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“A little? It’s a flood.”
Stafford’s laugh rings out in the hallway, but it’s sharp and tense. I can feel the stress from inside this raunchy bathroom. “I’ll keep in touch.”
The back door I entered through shuts. From the sink, I see two dark figures exit the alley. There is a tentative knock on the bathroom door, and I swing it open, sucking in the greasy air. It might as well be the breath of the gods at this point. Caleb shoves me out of the way, gasping. Usually, Stafford would say something witty, but he’s silent, eyes looking around nervously.
“Thank fucking fuck. We all know you don’t last that long, guy.” It’s shouted by a man who is waiting in a very long line for the bathroom as he shoves past us and slams the door.
Stafford ignores him and escorts me into his office, quietly locking the door behind us. When he starts pacing, I know something is wrong.
My eyes follow him, back and forth, back and forth. Eventually he paces to his desk and pulls out two glasses with a dark bottle. Without asking me he pours a few fingers of whiskey into both and hands one over. He drowns his immediately, refilling the glass to the brim.
“You’re making me anxious.”
“It would seem your reputation precedes ya, lass.” His statement offers no indication of an explanation.
I down my drink. “Do you care to elaborate?”
“A few big fish have been in this week.” He pauses, tapping his knuckles on the edge of his desk and avoiding my gaze.
“They have jobs?”
“These aren’t the kind of people who simply hire ya for a job, Jo. They have people for that.”
“Then what do they want?”
“They’re askin’ ‘bout an item.”
“Cryptic,” I sigh. “Did they happen to say what?”
He hesitates, clearly not wanting to tell me.
“Spit it out, Staff,” I growl.
“They’re lookin’ for a book. Say it has some symbols on it. Say it was stolen. They wouldn’t tell me anythin’ more, but there’s been chatter.”
“What kind of chatter?”
“I think it’s time we have an uncomfortable conversation, Josephine.” The use of my full name is unsettling. This is serious.
I sit. “Okay.”
He sinks down into his office chair and crosses his feet on the desk, steepling his fingers.
“I know ya don’t appreciate small talk, so I’ll get right to it. I always figured whoever was after ya back then still would be. I’m sure they were expectin’ a full house when they showed up. Is there anythin’ ya haven’t told me?”
I shift uncomfortably. My stomach is falling out of my ass like a lead pipe. “What are you insinuating?”
“I have no intention on givin’ ya up, lass. Even under the worst circumstances. You can trust me. Did Killy or Kate ever give ya anythin’?”
I want to balk at his statement, but really Staff and Viv are the only people I could ever trust. Bella by proxy. As for stuff given to me, there are a few of Killian’s shirts slung into a duffel bag in the back of my closet. It’s not worth anything to anyone except for me.
“I came here with nothing, Stafford.” I give him the same courtesy of using his full name. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“Nothin’. Nothin’,” he says quickly, trying to recover the conversation.
It feels like we’re at a standoff. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Kate was a witch.”
