Sin & Salvation (Demigod of San Francisco #3)(15)

“Had to dig out those last two dollars,” Mick grumbled. “Those Kerry men are as tight… If the Titanic were that tight, it wouldn’t’ve gone down, boy! They’re that feckin’ tight, boy.”

I knew he meant tight-fisted. Clearly the huge discount he had already gotten wasn’t enough. He’d wanted to stop at paying thirty.

I pushed it out of my mind as we crossed the street, hurrying in front of an approaching car. This was the moment of truth. We’d left the bar, and we were moving slow. It would be easy for the woman to follow us, and just as easy for her to catch up and engage. I was pretty sure we could take her, but what if she had left the bar earlier to organize reinforcements?

A horn blared, making me jump. I turned around just in time to see Mick stagger out of the way of the oncoming car, nearly clipped by the bumper. “Ah, ya cheeky fucker, ya,” he mumbled before pinging off the front of one parked car and then the back of another.

He stepped up onto the curb but hadn’t lifted his foot high enough. His toe hit cement and his weight pitched forward. He slammed into a parking meter.

“Ya feckin’ ol’ bag!” he hollered. I wasn’t sure if he knew he’d hit an inanimate object.

Bria laughed as I caught movement near the bar.

The door slowly swung shut. There wasn’t a soul in sight, though there was one on my radar. Whoever had just walked out had slipped into the shadows at the side of the building.

“She’s out,” I whispered. “I can’t be sure it’s actually her, but who else would it be?”

“It’s her,” Bria said quietly before stubbing her toe and jogging forward to catch her weight. “She nursed that one beer the whole time while listening into our conversation. If it’s Valens, he must be grasping at straws. Clearly he sent a lackey.”

“She’s powerful, though.”

“I don’t know what her day job is, but it ain’t spyin’.”

The soul moved, coming up the other side of the street. I barely kept from looking.

“We’re being followed,” I said, my mouth going dry.

“Okie dokie.” Bria rubbed her hands together as Mick finally caught up to us. “Her efforts are laughable, but being a target is interesting, at least, so let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Why can’t you take anything seriously?” I muttered as my heart sped up.

“Are you kidding? I could write a book on this. It would be called So, you’re being followed. Sub-title: Tips and tricks to keep you alive.”

Mick snickered.

“First thing is,” she said, “and this goes doubly for you, Lexi, because Mick is much too drunk to be afraid—don’t panic.”

“Working on it,” I said. My stomach flipped over. “Crap, I never got a chance to text Kieran.”

“Second thing is, figure out who the primary target is.”

“’S you,” Mick slurred. “She kept lookin’ at ya. Worst spy I’ve ever seen, boy.”

“Shhhh,” I said, making a shut-the-hell-up gesture with my hand.

“What?” he asked, his voice ringing out across the quiet street.

“Third thing is, figure out how the primary target should engage.”

“I thought you said not to engage,” I said, monitoring the soul across the street. The woman was a ways behind us, keeping our slow pace instead of overtaking us. Given the distance, I doubted she could hear anything other than Mick’s random shouts.

“I’m pretty sure I said not to freak out. I really don’t remember saying anything about not engaging. If you’d contacted that lover of yours, then we’d know for sure. As it is, I’ll have to make an educated guess.”

“No, no.” I pulled out my phone. “I’ll text him right now. See look: spy came to the bar. She’s now following—”

“It’s good. I got this.” Bria rolled her shoulders and veered around a sidewalk sign a business had left out.

“Liquid courage,” Mick said. “Just tell me where the—what da fuck?”

A loud crash made me whip around, just in time to see a fallen Mick pulling the sidewalk sign down on top of him. He lashed out, swinging a wild fist, missing the object directly above him.

“Good call, waiting for him,” I said, risking a glance at the other side of the street.

A flicker of movement caught my eye, but I didn’t dare look harder. I could feel her there, waiting. Watching.

“Let’s get moving,” I murmured.

“Yup.” Bria ripped the sidewalk sign away from Mick and put out her hand to pull him up. “Let’s split up.”

“Terrible idea,” I said, my thumbs flying across the screen of my phone. “You’ve had a lot to drink. You’ll make poor decisions.”

“I had a lot to drink so I wouldn’t make poor decisions, actually. It’ll muddle my cat-like reflexes. Now I’m down to her level while pleasantly buzzed. It could be worse.”

The person moved, creeping a little closer. Nearly within earshot. “Where do you live, Mick?” I asked a little louder than necessary.

Bria cocked her head, clearly picking up on my signal. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then shrugged. “Still can’t feel her,” she whispered.