“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Gideon asked, his eyes scanning me.
“I’m okay, really. Besides, Frank didn’t look concerned.” It was barely evening, and I was still too wound up to think I’d actually be able to sleep. A euphoric sense of freedom was rising through me with the knowledge of Xavier’s death. I had a few good hours before exhaustion eventually got the better of me. “Better sneak a little celebration in while we can.”
Gideon and Kaige headed upstairs, and Wylder came with me into the lounge room. The gun at my back, the new pistol he’d given me after I’d had to throw away my other one earlier today, chafed at my skin. I set it on one of the stools, put Anthea’s purse down on the counter, and went around behind the counter to eye the bottles lined up there.
“Any preferences?” I asked.
“Hmm?” Wylder said distractedly, dropping into the next stool over.
I leaned across the bar to poke his arm. “The booze? Remember?”
“Something that makes me buzzed,” he said, finally snapping out of whatever thoughts he had been caught up in. “That’ll do.”
“Vodka then,” I said. “With a little rum to even it out, and a few splashes of this and that.” I started setting glasses out on the counter.
Wylder smirked. “It would be better if I got to taste it off of you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Since when do you speak Kaige?”
Wylder just kept smiling. “You’ve changed me in more ways than you think.” He paused, his gaze traveling over the glasses. I’d put out five. “Are we expecting Anthea?”
I paused before looking up at him. “I guess we could be. She said she’d be back soon. But I was thinking of Rowan, actually.”
I started to put the fifth glass away, but Wylder stopped me. “No, pour one for him too. I know he’s not here to celebrate, but he was equally responsible for our win—and for saving you.”
“He has made a habit of rescuing people.” I picked out the best brand of vodka on offer and poured a dollop into each glass, including the last one. “For Rowan.”
Before I could move on to the other ingredients, Ezra sauntered in through the doorway. I stiffened at the sight of him. He was dangling a bottle of whiskey from his hand. When his gaze caught on us, he stopped in his tracks. The frown on his face deepened. “What are you doing in here?”
Wylder turned to face his father. “Celebrating. Want to join us?”
Ezra didn’t look like he was in a festive mood. His eyes were clear enough, but his face was flushed and his mouth set at a sour angle. I suspected he was at least a little drunk. He took a couple of steps toward us, his gaze sliding between me and his son. “What the hell should we be celebrating for?”
“We took out Xavier for good and ran the Storm out of town,” Wylder said. “Paradise Bend is ours again with no challengers.”
Ezra took a long swig of the amber liquid. “Mine. Paradise Bend belongs to me. I’m still in charge.”
“Yes, of course,” Wylder said.
“Don’t you dare use that tone with me,” Ezra said. In a split second, he’d reached to his concealed holster and brought out a gun. He kept it pointed at the floor, but my nerves set immediately on edge. “I see what you’re trying to do.”
“Dad, put that away,” Wylder said, calmly but firmly.
“You think I’m so gullible that I don’t see what you’re trying to pull?” Ezra hissed. I saw him note my gun where I’d left it on the stool on the other side of the counter, too far away for me to reach. My fingers itched for it. He shot me a cold smile and then focused on Wylder again. “You figure you can steal my empire from under my nose while I sit back and do nothing? Well, you can forget about that, son.”
My heart lurched in my chest. I had the feeling that it’d only take one wrong move, and he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot us.
“Dad,” Wylder said, getting up carefully from his seat. “You’ve got it all wrong. I wasn’t doing it for me. It was for all of us—for the Nobles. I was doing my duty as your son and heir, protecting our empire.”
“My son is dead,” Ezra said. Wylder flinched at his words. “You’ve undermined me at every turn. Even today, you gathered my men and tried to antagonize them against me.”
I would have guffawed at the absurdity of that accusation if Ezra hadn’t been in such an unstable mood. He was the one who’d constantly undermined Wylder and worked his underlings against us. Wylder hadn’t said a word about his father when he’d rallied the Nobles to fight Xavier.
I eased closer to the counter and set my hand on its polished surface next to Anthea’s purse. There was no way Ezra would suspect I had a gun in there, it was so small. I tucked my fingers through the opening, brushing the pistol’s surface and sliding it into my grasp. Just in case.
“I was doing what needed to be done,” Wylder said, an edge creeping into his voice as he no doubt had some of the same thoughts I’d had. “Someone needed to go up against Xavier—someone had to get everyone organized to defend the city. It isn’t my fault that you decided that was all my job and washed your hands of it.”
“It was all your fault to begin with,” Ezra snarled. “Getting in with this slut and then allying with the Claws as if they could hold a candle to our power. But that was all part of your plan, wasn’t it? Leverage as many men as you could against me and then with me out of the way, and you thought you would have the throne. Well, who’s holding the gun now? Do you think if I was weak I could do this?” He brandished the pistol at us.