Tilting my head to the side, I avoid her eyes. “She’s left me a few messages. They’re back together,” I whisper. “He’s still doing what he was before.”
Her mouth hangs open. “Her and him are back together? Our brother is a fucking dumbass.”
“Yeah. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink, huh?”
“Sullivan, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.” It’s the only thing I can say. The only thing I’ll allow myself to say on the matter.
“You can’t let what happened with her fuck you over for life,” she counsels me. “I mean, look how happy I am now.”
My eyes sweep over her face. There’s no doubt, she’s happier right now than I’ve seen her in years. Given what she’s been through – losing a baby, a marriage, and then meeting Cutter and moving here – she deserves every bit of joy she has. “It looks good on you.”
“It looks good on you too. You should let Shelby in.”
Rocking back on my feet, I roll my eyes. “It’s not that simple. We have a lot of chemistry, but it’s never gone deeper than physical.”
“Only because you won’t allow it to go deeper. Open yourself up, bro. Life waits for no one. What if you lose your chance?”
It’s a thought that crosses my mind more often than I care to admit. With the job I have, the times we live in, every day I go to work might be my last. I’m hyperaware. “I know.” I pull a peppermint out of my pocket, before opening it and slipping it into my mouth. “I’m doing my best.”
Her eyebrow quirks. “Are you? Are you, really?”
My radio chooses that moment to squeak. Saved by the fuckin’ bell. “I gotta go.” The adrenaline is already starting to run through my blood. It’s part of why I love being a cop. Since the first hit of adrenaline I got with the job, I’ve never been able to give it up. Probably never will.
She reaches out, hugging me tightly. “Be careful, love you.”
“Love you, too.”
My feet beat a cadence against the sidewalk as I move toward my patrol car. There’s a lot of traffic on the radio, and I’m trying to figure out what’s happening.
“Possible domestic at thirty-five sixteen Laurel Court. Neighbors are reporting a large amount of yelling, and a crash. At the very least, they’d like there to be a welfare check.”
“Do we know who lives there?” I ask, as I back out of the parking spot, flip my lights and sirens on, before driving toward the address.
“Property lists to Frank Gentry and wife. Doesn’t show as a rental, assuming this is who you’re going to find.”
The name rings a bell. Other officers have been to this address a few times before. The wife hasn’t ever wanted to press charges, though. Within minutes I arrive, Renegade is pulling up beside me with a squeal of the tires.
We each get out of our patrol vehicles. “How do I know this guy?” I ask. I’m still not completely sure where everybody belongs in Laurel Springs, especially when it comes to familial relations.
“He’s the grandson of Widow Haley.”
The other day at Shelby’s office hits me like a brick. Mrs. Haley had been there to talk to her about something. I wonder if it entailed her grandson. As we approach the front door, I can hear them screaming at one another. Nothing that I can make out, but enough to give me an idea they aren’t done with their argument. Using the butt of my flashlight, I bang on the door.
“Laurel Springs Police! Open up!”
The noise inside the house immediately comes to a halt. I eye Renegade, he eyes me back. Usually when things get very quiet, stuff can go wrong quickly.
“Laurel Springs Police! Open up!” I knock again.
I’m counting the seconds until I’ll send a message to dispatch, asking if we can make entry to check welfare. I’m not the most patient in situations like this. My skin literally feels as if it could peel off my body. Right as I’m about to knock again, the front door opens and a man stands there, a blank look on his face.
“Can I help you?”
“We got a phone call that there might be a disturbance here. I need you to come out of the house. Who else is in there with you?”
“My wife.” He gives me a smarmy smile. “We were having an argument. Normal married shit, ya know?”
“Not married.” I give him a smirk back. “So I don’t know.”
“He does.” He points to Renegade.
Ryan rocks back slightly. “Can’t say Whit and I ever got the cops called on us, Frank.” He does his best to keep his tone neutral.
“Don’t have to when you’re the police in this area, huh?”
Ryan and I exchange a glance. “Can you come on out?” I indicate him stepping over the threshold of the door with a finger. “We need to make a report since we were called.”
His mood shifts quickly. “A report? Who the fuck called?”
“Someone who was worried. We can go over that later, but we need to verify your wife is okay.”
There’s a taut ribbon of tension between us. All my radars are going off, and it’s obvious he doesn’t want to speak to us about anything. Too bad that isn’t going to fly with me.
“She’s in the bathroom.” He leans against the door frame, acting like he has all the time in the world.
“Can you go get her for me? I can’t leave until I check on her.”
His eyes narrow and his jaw tightens.
“If you don’t, I’ll see her another way.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m not leaving here until I verify she’s okay.”
After doing this job as long as I have, you become very good at reading people. I’m reading him as being irritated that I’m still here.
“Montana!” he yells, not turning his head away from me, which means he screams right in my face. “This damn cop won’t leave until he sees you’re fine.”
“You’re used to intimidating people, aren’t you?” I smirk.
“Most everyone I meet knows who I am.” He shrugs.
I refuse to give this asshole the satisfaction. “I’m new in town.” I cock my hip out to the side, placing my hand above my firearm. A little tip I learned my first year on the force in Paradise Lost. To most it gives the appearance of not caring, but for me and any other officer, it projects a we mean business attitude.
“Then you’ll have to let me introduce myself to you once you ascertain my wife is very much okay.”
“Lookin’ forward to it.”
He goes to shut the door, but I wedge my booted foot in before he can. Our eyes meet, and if looks could kill, I’d drop dead right here. Instead of saying another word, he turns around, presumably going to get his wife.
Renegade takes a spot behind me at my shoulder. “He’s always had too high of an opinion of himself.”
“Seems like he might need someone to take care of that for him.”
Before we can talk anymore, a woman about my age is pushed through the front door.
“My wife,” he bites out on a grimace. “Since you wanted to make sure she was okay, officer.”