leg through his chest.
He looked away when he caught my gaze. I made sure the message was
unmistakable. To my satisfaction, he whispered to the woman that it was time
to leave.
While Savannah examined the selection of whiskey behind the bar, I
looked around and made sure that every drooling male in the place got the
same message: Don’t look. Don’t touch. Or else.
19
Savannah
I didn’t recognize a single whiskey on the rack. That wasn’t too
surprising, considering I’d grown up in Belmont and learned to drink at a bar
that had well and Jack as its only two options.
Everything about this place felt like it had been torn from another time.
The perky bartender returned with our Manhattans, served up in long-
stemmed coupe glasses with a couple of black cherries.
I took a sip. The silky-smooth flavors melted in my mouth—herbal spice,
with rich oak and a hint of underlying sweetness. “Oh, my God, this is good.
Best I’ve had.”
Jaxson gave me a grim expression. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate
competition for Eclipse. He turned back and leaned on the bar. “We’re
supposed to meet a friend. The Viper. Is she here yet?” When the bartender
hesitated, Jaxson slowly put four more fifties down. “I’ll probably keep an
open tab.”
She licked her lips, then took the money. “In the far back. Table by the
early-twentieth-century horror section. Lovecraft and such.”
I twisted so I could see. A single woman about my age sat way in the
back. She had bobbed brown hair, black jeans, and a broad gold necklace.
She was reading a book with an almost menacing intensity, and no one was
sitting anywhere near her, despite the happy-hour crowd.
“Thanks.” Jaxson took his drink and headed through the bar, and I