Page 49 of Bitter Spirits

The young woman was staring out the window, her face pale, her hands knotted in her lap. “Not yet.”

“Hey.” Isa’s sharp voice had Kelly turning to her, eyes wide. “Enough, Kelly. I know you’re scared, and you have every right to be, but you did nothing wrong.”

With uncharacteristic bitterness, Kelly snapped, “I killed him, Isa.”

“In self-defense,” Isa shot back, refusing to let the other woman see how much it hurt to push this. “You think your mom, me, Des, Cass—any of us—would rather be attending your funeral right now?” Kelly blinked, her mouth forming a small disbelieving oh, but Isa refused to back off. “You didn’t start the argument. You didn’t hit him. You walked him home, and he attacked you. His choice, Kelly. Not yours.”

“He was wasted.” Guilt trapped the girl in her corner.

Not about to let her get stuck there, Isa said, “And whose choice was that?”

Tears welled in Kelly’s eyes, and she pressed her lips together. She dropped her gaze to her lap, where her fingers were twisted together so tightly her knuckles were white. “I should’ve just got out.”

“You tried.”

Tears spilled and trailed down Kelly’s cheeks.

Isa softened her tone. “And when that didn’t work, you did what you needed so you could get away. You have the right to defend yourself, Kelly. Especially when your life is at risk—and it was.”

Kelly gave a hesitant nod.

Isa sighed, knowing it would take time and tools for Kelly to work through things. Since she had no idea what those tools were, she made a mental note to give Kelly’s mom the number of a therapist who had worked with some of Wonderland’s after-hours clients.

The rest of the short ride passed in quiet, each rider caught up in their own thoughts. By the time Des pulled up in front of Wonderland, Isa was sick of hers. They kept tangling up in useless circles. She exchanged subdued goodbyes with Kelly and an abbreviated one with Des that included another annoying reminder by him to set the security wards. Then she was free, at least momentarily. She could feel Des watching her cross to the building, undo the security, and slip inside. As soon as the door closed, she reset the damn wards. Only then did she hear the faint rev of Dev’s engine as he left.

She checked the time and hurried down the stairs to the main floor. The delivery would arrive at any minute. She made her way across the bar’s main floor by rote, barely taking the time to flick on the lights above the drinking well before pulling up the inventory spreadsheet on her phone and shouldering through the door to the kitchen. She hit the kitchen lights, and the fluorescents stuttered to life. Blinking her vision clear of white dots, she made a mental note to have Des check the overhead bulbs. She double-checked a couple of items on her list, verifying that the numbers were right, then headed to the dented metal door at the back of the space that led to the service elevator. It was the one thing she, Cass, and Des had agreed to sink money into when they’d taken over the bar. In this part of downtown, the streets were narrow, and with Wonderland’s main structure sitting at basement level, having an elevator that opened into the alley was the easiest way to get deliveries without going up and down the steep stairs in front. She hit the button, and it flashed red in warning.

Shit, right.

She reset the security ward to Standby, irritated all over again with the over-the-top requests from the males in her life. When the security light went to a steady blinking orange, she jabbed the button again. This time, the door slid open. She rode it up to street level and got out to wait at the curb. A boxy white paneled truck proclaiming Spirits and More was turning in to the alley.

Perfect timing.

The truck made its way over and lumbered to a stop. The driver got out and came around, his hat pulled low, his sunglasses dark, and his smile white against a tawny, weathered face. “Hey, afternoon. Got a delivery here for…” He checked his phone. “Wonderland?” He looked up, his smile notching up a bit. “Says to ask for a Des Ward or Isa Serrano. I’m guessing you’re Isa.”

“You guessed right. And you are…?”

“Mitch.”

“Nice to meet you, Mitch.” She started for the back of the truck, letting him fall in beside her. “Is Georgie off today?”

“Yeah, he’s currently riding the waves of the Caribbean. Anniversary thing with the wife.” They got to the rear of the truck, where Mitch unlatched the ramp, pulled it into place, then shoved up the rear door. “Hey, thanks again for being so flexible. I hope I didn’t mess anything up for you.”

“No, you’re good. Just glad we were able to connect.”

They stood inside the back of the truck, going through the order, stacking items on the handcart, loading them into the service lift, and then doing it again. There was a bad moment when it looked like a scotch order was missing, but fortunately, Mitch found it buried near the back.

He added it to the other boxes, his grin a little rueful. “Sorry about that. Must have set it over there this morning to get it out of the way and forgot to move it back.”

“No harm, no foul,” Isa said, checking off the last of the order on her spreadsheet as she followed him down the ramp.

They got to the elevator, and Mitch set the last of the boxes next to the others. He shifted his handcart back out and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Okay, I think we’re good. If you could just sign here.” He turned the phone to her, and she initialed the receipt. “Thanks.”

“Welcome,” she said as he started to turn away. “Enjoy your afternoon.”

“You too,” he called with a wave.

Isa waved back then hit the button. The elevator’s door slid closed, and it made its way back down. After setting it to hold its open-door position, Isa started hauling the wine and beer to the walk-in cooler. During one of her many back-and-forth trips, she tied her phone to the Bluetooth speaker they kept in the back, queued up her favorite playlist, and let the music fill in the space. It made restocking less of a workout and more of an enjoyable time-out.