I wheel around. The sapphire-eyed devil stands in front of me, looking at me down a long, straight nose. The suggestion of a smirk on his thin lips argues that he’s amused.“What the…?”“Beer first, questions later. Life’s uncertain.” He gestures to the bartender and takes the stool next to mine. “Scotch. Oldest you got.”I glower at him. “I remember you. France. 1914.”“You owe me one Ben Franklin.” He smiles but doesn’t meet my glare.“I want you to stay away from that girl. Stay away from Leah.”“And what if I don’t? You’ll do what? Kill me?” His eyes glide to mine, and the rich tone of his laughter sings over the chatter.“Just like you killed them, if I could.”He studies me from under hooded brows. “Who?”“The couple at the bar.”“I didn’t touch them,” he answers, curling his upper lip and spitting each word through clenched teeth.“You were watching them, left when they did, and you were seen with them right before they died.”“So?
