I go back to the first one, noting the design. “T-taurus?” I whisper, moving on to the neon. “And …”

“It reminded me of Elle’s apartment.”

He’s right. “What about the lime?”

His eyes shine as he looks at it, but I can only look at him. “Arlie, Ever, and Tommy tell me that’s your usual at Lethal Poison.”

“You do know Arlie is working with Luther, right?”

St. Clare shakes his head. “It was all a ploy. After Danvers shot you, she didn’t hesitate to take him and Luther out before dealing with your injury.”

The speckled bits of memory I have from the event rearrange themselves and make a whole lot more sense that way. I glance back at the final charm. “And the gun?”

But I already know the answer. Even as he swallows hard and I watch the way his throat bobs with it. “That one’s for me.”

In the history of ever, I have no words.

“Margot put it together this time. If it’s covered in snot and tears, blame her. She couldn’t stop crying.”

But my bottom lip is shaking, and my eyes are all misty, and I have no idea if it’s covered in any of that because it doesn’t matter. I’m about to get snot and tears all over everything myself. “I guess we have that in common,” I manage, voice all squeaky as I try to suppress the building emotion in my chest.

St. Clare stands up, lips meeting mine in the sweetest, gentlest kiss he’s ever given me. I’m not sure if I’m crying or laughing, but it doesn’t matter because I can blame this moment on the painkillers later.

If I was given the chance to go back to the day I walked into Lethal Poison looking for a job and do it differently, I wouldn’t. I’d make the same shitty choices again and again and again.

Because everything in between was worth it.

Just to know St. Clare.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

ST. CLARE

I needed to get away from Perry.

He’s been on strict “no sex” orders for weeks now, and that man is tempting me. Every time I touch him or he touches me, there’s a deep fire between us that won’t go out. I’ve jerked myself almost to blisters, not that it helps. I need him.

It also doesn’t help that during his recovery, he’s been clingy as hell. Normally I’d love the way he always has to be touching me, but when a light breeze is enough to get me horny, waking up to his ass cradling my morning wood is too much.

With him almost recovered, I’m angrier than ever that he went and got himself shot.

The knock on my office door sets my teeth on edge.

“Come in.”