Eric didn’t speak.
“Got that?” Eli prompted.
“Sure,” Eric said. “Do I have to tell her about the text from Freddie?”
“Yes, actually,” Eli answered. “But let’s save that for later, when the both of you are back home.”
Eric’s expression was glum. “Okay,” he said, drawing the word out to twice its normal length. “She’s gonna freak. She’ll probably send me away to boarding school or something. Or ground me again. Carly will probably start dating some other guy and I’ll be SOL.”
Shit out of luck.
Eli chuckled at that. “Don’t borrow trouble, kid,” he counseled. “You’ll run into plenty without even trying.”
As they reentered the restaurant, the band was tuning up, and Carly was onstage, microphone in hand. Her proud parents, Cord and Shallie, sat at a nearby table, flanked by friends, all of them beaming up at her in happy expectation.
Eric gave his uncle one last rueful glance and went to join them. He and Carly had gotten off to a rocky start, since Carly apparently didn’t go for guys with criminal tendencies, but once Eric had straightened out, they’d gradually started spending more and more time together.
At last, Eli got a chance to speak to Brynne.
“I’m just here as a friend,” he joked, raising both hands, palms out.
Brynne smiled. “That’s too bad,” she said.
Eli was once again thoroughly taken aback. He couldn’t think of a damn thing to say—nothing sensible, anyhow.
“Looks like you’re on duty, all right,” she observed, taking in his uniform.
“Yep,” he agreed, loosening up a little now. “Took time to polish my badge for the occasion, though.”
That smile. Dear God, it should have been registered somewhere, if not as a lethal weapon then at least as an unfair advantage.
“I’m impressed,” Brynne said, and that rattled Eli even more than the smile had because he didn’t know if she was serious or pulling his leg. “Surely you can stay long enough to eat something and hear Carly sing. She’s really very good, as you probably know.”
Eli flung a glance toward the daughter that might have been his, but wasn’t. “She’s amazing,” he said. Then he turned his full attention back to Brynne, which was a semi-reckless thing to do, given how good she looked. “No time, I’m afraid. I’ve got to check something out.”
“Something to do with Eric?” Brynne asked, raising one perfect eyebrow.
Her lips glistened with a transparent pink gloss of some kind, and she smelled like wildflowers.
“Sort of,” he replied.
“Which means you can’t talk about it,” she guessed, smiling again.
“It’s no big deal,” he told her, hoping that was true. “Don’t go ruining your evening by worrying about it.”
“Can you come back at midnight?” Brynne asked.
The sudden change in subject matter surprised Eli. “I will if I can,” he said. He didn’t make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep, even small ones. “Right now, I’d better get going. I left Festus in the SUV, and he’ll be getting impatient—not to mention cold.”
Without a word, Brynne picked up a paper plate and began adding small bits of dog-friendly food to it—a tiny square of cheddar cheese, a few cocktail wieners, random party nibbles.
“These are for Festus,” she announced, covering the plate with a paper napkin. “Feel free to help yourself if you’re hungry. I suppose you’re probably used to eating in your car.”
Eli thanked her, reached for his wallet.
“Put your money away, Sheriff,” Brynne ordered. “Tonight, supper’s on the house.”
He took the offered plate—Festus would be overjoyed—and snagged half a roast beef sandwich for the road.
“Don’t forget,” Brynne reminded him. “Midnight.”
CHAPTER SIX
WHEN DAN SUMMERS answered the door at his ex-wife’s place, he pretty much filled all available space. Built like the proverbial brick shithouse, this former navy SEAL and erstwhile FBI agent stood well over six feet tall, and he must have weighed close to three hundred pounds—all muscle, no fat.
He was Black, with a shaved head and, under the right circumstances, a ready smile.
Tonight, the white dazzle of that smile made Eli blink.
“Bro!” Dan boomed. “What you got to tell me so important you go bustin’ in on our party?”
He liked using street vernacular, even though he had a law degree and provided security for some of the wealthiest, most sophisticated people on the planet. During his hitch in the navy, he’d completed SEAL training, legendary for its difficulty, in one try, and gone on to train other men and women before his second hitch was up. After that, he’d gone to law school, graduated and promptly decided, according to Melba, that he’d rather fight clean.
Inside the house, a chorus of girlish voices gasped in unison at some development in a kids’ movie—probably Frozen 17 or something like it.
Eli smiled at the thought of his niece in there with her friends, having a good time. She was safe here, with Dan around and, later, Melba. Safer than she would be at home.
“Come out here, will you?” Eli said. The volume on the TV was high, but he didn’t want to take the chance of being overheard.
Dan lumbered out onto the porch, ducking his head slightly as he passed through the doorframe. “Man, it’s frickin’ cold. I hope you’re not planning on givin’ an oration.”
Eli chuckled, albeit grimly. Then he told his friend, as concisely as he could, about Freddie Lansing, the trouble he’d gotten in last year, Eric’s involvement and, finally, the threatening text his nephew had received earlier.
Dan gave a low whistle of exclamation and rubbed his huge hands together. “That little bastard tries to hurt any of these kids, tonight or any other time, I’ll crack his empty head like a walnut.”
“You going to be in town awhile?” Eli asked, shivering himself. According to the most recent weather report, there was a Chinook coming—Chinook being a native word for an early thaw, but the temperature seemed to be stuck at fifteen degrees.
“Depends on whether Melba kicks me out or gives in to my manly charms,” Dan answered, grinning. “She divorced me for having a dangerous job. Now that she’s a deputy sheriff herself, I might be able to talk some sense into the woman. Get her to take me back. We ought to be raisin’ our kids together, man.”