Excerpt
Something to Prove
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
