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Eve.
    The assholes started grabbing their crotches and moaning, “January.”
    Beckett followed the direction of their lust. Two drunk guys were being handsy with Frankentits, and now security arrived in the form of Eve/January. She wore a version of the bouncers’ gear: short daisy dukes, red heels, T-shirt, and a bowtie. The men had Frankentits backed against the bar, and a crowd had formed around them. Eve confidently used a barstool as a stair. She hopped onto the bar and waltzed along as if it were a sidewalk.
    She kicked one drunk’s head like a soccer ball, and he went down with a thud. The other looked up past the miles of legs to her face, beautiful even when angry. The assholes in front of Beckett groaned and stood on their chairs to get a better view. The music ground to a halt.
    “That dude’s going to die. She’ll kill the fuck outta him,” one said to the other.
    Eve slid off the bar and had a knife to the man’s throat, but she’d started to smile. “Offering me money? What’s this? A dollar? Did you think I would take my top off?”
    The drunk nodded.
    “Eat your dollar.” Her eyes sparkled.
    The crowd started to chant “Jan-u-ar-y!” over and over.
    Beckett stood on a table to watch her. The drunk did, in fact, eat his dollar.
    The bouncers from the front door had made their way to the ruckus. Eve nodded as the men removed the drunks. She had no comforting words for Frankentits. She just slipped her knife back in her hair. The crowd clapped and whistled at her. She had no reaction.
    As the cheers faded away, Beckett kept clapping. A slow, mocking cadence. “Hey, January!” he called. “What do I have to do to get you all up in my business?”
    Eve stopped, her back to him. There was a low mumbling in the crowd. No one had ever dared taunt her, of that Beckett was sure. He jumped off the table. “How about this?” He swiveled and cold-clocked one of the assholes in front of him, who was still holding his penis.
    She faced him, looking furious, which made Beckett angrier. He gave the other asshole a three-punch combination. He, too, went down like a sack of rocks. She stood glaring at him as he closed the distance between them.
    “I leave you to start a life, I live without you, and this is my replacement? You’re a freak for them to cheer about?”
    She closed her eyes. He was being cruel, and he knew it.
    “January? Do you have such a taste for blood that you couldn’t walk away from it? You’re that much of a fucking vampire?” He was close enough to touch her now. But he didn’t.
    The crowd was paying attention. Beckett figured she was an enigma to them. The most beautiful chick in the world, doing a man’s job in a strip club. He would love it if he didn’t hate it.
    “They’re mocking you, January . They’re not really afraid of you. You’re as much of a show as that piece of trash.” He pointed to the stripper onstage.
    She opened her eyes. “You know what? This is what I do. If you’re trying to shame me, you’re wasting your breath. I never killed you—that’s enough shame. Go, Beckett. I don’t want you. Don’t come back.”
    Eve turned and exited through a door behind the bar.
    Beckett just stood there, wiping his mouth. All the wrong words had come out.
    Eve, please be next to me, ’cause I don’t think I can stand on my own.
    Eve, be with me, because at night I shake and only your warm skin can heal me.
    Eve, don’t leave, because I have nowhere else to go.
    After a moment he followed her, with no one making a move to stop him. Above the club there was a crappy hotel. He heard her heels hitting the last step and knew where to go. From the skeezy hotel’s hallway, he imagined her silhouette dancing across the sheers in her room. Her shape would be sharp, the light soft. She’d pace, agitated—probably steaming mad, actually. Beckett bit his lip and cracked his knuckles. He needed to taste her.
    He didn’t bother knocking. He didn’t call to her. He