I was on edge. I glanced down at the truck’s clock. Jake had been inside too long. What if something had happened to him in there?

I picked up my phone and pulled the business card for Frost Security from my pocket, and thought about calling. It would take them, what? An hour, hour and a half, to get here from Enchanted Rock? And that was if they could get moving right away and sped the whole way.

My eyes seemed to travel of their own free will to the pistol sitting on the dash. I knew how to use it. Pops had been sure to teach me everything about firearms I’d ever possibly want to know before he passed.

I rubbed my hands on my denim-clad thighs and gritted my teeth.

What if something had happened in there? What if they had taken Eve? Or they were working with those Denver Mafia types?

The short time I’d known Jake flashed before my eyes. Not just him standing out in the cold shivering, either, or how close we’d been in the kitchen. But the way he’d offered himself up to help me find my sister. The way he’d broken into that guy Kevin’s apartment, bending the law so maybe I could have a chance to fix my family. And the way his hand had felt this morning, the way he’d bobbed his head to the music.

The way he helped people.

I swallowed hard and shook my head.

No, too damned long.

I opened the car door and grabbed the 9mm off the dash as I climbed out. I released the clip, checked to make sure it was fully loaded, and slapped the clip back in. I double-checked the safety, stuffed it down the back of my jeans, and readjusted my winter coat. If something was actually wrong, I was going to need the element of surprise.

My teeth chattered despite my layers of clothes, and my palms broke out in a sweat despite the cold winter air. My heart hammered in my chest and my breath came faster. I was about to walk into a biker bar to retrieve some guy I just met, with a pistol stuffed down the back of my pants, the barrel rubbing against my ass cheeks.

I took a deep breath, and tried to hold and control it. I didn’t want to freak out any more than was necessary.

I started walking. The snow and gravel crunched under my boots as I stomped across the nearly empty lot to the front entrance. I pulled open the heavy metal door and went inside, my eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dimness as I looked around.

Damn, this place was a dump.

No wonder Eve kept coming back here with her boyfriend. She loved places like this.

“Cheap drinks, sis!” she would have said, then let loose a “Whoo!” as she downed two more shots on some random guy’s tab.

The bartender, a scruffy-looking biker type with a long beard, looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

“Hey,” I said as I headed towards him, catching his eye. “You!” My voice came out more high-pitched than I wanted, almost approaching a squeak. I swallowed hard. “Guy come in here earlier? Black hair, black beard, flannel shirt?”

“Lilith?” the guy asked as he looked harder at me. “What the fuck are you doing here? I thought you was gone, girl!”

I stopped in my tracks, my mind racing, my hands still damp. He knew Eve? “There was a guy who just came in here. Where is he?”

“Wait, hold on.” The bartender shook his head. “You ain’t Lilith. Who the fuck are you?”

I pulled up the back of my jacket, just like dad taught me. I reached back, caught the gun’s grip, then pulled it around and held it in both hands. Elbows bent and shoulder level, just like Pops taught.

The bartender looked blankly at me, just blinking as he looked down the barrel of Jake’s 9mm.

“Not saying it again.”

He raised his hands slowly, letting the towel drop to the floor.

“Where. Is. He?”

“In the back. With T-Bone and Spike, couple of the other boys. I heard a ruckus back there, but you know me, I steer clear of this shit.” He paused and shook his head.

“Who the fuck are they?” I asked, advancing a step towards him, but having enough sense to keep my distance, even with the adrenaline pumping through me.

“Sorry, that’s right. You don’t fucking know me.” He laughed nervously. “But I swear, lady, whoever the fuck you are, I just meant good by it.”

“You meant good? What does that even mean?”

Before the bartender could answer, though, the yelling started up in back.