Chapter 1

Elizabeth drove up and down Addison, west, then east again, watching the addresses. No matter which way she went, the gray slab of a building had to be the right place. She parked and climbed out of the rental car. Motorcycles leaned against the building—not at the curb, but on the sidewalk actually touching the building.

Why the hell would Dad own a biker bar?

She glanced up at the rusty sign, The Irish Pub. It didn’t look much like anything Irish. She pushed through the door and a cloud of smoke smacked into her lungs. Chicago was supposed to be smoke-free. Didn’t the manager know this? That alone was fine-worthy. Trying to keep her breaths shallow to avoid inhaling too much smoke, she walked toward the bar, hoping to find someone in charge. The room, what she could see of it, was dark and tables were scattered haphazardly.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the manager,” she called out.

“Are you the health inspector?” a grizzled man asked while drying a glass with a dirty cloth. His pasty skin reminded her of a vampire’s, but she doubted he’d sparkle if she took him into the sunlight.

“No, I’m the owner.”

He laughed and the men sitting on stools at the opposite end of the bar joined him. She stiffened. It wasn’t like this was the first time she’d been laughed at, and it undoubtedly wouldn’t be the last. She produced a card from her suit coat pocket and...