Page 36 of Demon On Deck

Kallie looks up mid-conversation and gifts me with a stunning smile, waving me over. But it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. That same anxious, creeping worry stirs in my gut.

“Hey, Doll,” I say when I reach her. She stands on her tiptoes as I lean down to kiss her. Kallie kisses me back… but it’s restrained. Careful.

Maybe it’s because Mel is here.

Maybe I’m overthinking things.

Maybe it’s all in my head.

I force myself to shove the feeling down. This isn’t about me; this is about Kallie.

“Hey, Honey.” She says softly. Then she turns to her sister, who is watching us with a kind of scrutinizing focus that screams she would happily commit murder to protect her sister and have zero regrets about it.

“This is my sister, Mellodie. Mellodie,” she says, turning to her sister, “This is Evren.”

“Mel, please. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says, standing and extending her hand. I take it, noting the strength of her shake. It’s sure and confident, sending the unspoken message: “Do not hurt my sister.”

“You as well,” I say as we break and sit. A waitress comes by to drop off menus and take our drink orders. Kallie fidgets slightly next to me. I lay a hand on her thigh and give her a gentle squeeze, trying to reassure her.

She glances up from her menu and gives me a small smile.

“Calm down, Kallie, this isn’t the Spanish Inquisition,” Mel says teasingly, making Kallie groan.

“Excuse me for being paranoid. You have a history.” Kallie arches an accusing eyebrow at her sister.

“One time,” Mel says with an accompanying eye roll.

“That you admit to.”

Mel snorts, “Where’s your proof?”

“Tommy Baker,” Kallie says flatly.

Mel throws her hands in the air. “Tommy Baker was a tool who was trying to win a bet with Brian Turner! That little shit would have coaxed you into blowing him to win twenty bucks. He deserved the nut check I gave him and then some.”

A low growl tears out of me before I can stop it.

Both sisters snap their eyes to me as I slowly pull air into my lungs, fighting the sudden urge to hunt down this Tommy Baker and make him cry blood.

“Apologies,” I say, voice dropping several octaves into something dark and dangerous.

Mel’s lips twitch, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “Oh, I like him, sis.”

I relax a fraction as Kallie laughs, shaking her head. The waitress returns, dropping off our drinks and taking our orders.

For the next hour, conversation flows shockingly well. Mel vets me with surgical precision—where I’m from, my parents, my business, my intentions. I can tell she’s weighing every word, every reaction.

And I get to see just how much she and Kallie adore each other. The teasing. The shared stories. The comfort.

It should be perfect. But something is off.

Kallie laughs. She touches me. She engages.

But she’s distracted.

Her phone gets checked. And checked again. And again. She jumps every time it vibrates. Her smile falters too quickly.

I try to tell myself it's nothing, it’s just business, but my instincts are screaming there’s something wrong.