Whiskey slid down my throat, caustic, welcome. Another followed. If I kept drinking, I wouldn’t have to process Nate expressing gratitude for my magic. And I surely wouldn’t answer with a smile so big it would be like asking him to shoot me.
“Aren’t we an intimate little group of killers.” Jim matched my alcohol intake, to little effect.
Nate gave the smile I hid. “Doesn’t count if they aren’t human.”
“Ever stop to think about the monsters who might seek to avenge those deaths?”
“We have now.” I nodded to Nate. “And he’s the roadmap to take them out.”