Free The Siren by Elicia Hyder

prepared for worst case scenario.”
    “You’re going to make me cry again,” I warned.
    He shook his head. “No more crying.” He squeezed my shoulder. “I also want you to know, if something does happen to me, you should stick close to Nathan. He knows about what you can do and the weight it brings. He’ll take care of you.”
    My mouth fell open. “Are you seriously giving me your blessing to be with Nathan if you die?”
    “Hell no.” He laughed. “If you end up with him after I’m dead, I’m going to haunt the shit out of both of you.”
    “You promised you’re going to come home to me,” I reminded him.
    He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Always.”
    I crumpled a little in my seat at the thought of a world without Warren in it. Even in such a short amount of time, I realized how completely dependent on him I had become. Being with Warren was like needing to breathe oxygen. Considering the migraines, I was beginning to wonder if it was even physically possible for me to go on without him.  
    I reached over the side of the boat and cupped a handful of cool water. I splashed it on my face and laughed. “Geez, I’m going to need to get off this boat and do some serious drinking.” I flicked the rest of the droplets onto his face.
    “I could get on board with that plan.” He sat up straight and craned his neck to see over the people in front of us. “Hey, Nate!”
    Nathan turned to look at us.  
    “We did your girl’s boat ride. After this, my girl wants to go to a bar!” Warren called out.
    Nathan smiled and gave us a thumbs-up.
    * * *
    An hour later, we were at Durty Nelly’s Irish Pub. Nathan and I were drinking beer, Warren was drinking straight whiskey, and Shannon was sipping a cosmopolitan that had seemed to offend the bartender to make. Thank God she had taken off her ridiculous hat because it might not have fit in the crowded room. We were huddled around a small wooden table near the bar that backed up to a piano where a man was singing Irish drinking songs.  
    “Anybody else think it’s weird to have a bar this Irish next to the Alamo?” Nathan asked, holding up a napkin with a bright green shamrock on it.
    Warren laughed, and I looked around at them confused. “Who fought at the Alamo?”
    Nathan’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling like he was searching his memory.  
    Warren pressed his lips together as he stared at the back of the piano.  
    Shannon’s head fell to the side. “The British?”
    I shook my head as I finished the last of my second beer. “That’s definitely not it.”
    “You want another one?” Warren asked, nodding to my empty glass.
    “Please,” I said and gave him a peck on the lips.
    He stood up and walked to the bar.
    Nathan was still thinking. “Davy Crockett was there, but I’ll admit I only know that because of the Disney movies.”
    “Maybe we should tour the Alamo tomorrow and find out!” Shannon shouted over the music.
    I leaned back in my chair. “I was thinking about going to that really pretty Catholic church we passed down the street on our way to the hotel.”
    Nathan’s head tilted in surprise. “Are you serious? I didn’t know you went to church.”
    “And you’re not Catholic,” Shannon said.
    I shrugged. “I have a theory I want to explore.”
    “What kind of theory?” he asked.
    I drummed my hands on the table. It was sticky. “I want to see what someone there can tell me about angels.”
    Nathan’s eyes widened, and he straightened in his seat. “Really?”
    “Angels? Why?” Shannon asked.
    “I’m just curious.” It wasn’t a lie. “I have some questions.”
    Warren placed another frosty mug of amber beer in front of me. “Questions about what?” he asked.
    I looked over at him as he sat down with another tumbler of Jameson. “I was telling them I think I might go by that cathedral we passed earlier today and see if I can talk to a priest or something about angels.”
    “A priest.” He nodded his head. “That