Groaning, I sit up and blink a few times. I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol last night, yet I still feel like I got run over by a herd of angry hogs.
The knocks come a little quicker, followed by a muffled voice calling my name.
Rooster?
No, he’s supposed to be up north somewhere.
I hurry to the door, but check the peephole quickly to confirm it’s him.
“Rooster!” I twist and yank on the knob, so eager to see him, I can’t get the door to open.
“Shelby?”
“Give me a minute!” I stop my frantic tugging on the handle and realize the deadbolt’s engaged. I twist it and fling the door open. “What are you doing here?” I slam into his chest, loop my arms around his neck and jump up to kiss his cheek.
He wraps his arms around me tight, lifting me up. “Missed you too much.” His lips slam into mine. Something rustles against my behind but I’m too busy trying to get closer to him to figure out what it is.
He pushes into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.
“I missed you,” I whisper between kisses. “A lot. Really a lot.” I don’t even know what I’m saying, I just need him to know how happy I am that he’s actually here.
“Missed you too.” He sets me on my feet and thrusts a bouquet of peach roses at me. “Congratulations. So proud of you.”
Pleasure warms me all over. He stopped somewhere to buy roses? I grab the flowers and promptly stick my nose in them, inhaling their sweet scent.
“You watched?”
“Hell yeah. I wasn’t going to miss it.” He brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “You looked really pretty.”
Tell him how badly you wanted him there with you.
But I can’t seem to force out the words. Rooster already does so much for me. Has given up the last few months of his life to travel with me. I can’t guilt him into doing something I know he’ll hate just because I’m too insecure to go without him.
“Jiggy gave me shit all night,” he says in a low voice.
“You made him watch too?”
“Made him,” he scoffs. “Like anyone can make that asshole do anything.”
I search the room for something to put the roses in, finally landing on the ice bucket. “Why’d he give you a hard time?” I ask over my shoulder.
The warm wall of Rooster’s big body closes in behind me. He runs his finger over my shoulder. “For not going with you.”
“What?” The metal bucket slips from my fingers, clattering onto the desk.
He grips my shoulders and turns me to face him. “I should’ve been there with you.”
“No.” I shake my head, willing the quiver in my voice to vanish. “I can’t ask you…you hate that kind of stuff. It’s a lot. I understand why you—”
“Shelby.” His serious tone draws my attention to his face. “I knew those kinds of events were part of the deal. What Miranda said got to me. I don’t ever want to bring you bad attention. That shit that went down in Tennessee was fucking awful and that was my fault—”
“No, it wasn’t. I wanted to go. It’s—”
“I should’ve been watching everyone in that place a hell of a lot closer.”
“Logan, you’re not responsible for everything.”
He hesitates.
Tell him.
“I missed having you there, though,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to guilt you into going with me next time or anything.” I shrug, helpless to come up with an explanation. “It felt like a piece of me was missing. And I wanted to tell you all this little stuff. Share the whole experience with you. I’m sorry. I know you don’t care about those things and you’d hate it.”
He moves in closer, backs me up against the desk and curls his arms around me. “I’ll be with you at the next one.”
“The next one is the big one. The one that really counts. It’ll make last night look like a toddler’s birthday party.”
He snorts. “I don’t care. I’ll blend into the background. As long as I’m with you.”
“I’d really, really like that,” I whisper.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.” I can’t help it, I have to ask. “But what about you? They’re going to keep writing crap. Eventually your club might get brought into it.”
“I have a feeling Sippin’ on Secrets won’t be around much longer.’ He shrugs. “The rest of it we’ll handle as it comes up.”
My selfish little heart is so happy he’s here, I don’t bother to ask what he means.
Chapter Sixty-One
Rooster
Shelby’s half-asleep, using my arm as a pillow. At first it was sweet but now my arm’s falling asleep. Slowly, so I don’t wake her, I roll to the side. My phone dings and I pick it up off the nightstand.
Ice: Done.
There’s only one thing that could mean.
Me: Thank you.
Martin Suggs won’t be sending another letter.
Should I tell Shelby?
The decision’s made for me when my phone rings.
Jackson.
“Yeah?” I answer as quietly as possible. Shelby still moans and rolls over.
“I figured you’d want to hear this right away,” Jackson says without any other introduction.
“What? Don’t you dare tell me Suggs made bail.” I should at least try to act like I don’t know what he’s about to tell me.
He pauses. Good, maybe he bought the innocent act.
“No. Martin Suggs was found dead in his cell this morning. Hanging from his bedsheets.”
Way too easy for him. I should’ve specified to Ice it needed to be bloodier.
“Holy shit. Are you sure?”
“Oh, I’m sure. I can send you photos if you want.”
“That’s all right.”
“Tell Shelby I’m sorry. He took the coward’s way out. Then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less from him. But she deserved to see justice done.”
I’d argue justice was done and Shelby’s been spared having to relive this over and over for the next few years. “Do you need to talk to her?”
“No, you can give her the news. Have her call me if she has any questions or if she needs anything.” Almost as an aside, he casually asks, “Where are you now?”
“On the other side of the country.” Damn good alibi if you ask me.
“That’s not why I was asking. The media will be all over the story. She might want to lay low.”
“I’ll handle it. Thanks, Jackson.”
“You’re welcome. Take care.”
Shelby’s sitting with the sheet wrapped around her. Her bottom lip trembles with fear as she watches me set the phone down. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
No point in sugarcoating it. “Suggs is dead.”
She closes her eyes and releases a slow breath. A single tear slips down her cheek.
“Don’t cry for him.” I swipe the tear away with my thumb.
“It’s not for him. It’s for me. I’ve been trying not to think about it but it’s always there in the back of my mind. That fucking creep. I’ve wished him dead a thousand times. Then, he sent my mom a letter—” She stops abruptly and tilts her head. “Rooster, you didn’t have anything to do with his…”