When Devils Sing(92)

Sam nodded, her freckled face grim.

Neera was on her feet and out the door before she realized what she was doing. She was running toward Grant’s home in the thunderstorm. Just as she reached the back door, Sam caught up to her.

“Neera,” Sam yelled above the rain. “Stop!”

But Neera was barely listening, barely aware of the other girl at all as she banged on Grant’s door. She struggled with the knob, desperate to push the door open. Desperate to get inside. Desperate to demand answers from Grant.

Because it was his fault Ajay was dead.

Grant had Ajay killed.

“He can’t get away with this,” Neera screamed, fists still hitting the door. She kept pounding the doorframe, over and over again, until Sam grabbed her wrists, then pulled her close in the rain. Neera struggled against her for only a moment before she succumbed to her fury—her grief.

In Sam’s arms, Neera allowed herself to cry.





SAM


38 HOURS

BEFORE DAWN THE next morning, Sam awoke nestled in bed beside Neera. For the briefest of moments, she forgot about last night, and reached out to brush a loose strand of black hair from Neera’s face. As Sam’s fingers hovered near her cheek, she froze.

Neera deserves better than this, Sam thought bitterly. She deserves better than me.

The little vial Jack had given her still sat in her backpack, a twisted reminder of their new bargain. Even worse, Sam hadn’t yet decided what she was going to do.

To spike Kiran’s drink felt like more than a gamble—it would be a death sentence. Sam looked at Neera then, still and sleeping. Wiley had taken so much from her already. Was Sam strong enough not to do the same?

The sun was beginning to rise once she slipped out of the pool house that Saturday morning. She’d left a note on the coffee table but didn’t wake her to say goodbye. Guilt hung heavy over Sam as she walked down Grant’s driveway in the rain, though it was only a light drizzle now.

At the end of the drive sat Clayton’s old truck, idling.

“Thanks for comin’ to get me,” Sam said once she was buckled within the cab.

“Sure,” Bailey said, navigating through Lake Clearwater’s manicured winding roads. They were at the gates when she finally asked, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Sam shook her head. She kept her gaze trained out the window as the rain persisted. Carrion was all lush green and gray skies as the flatland welcomed the storm. “Just take me home.”

27 HOURS

NOT EVEN GALE-FORCE winds could close the Tavern’s doors that late afternoon. Tourists and Clearwater residents alike crowded the room, watching a live baseball game on the TVs while the storm of the summer raged outside. Sam could barely hear the thunder over the obnoxious drunken yells from those watching the game.

“Jesus, I’d rather be home,” Sam groaned as she clocked into work, greeting Kiran at the bar.

“You and me both,” she said a little sadly as she shook a silver shaker glass.

Neera’s mom wasn’t exactly the friendliest coworker, though she was her favorite. She had a no-bullshit way of speaking that Sam always found refreshing. But even through the woman’s tough veneer, Sam could sense something was off with her.

A man cleared his throat behind Sam, sending her head swiveling.

“My usual, if you’d be so kind,” Grant Langley said as he approached the bar, leaning his elbows lazily against the counter. He held a smirk on his sun-kissed face, a wry sort of look he seemed to reserve for Kiran alone. “The weather got you down, Kiran?”

Sam tried not to acknowledge Grant’s presence, pretending to be occupied with her phone.

“I’m doing just fine, Mr. Langley,” Kiran responded as she poured gin into a glass. She behaved in stark contrast to most of the Tavern’s employees, who all but kissed the ground Grant walked on whenever he made an appearance.

Sam didn’t care about ass-kissing, either, even if he was the owner of the Tavern. But it didn’t matter in that moment anyway—Grant’s eyes only saw Kiran.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Grant said, leaning a little farther across the bar. “I’ll admit, I was concerned after I heard what happened between you and Neera. I didn’t take you for the type of parent to kick the kid out. Never seemed your style.”

A vein pulsed on Kiran’s forehead, her whole body noticeably going rigid. “What goes on between me and my daughter is none of your business.”

“Oh?” Grant feigned concern. “Do you even know where Neera is?” He gestured to the storm pounding against the Tavern’s windows. “In weather like this, no less.”

Sam couldn’t be sure, but Kiran looked as if she wanted to punch him.

“Tell Jason I’m taking my fifteen,” Kiran said to Sam as she moved from around the bar. “And run those drinks over to table one for me, will you?”

Grant laughed at Kiran’s retreating back and then reached behind the counter, grabbing an expensive bottle of brown liquor and three glasses. He then joined his buddies across the room, sliding into a seat beside them as they cheered at the TVs.

Sam glanced at table one and froze. Jonah Langley sat among his buddies, enthralled in the baseball game playing across the Tavern. She looked between the Styrofoam cup with Kiran’s name written on it and the tray of drinks. The vial from Jack felt heavy in her server’s apron as her decision became clearer.