SILAS

The whiskey had stopped burning somewhere around the third glass.

I lifted the fourth anyway.

The bar was quieter than most places I could have chosen, which was the point. Dim lighting, expensive drinks, people wealthy enough to know when to mind their business.

Usually.

“Excuse me?”

I looked toward the two women standing beside my table.

One of them held her phone against her chest while the other smiled nervously.

“Are you Silas Blackwood?”

I glanced at the phone before meeting her eyes again. “Yes.”

Her smile widened. “Can we get a picture with you?”

“Not tonight.”

The disappointment on her face was immediate, so I added, “Sorry.”...