Chapter Twenty-Nine

Lorcan held his hand out like a proper gentleman, and Kierse stared down at it in question. Did he think that they were somehow friends here? He and Graves might be in a cease-fire, but she wasn't about to forget that he had tried to kill her and her friends and had just kidnapped her.

He dropped his hand. "All right. No handshakes. It's good to finally meet you."

"Is it?" she asked.

"For me at least. Not for you?"

She shrugged. "It's nice to put a face with a name."

"My apologies about the circumstances, but it was imperative that we meet." He had a light Irish accent. Not as thick as Declan's but just enough to make him sound foreign.

"Why is that?"

Lorcan just smiled, gesturing to a back table that was set with beautiful silver dishes. A bottle of wine was already open, with a generous pour of the red in each glass like blood set before a vampire's feast.

"I'm not exactly dressed for dinner." In fact, she was wearing workout clothes and sneakers. Her hair was in a ponytail. She barely had on a lick of makeup. This place was a five-star location, probably Michelin-starred in the times before. She hardly fit in.

"Ah. Luckily, the owner won't mind," he said cheekily. Then he saw that she was still staring blankly at him. "I think we... got off on the wrong foot."

"You think?" she asked. "You tried to kill me."

"A miscalculation. You're perfectly safe with me."

Why did men always say that? As if they thought that women would believe them. "You have a funny way of showing ‘safe' after kidnapping me."

"An invitation," he amended.

"With armed guards," she said. "An invitation you could have delivered yourself."

"Graves's reach extends through much of Manhattan. It was better for us to speak in Brooklyn, on my property. This way, I can guarantee we won't be interrupted. But after we have dinner, I will have my people return you safely wherever you choose." He pressed his hand to his heart. "I give you my word."

Kierse wavered at the threshold of the restaurant. She didn't want to have this meal with Lorcan, but she was curious about him and all the reasons he and Graves hated each other. He appeared earnest in his resolve to return her when he was done, but she wasn't pleased with the circumstances.

"I realize that your word is valuable." It was a guess based on the arrangement he had with Graves. Lorcan nodded. "So if you go against it, I will kill you."

He laughed, loud and effortless. A man accustomed to laughing. So unlike her. So unlike Graves.

"I would expect little else," Lorcan said.

She nodded. "So, I'll eat, but don't ever do this again."

He bowed his head once. "Next time, I'll come myself."

She rolled her eyes but followed him to the table. Lorcan helped her into a chair and took the seat across from her. That was when the memory hit her. "Gregory Amberdash frequents this place."

Lorcan tucked his chair in. "Ah yes, he is a client of mine."

"He mentioned it in passing once."

"That sounds like him." He whipped out his napkin. "He loves the lamb, which is, coincidentally, what is on the menu tonight."

"Amberdash is a wraith. He doesn't eat lamb."

"Wraiths can eat human food. It just doesn't nourish them," Lorcan countered.

Kierse grimaced. She did not want to think about that.

"And he worked with you?"

Lorcan gestured to her. "He was the one who gave me your name."

"Wonderful." Well, that explained the cryptic warning. Part of her should have anticipated Amberdash double-crossing her, but they'd known each other for so long that it still hurt. "So, why me?"

"I was looking for someone who could break into Graves's house. Amberdash offered me a few unsuccessful candidates before we decided on you. If it makes you feel better, he seemed unwilling to offer you until all other options ran out."

It didn't.

"Doesn't that go against your arrangement with Graves?"

"It toes a line," he conceded.

"And why would you try to kill me after I got into the house? Doesn't that seem counterintuitive to your plans?"

"You walked out the front door. I believed you were compromised."

"But you don't now, when you know I'm living there?"

"Oh, you certainly are," he said with a wide smile, giving away nothing. "Do you like cabernet sauvignon?"

He swirled his wine around the glass and took a sip. He gestured for her to try her own, but she'd barely eaten anything since the party. She wasn't sure wine was the right choice to start with.

She reached for the water instead. Fresh green salads and a basket of bread were placed before them. He picked up his fork.

"Not wine, then," he said. "Hopefully the salad is to your liking."

She stabbed her fork into the salad with relish but didn't eat.

Lorcan sighed and set his fork down. "This is the point." His tone softened. "I'm making conversation. I want to get to know you."

She leaned her elbows against the table, bucking etiquette. "Why?"

"I was wrong about you. When I saw you walk out the front door of Graves's house, I believed that he had gotten to you, that you were working together, or even that Amberdash had set me up. I didn't want Graves to have a new pawn. I admit that I'm sometimes rash when it comes to Graves. But you and I are not enemies."

She wanted to ask him why he was so rash with Graves. She had so many questions. Things that Graves had merely scooted around nimbly, like a too-clever fox. And here was Lorcan, willing to feed her information. But at what price? She needed to tread carefully. Lorcan may seem like an easy mark, but anyone who went head-to-head with Graves must be able to play the game.

"If you say so," she said instead, leaning over and taking a bite of the salad.

Her necklace hung forward over her meal. Lorcan made a small noise in the back of his throat. "What bird is that on your necklace?"

She glanced up at him and was certain he already knew the answer. "A wren."

His answering smile was all teeth. "Really? Wrens are such beautiful birds."

She shot him an exasperated look. "Are you going to tell me about how they're all killed the day after Christmas, too?"

"I see Graves has been feeding you information," he said with a knowing look in his eye. "Wrens are a sign that spring is near. The end of winter. The seasons are turning and all that."

"And then they kill them for sport."

"Well, not anymore. It's mostly just a party now," he said, taking another sip of his wine. "But I bet Graves found that necklace very interesting. As do I, little songbird."

She kept her hands carefully at her sides, when all she wanted to do was tuck the necklace away.

"Now, eat. You look like you haven't had a meal in weeks."

Which was absurd because, before the wish-powder hangover from hell, she'd been eating better than she ever had in her life. She chalked it up to the sickness and decided to eat. She took a bite and then another and another. What was with the food with these men? How did they make a salad taste this good?

"It's goat cheese from my home farm and fresh raspberries."

"How did you get raspberries in the dead of winter?" she asked, plucking another one from the salad and indulging. Both he and Graves had them. Money was the answer.

"We all have our secrets," he said with a gleam in his eyes.

When they finished their salads and Kierse had gorged herself on the warmest, crustiest bread in existence, the main course arrived. As promised, it was a lamb shank in a fragrant sauce with brown-butter mashed potatoes on the side.

"Tell me about yourself," Lorcan went on. "What do you like to do for fun? Your hobbies? Your taste in music?"

She considered his play. She'd thought he'd be gruff and arrogant. That he'd dismiss her, attempt to recruit her, and then try to kill her if it didn't work. Or at the very least warn her that Graves was a bad, bad man, wagging a finger and all. Except... he wasn't doing that.

"Why do you want to know about me?"

"I can't find a beautiful woman interesting?" Lorcan asked.

She leaned forward and fluttered her eyelashes. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"You know you're beautiful. And beyond interesting to have survived this long on the streets with your level of skill."

"You're a charmer," she teased.

He laughed again. He made it look so easy. "If you find me charming now, wait until dessert. I won't ruin the surprise, but it's my favorite." Lorcan took another bite of his lamb and finished chewing before speaking again. "Well? Your interests?"

"You first," she said, taking a bite of the most succulent meat she'd ever tried.

"I enjoy long hikes through the woods and across the moors. I love sailing and fishing on clear days and, when it rains, huddling in a gazebo with nothing but my guitar. I enjoy festival days and rituals and farmers markets. I confess that I'm easy to please," he said, setting his fork down. Those blue eyes looked straight through her. "What about you? Are you easy to please?"

The question was loaded. He wanted to know about her. Yes. But he wanted more. He wanted to know if she was poachable. If he could convert her to his side with kind eyes and warm smiles and delicious food. She decided to go along with it and see where it landed her.

"I like... training," she said with a shrug.

"That's work," he said, waving her off. "What do you do for fun?"

"For fun," she said softly. "I admit there hasn't been much fun to be had."

"Surely you enjoy something other than thieving and training."

She looked down, playing up the role of the innocent victim. "I guess I like babka from a Jewish bakery across from the Met."

"Babka?" he asked excitedly.

A small smile came to her face. "Cinnamon babka. It's the best I've ever tasted."

"You must give me the name. I will become a patron of their establishment." He leaned in. "What else?"

"Well, I like spending time with my friends." She frowned as if just remembering where she sat. "The ones you tried to kill."

"Again. I was wrong. I'm sorry about the misunderstanding." He held up his hands. "Can you forgive me?"

Fat chance.

"You're going to leave them alone?"

"My interest rests solely with you, my dear."

That wasn't a promise, and they both knew it.

"Please continue," he encouraged.

"I like brandy," she confessed. "I got a taste of it at sixteen, and it feels like the thing to drink when you've accomplished something."

"I have an impressive brandy collection. We'll have it over dessert," he assured her. "Tell me more."

"Well, really, I just like pickpocketing unsuspecting rich people."

He snorted. "You should get out more. If pickpocketing the wealthy is your idea of fun, I could show you a really good time."

And though they were both playing parts, she believed him. He didn't act like the villain that she had painted in her head. He didn't feel bad at all. She was sure it was a ruse to get her to let down her guard, but he just... didn't even seem dangerous. Yes, she knew he was dangerous. He'd tried to kill her. He was in a feud with Graves. He was a gang leader, controlling the entirety of Brooklyn. All of those things should have read like a giant warning sign: Danger. Keep Out! Except she didn't feel that way.

Their empty plates were whisked away, and dessert was revealed to be a stunning cinnamon bread pudding with a creamy vanilla-bourbon sauce to pour on top with the promised brandy as its accompaniment. She'd only taken a sip before deciding it was the nicest brandy she'd ever tasted.

"Thank you for a delightful dinner. Open invitation to Equinox whenever you like. On the house," Lorcan said.

"Why? What even is this place?"

"It's my restaurant. ‘Equinox' means balance, and balance is an important concept for me. I try to apply it to my life, the seasons, my food. So, three days a week, I open the restaurant to the poor and hungry. Free hot dinners for whoever shows up. And the next three days, I open it for the wealthy and privileged of our society. Those who want to run their businesses and have their meetings outside of the prying eyes of their peers." He smiled at her, completely guileless. "I provide a much-needed service. All above the books. Balance."

How often had she so desperately needed that hot meal? How many times had she gone hungry without anything in her stomach at all? Too many to count, but it didn't change the fact that he was likely playing her, telling her exactly what she wanted to hear. He might do some good deeds, but they didn't erase his hand in all of this.

"Why do you hate Graves?"

His lips lifted. "He didn't tell you?"

"I want to hear your side."

He considered her for a second, draining his last bit of brandy from his glass.

"We should leave that until next time," he said finally. "You will come back, won't you?"

"I don't know," she answered with a raised brow. What more could he tell her? How much could she get out of him in all of this?

His smile grew, and those cerulean eyes lit up. "How about you give me a call when you're ready? That way I don't have to send Declan."

Lorcan retrieved a business card from his suit pocket and slid it across the table. Kierse took the card in her hand. The heavy off-white cardstock was embossed with his name and number in shiny gold. A small acorn was the only other adornment. She stuck it in her pocket. Could come in handy.

"Maybe," she said. Then she stood.

He promptly stood, too, stepping closer to her as if drawn to her in some way. "I'll have Declan drive you back into the city."

"Perfect." She glanced up at him again, ready to judge his response to what she said next. "I'm going to tell Graves about this."

Lorcan nodded. "Well, I'd expect nothing less. Though it doesn't impinge on our arrangement. Would you say you were harmed?"

"Kidnapped," she suggested, not backing down. Their bodies were so close together. She met his gaze, using sleight of hand to filch his watch while he remained transfixed by her face.

"I'm releasing you." His smile faltered, and he looked down at her with something genuine in his eyes. "Though, I admit, unwillingly."

"You're a shameless flirt," she said, stepping back to diffuse whatever tension he was attempting to create. She slid her hand into her pocket. Such an easy mark.

"A character flaw, I assure you." But he reached out and grasped her arm. "That isn't nice." Lorcan turned her palm up, opening her fingers to reveal the watch she'd stripped off of his wrist. "I think I'll take that back."

That was the second time someone had figured out she was stealing from them. Graves and now Lorcan. Either she needed to sharpen her skills or her opponents were getting more terrifying by the day.

"What gave me away?" she asked curiously.

"I'll tell you next time," he said with a wink as he refastened the watch.

Another trap she had no intention of walking into. The next time would be on her own terms. "I'm leaving now."

Lorcan seemed as if he couldn't quite let her go. "Come back again, Kierse."

She gave him one last look that suggested she just might like that. "Maybe."