man took Trudy’s hand, Shepherd grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back. I wrapped my arms around Shepherd’s waist and hauled him away until he collapsed on top of me. My back hit the floor with a thud, knocking the wind out of my lungs. Over two hundred pounds of muscle on top of me wasn’t helping my breathing situation either.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I spat.
Shepherd rolled off me and knocked into the table, tipping over a glass. With his lips pressed tight, he sat up and appeared more placid. In fact, something completely switched off behind those dark-brown eyes. The fire extinguished, replaced by a tide of hopelessness.
I scooted next to him. “What happened tonight? You didn’t say anything mean about Patrick’s kid stealing your phone, did you? Did Patrick threaten you?”
Even if Shepherd had said something vulgar or offensive, Patrick had no right. Especially after what Shepherd had done for him.
“Why the fuck am I here?” he murmured.
I patted his leg, searching for the right words, but I had none. “You know what? Let’s just sit here for a while. I’ll get the bottle and glasses, and we’ll have a drink under the table. No more talking. Sound good?”
He nodded.
While I didn’t have words of wisdom that someone like Niko could have offered, I had years of experience. My father was a recovering alcoholic, and I’d learned early on how to talk to a drunk by reading their body language and listening. What to say, what not to say, what they needed. My father wasn’t an angry drunk, but he had his moments where his emotional outbursts became intolerable. He used to take me to the bar and spend hours there, so this wasn’t my first time at the rodeo. But it was the first time I’d shared a drink and understood what it meant to have demons of my own.
An hour later, Shepherd had finally given up the booze and was working on his first cup of coffee. He hadn’t said much, but I’d gotten him off the floor and into a booth, so that was progress.
Limbo had a different vibe. Most people were low-key and not as boisterous as in other rooms. They were lost souls who wanted to either connect with others or be left alone. Maybe Shepherd and I fit right in.
Near the door, the crowd parted, granting passage to a man strolling in. Wyatt had swagger, and when he walked, people noticed—black cowboy boots, army-green jacket, and all. He wasn’t overly handsome or especially tall, but his charisma and charming smile made up for any shortcomings.
He flattened his palms on the table so I could see all the letters tattooed on his fingers. “I’m here to save the day.”
Shepherd sipped his coffee and stared listlessly at the cup.
“Where are your keys, Shep?”
“Someone stole them.”
Wyatt slid in beside him, directly across from me. “Your Jeep is still outside. Why would someone steal your keys and not your car? You misplaced them, you drunken bastard.”
“I already searched the club,” I said. “No one’s turned them in, but the waitresses are keeping an eye out.”
“Buttercup, the only thing those ladies are looking for are tips.” Wyatt propped his elbows on the table and tapped his fists together. “How did dinner with Mr. Fancy Pants go?”
I pointed my finger at him. “Next time we do anything like that, you’re going.”
Wyatt regarded Shepherd for a moment with a concerned look.
“I’m going to close the tab,” I announced. “Meet me by the bar.”
“Hold up.” Wyatt shot out of his seat and fell into step beside me, his voice low. “What’s up with him?”
“I don’t know. Has he ever been this way before?”
“Cantankerous?”
“No, drunk for no reason.”
We both stopped and looked back at Shepherd, who was pouring sugar into his coffee.
“He’s pretty tanked,” Wyatt said. “Nothing unusual happened tonight that set him off?”
I shrugged. “After cake, I left them alone to talk privately. His whole mood changed when we got here. Maybe it was Gem and Claude accusing him of murder.”
Wyatt shook me by the shoulders and laughed. “You guys really know how to make a guy feel loved. Run along while I do some damage control. We need to get back so I can monitor the, uh… listings.” His gaze darted around.
“No one is watching? What if someone puts him up?”
“Hold your horses, Calamity Jane. Blue’s my backup, but I don’t want to leave her alone too long. Christian better get his butt home. He’s supposed to take over the night shift while I sleep.” Wyatt glanced back at the table and rubbed his chin. “I just hope Shepherd doesn’t put up a fight. Sometimes he gets too comfortable hanging out in these places.”
I poked his shoulder. “Drag him if you have to. Let’s go.”
I strode down the wide hall, passing each circle of hell. Red light illuminated one wall, blue on another. The music grew louder as I entered the main room, people dancing all around. I’d brought sufficient cash tucked in my front pocket—a habit from my old life—and closed out the tab. Afterward, I pulled my fingerless gloves out of my back pockets and realized I wasn’t wearing my coat.
“Dammit,” I whispered.
Hopefully one of the guys had noticed and grabbed it on the way out. Just in case, I decided to send Wyatt a quick message. But before I could reach for my phone, a guy across the room caught my attention.
I stood frozen, observing a man and woman standing beneath a red light. The woman had her back to a pillar and appeared uncertain as the man kept talking. He had a tattoo on the back of his neck, and I remembered him from earlier. Sure, lots of guys had tattoos, but now that we had a vague description of someone in this club who had been talking to our victim, it was enough for me to pay attention.
He touched her shoulder, still talking a mile a minute while she listened, her eyes downcast. The whole conversation felt off, as if he were trying to talk her into something. Maybe he was just hitting on her and she didn’t know how to let him down, but it didn’t appear as innocuous as that.
I squinted, trying to make out what his tattoo was. Nothing identifiable like a panther or someone’s name—just a strange design.
Someone bumped into me, and I stumbled forward. A bevy of women moved between us, and when the tatted guy headed toward the door, I cut through the crowd and followed behind him.
“Excuse me!” I yelled out, hoping to ask him if he knew Jennifer.