It smelled like Corb, like spice and a little bit of honey, maybe. Something sweet for sure to offset that sharp man smell. Damn it, that kiss had shaken me. But it had been play acting. I knew that. Right?

I shook it off and drove downtown, parking as close as I could get to Factors Row.

Tucking the keys into my front pocket, I pulled out the bundled-up towel, cradling it under one arm.

The sound of people, cars, and the river rattled along as if nothing had happened last night. Strange how they could just keep going when we’d all barely averted disaster.

I saw Jinx long before she saw me. “Jinx, are they still here? Should I even bother knocking?”

The spider spun around and dropped to the cobblestones, scuttling across to me a little faster than I would have liked. She stopped about ten feet out from me. “Yes, for now. I think they are leaving tonight.”

I nodded. “Thanks. And thanks for the help too. You were spot on.”

“Of course I was.” She sniffed at me and flexed her fangs.

I made myself walk past her to the boarded-up door of 66 Factors Row. I rapped my knuckles on the wood. “Hello. Returning merchandise. I don’t know if I can get a full refund, or if I have to take store credit? I would prefer a refund seeing as store credit wouldn’t work since you’re a bad guy and all.”

The door pulled open to reveal Feish as pale as I’d ever seen her. I locked eyes with her, and she slowly lowered her face. “He is sleeping.”

A slow smile slid over my lips. “Good.”

As I walked by her, she lifted a hand and, at a look from me, dropped it. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

That stopped my feet. “What?”

“You’re the first friend I've had in a long time, and those that the Boss was dealing with . . . they are bad news.” Feish lifted her eyes to mine. “I thought you would leave if he changed the time, and you almost did.”

A sigh slid out of me. “We almost got killed because of him.”

She covered her face with her webbed hands and a gurgling flowed from her that I realized was tears. I mean, it was beyond pitiful, and I do not have a heart of stone. I reached over and hugged her, and she all but collapsed into my arms.

“I get it, Feish. I screw up all the time. It seems to be a gift of mine. But this was not your fault.” I patted her back.

Slowly, she stood under her own power again, her yellow-green skin mottled now with little blue flecks. “You . . . are we still friends?”

I thought about it for a moment. “Feish, his mistake is not yours. Okay?”

“You are sure? I am belonging to him,” she whispered.

Gawd in heaven, I hated that. “Look, I will do my best not to get you into trouble with your boss.” I smiled.

Her head swiveled and she looked toward his chamber. “You’re still going to wake him up, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “Maybe you just stepped out for a bit? Didn’t see me come in?”

Her eyes lit up. “Good idea. I will be at Death Row if you need me.”

In a flash, she was gone, and I walked toward Crash’s bedroom. The door was heavy, and it took me pushing with all the strength I had left—which wasn’t much after the previous night—to get it open enough to slip through.

I stood on the far side of his bed, so he couldn’t grab me like he had the last time and fling me against the wall. The bedroom was once more lit up with candles, and the sheet was again pooled around his waist which showed off a portion of tattoos. Damn him for looking yummy even when he’d turned out to be the bad guy. I tried not to think too much about how he’d kept Hattie’s attention, so I could get Eric away. I didn’t want to give him credit where it might have just been him being him. “Crash.”

Nothing.

The bundled-up towel in my hands felt heavy. I lowered it to the bed. “There’s a note in with the knives and the belt. But I’ll say it now because I need to.” I took a slow breath and let it out even slower. “I refuse your deal. You have my four hundred dollars, which we will call a rental for this last ten days for the weapons and the belt that holds them. I’ve cleaned the knives and the leather, and there is no damage to them.”

Still nothing from the body on the bed. In the shadows, I could see that his head was partially covered by a pillow, and the sheet had pulled down to his waist, showing off that broad back of his that practically rippled with muscle that drew my hands like a bee to pollen. I sighed.

I really had to get these hormones under control.

I took a step back, and he moved.

“I do not allow returns,” he mumbled from under the pillow.

“Piss off. I don’t want them,” I snapped. He didn’t move anything but one hand. Palm up, he crooked a finger at me.

I laughed at him. “Um. Much as I would rock your world, if you were so lucky, Crash, I think that’s a terrible idea. Terrible. Awful. Worst one in a long time. You’re on one side of the shadows, and I’m on the other.” That last bit? Yeah, that last bit was something I’d heard my Gran say more than once.

There are two sides to the shadow world. The side that lay in true darkness, and the side that protects the darkness from the light. I now had a better understanding of what she’d meant.

He finally lifted his head, sleep still trying to keep its grip on him. “You cannot return them.”

I let myself sit on the edge of the bed. “Crash, I wanted to like you. I even thought we might be friends. But you made a knife—knowingly—out of demon steel. You had to know that it wasn’t for any good purpose. And then you gave the knife to Hattie, when I’d told you she wanted to kill Eric!”

God in heaven, how could he not see that was a problem?

“That is what I do,” he said. “I am the blacksmith.”

I twisted where I sat. He had propped himself up on one elbow. Damn it, he really was luscious. I should not be lusting after the guy who was on the wrong side of the shadows. I made a face for myself as much as at him. “Look, nothing I can do about your moral compass, okay? But I can keep mine working. Which means you keep the knives.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Damn it, Crash!” I yelled.

“It is far more complicated than that,” he said. “You drew blood with them both, you’ve killed with them. They are marked to you now and would not cut for many other people. Which makes them useless for me to take back. Hence, no returns.”

He was more and more awake; I could see it in his eyes. “You’re a jerk.”

“I am honest. Occasionally that makes me the bad guy.” He reached out and took hold of my wrist so fast, I didn’t see him even move.

With a swift yank, he drew me to him until we were nose to nose. One fingertip traced the side of my face. “You are very interesting, Breena O’Rylee. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so intrigued.” The heat of his fingertip was doing really wild things to my insides, cranking up the heat as though I were the forge and he knew exactly how to light my fire. In fact, I was sure he did. And that was the thing. Men like him were dangerous. In all the wrong ways.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move if I’d wanted. So, I did the next best thing. I used my mouth. Not that way, get your head out of the gutter. “My gran warned me about men like you.”

His lips quirked up. “What did she say?”

“She told me to kick them in the balls and run for the hills.”

He burst out laughing, his smile like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. I didn’t know if it was whatever magic he had, or just him. I was betting on a combo of the two. But I tried to pull away from him anyway.

I thought he’d try to hold me, but he let me go. I scrambled back across the bed, the remembered sensation of his body pressed against mine still very much felt on every inch of my skin, hot and wanting.

Damn it.

“Take the knives.” He lay back. “Or I’ll just throw them in the forge and melt them down to nothing. And you still owe me for them on that last bounty.”

My jaw flapped. “You really are an ass.”

But I scooped up the knives, unable to believe they could just be melted into nothing, and strode out of his room, followed by his low chuckle that continued to tug on parts of me that I hadn’t noticed for the last ten years with Himself.

A few weeks in Savannah, and I was like a raging hussy.

I would have slammed the bedroom door shut if it had been possible, both out of annoyance toward him, and myself for my reaction to him. But it was too heavy, and I had to settle for the satisfying screech it made as I slowly shut it.

And that was how I ended up with two knives, two men who were maybe somewhat interested in me, and a job I actually loved in a town I loved even more.

Forty-one suddenly wasn’t looking so bad.