"Thank Christ." Del Dempsey, a viper in a tank top, grimaced as she unhooked two glasses from beneath the bar and hit them up with a generous helping of the good stuff. "When I saw you walk in back then, I thought you were the other one."

Downing the shot, sliding the other over to him, Del inclined her head towards the bottle, a silent bid for a refill. Raven necked the brandy, a hiss sizzling past his clenched teeth, before throwing out the go-ahead to top them both off.

"Talking 'bout my brother?" Of course she was. Stupid question, but it passed the time, and that was something he...