by Devney Perry
Dash shook his head. “Just leave it. I doubt it will do any good.”
“But will it hurt?”
“It might. Leave it. Leave him. With any luck, we’ll never have to see the guy again.”
“Okay.” I wanted to help defuse the situation, but if there was a chance I’d make it worse, then I’d take Dash’s advice.
He stood from the chair and walked toward the shop. Dash would go lose himself in a car for a while, then he’d go home to his family and be all right. He paused at the door, his hand on the knob when he glanced over his shoulder. “Happy Birthday.”
“Shh.” I put a finger to my lips.
I hated my birthday, something Dash and the guys knew. Emmett had winked at me this morning but hadn’t muttered those words. Leo had whistled “Happy Birthday” under his breath. Isaiah had brought me a latte from the coffee hut.
“Are you sure you don’t want to celebrate?” he asked. “I’ll buy you a beer.”
“I’m sure. But thanks.”
Dash left me to get back to work, and I treated the afternoon like any normal day. I paid bills. I got started on the month-end financial report. I bid farewell to the guys and locked up at five.
It wasn’t until the drive home that loneliness crept under my skin.
It happened every year on my birthday, and I was surprised it hadn’t hit me sooner.
I missed Scarlett. Today especially, I missed my sister.
Our birthday was something we’d always made special for one another. It was the one day my mother would put us first. She’d make us a cake. She’d spend hours cleaning so the house was spotless. She’d let Dad give us our presents and take credit for buying them even though we knew she’d done all the work.
She’d bend over backward making sure there was nothing that might set him off.
It worked. I couldn’t remember a birthday when Dad had raised his hand to any of us. There were never any bruises or welts to hide the next morning.
My birthday used to be a good day.
Celebrating without Scarlett held no appeal.
I parked in the driveway and took out my phone, sending Scarlett the same text I sent her every year.
Happy Birthday.
There’d be no reply, but I’d sent it into the universe and hoped, wherever she was, that it found her well.
I scooped up my purse and opened my door just as Shaw’s shiny, black SUV pulled into the driveway next door.
“Hey.” He waved after getting out.
I waved back. “Hey.”
He had a backpack slung over one shoulder, his sunglasses in his hair. “How was your day?”
“Fine.” I shrugged, unable to move away from my Jeep and disappear inside. “You?”
“Good.” He waited for me to say more and when I didn’t, he took the first stair toward his porch.
“Shaw?”
“Yeah?” His foot backed down to the sidewalk, like he’d been waiting for an excuse to come closer.
I gave him one. “It’s my birthday.”
He crossed the lawn, a small smile toying at his mouth. “Happy Birthday.”
“I’m ordering pizza.”
“Pizza’s good.” Shaw grinned. “But I’ve been craving carrots.”
I laughed and nodded for him to follow me inside. “I happen to have some carrots.”
Chapter Eleven
Shaw
“Thanks.” I took the beer bottle from Presley.
“You’re welcome.” She sat in the chaise lounge by my side, the hinges squeaking as she kicked her feet up.
“This is a nice yard.” I tipped the top of my bottle toward her lawn, then took a swig.
The grass was green and lush, a carpet as nice as some fairways I’d played at golf resorts. It was almost out of place here in this little neighborhood. Or would have been if her other neighbor’s yard weren’t exactly the same. There was no fence back here, and the grass flowed in a green wave across property lines. Except the green of my lawn wasn’t nearly as brilliant.
“My neighbor on the other side owns a small landscaping company,” she said. “We trade. I do his bookkeeping and he takes care of my yard.”
“Ah.” Tomorrow I’d call Juno and have her hire the guy.
We drank our beers, listening to the subtle noises around the block. A kid laughed. A lawn mower rumbled. Birds chirped. Our two chairs were the only thing Presley had on the square deck that jutted out from the sliding glass door off her dining room.
The evening was warm, and though she’d positioned the chairs in a patch of shade, I was grateful for my white linen shirt and pair of cargo shorts.
Presley was wearing a pair of shorts that, for once, didn’t need a belt to keep them on her frame. They were black and fit tight to the curves of her hips, exposing those mouthwatering, trim legs and golden skin. When I’d spotted her beside her Jeep earlier, my eyes had zeroed in on her legs, stirring my dick to life.
Her shirt was baggy over the shorts, more like a man’s T-shirt than the normally tight tops she wore. If it hadn’t had a vintage pink and orange flower on the front, I would have worried the shirt was her ex’s. She’d tied it in a knot at her side, showing the smallest triangle of skin above the waistband of those shorts.
I was drooling into my beer, feeling like a lucky son of a bitch that I’d come home at just the right moment to catch her. I still wasn’t sure how I’d scored a pizza invitation, but I was taking it.
“It’s your birthday.”
Presley nodded. “Yep.”
“No big plans or a party with your friends?”
“I don’t celebrate my birthday.” Her tone was crisp and cool, that subject closed.
She’d told me it was her birthday but she didn’t want to talk about it. Interesting. I’d play along.
At this point, I wasn’t going to push anything that might make her kick me off her deck. After she’d run out of Stockyard’s last night, I’d figured she was done with me for good.
Dacia’s stunt had been typical, something I should have expected. She’d seen the desire I had for Presley and, since she’d been having a rough day, decided to torment someone else.
As I’d eaten my burger and she’d twirled a french fry in a dollop of ketchup, never actually eating the damn thing, I’d told her that if she ever put her mouth on me again, I’d blacklist her from my social circles and do everything in my power to get her fired from Dark Paradise.
That had shut her up.
Dacia might be a snake, but she wasn’t dumb. She knew I had a broad network of connections in this industry and I was not fucking around.
“Sorry about last night,” I said.
Presley shrugged. “For what?”
“For Dacia.”
“It’s fine.” She took a drink.
I shifted so I could look at her square on. “There’s nothing between Dacia and me. She saw the way I looked at you and decided to play a game.”
“Okay.” Presley kept her eyes forward, but the corner of her mouth lifted.
One of these days, I’d do something to make her smile and laugh. She’d be gorgeous, smiling with no walls in place. “So what was the deal with Leo?”
She sighed, bringing her knees up to her chest. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got nothing to do tonight.”
Presley stayed quiet, something I was learning didn’t necessarily mean she was shutting me out. She was simply careful with her words and cautious with her trust. I respected that. I didn’t trust many with the details of my past either.
“I was engaged,” she said, letting the words hang in the summer air. “Jeremiah decided to break it off with me on our wedding day by forgetting to show up at the ceremony.”
I winced. Leo had told me as much yesterday, but it hurt to hear the pain and humiliation in her own voice. And it still made no sense. Who would leave Presley? What kind of an asshole would break up with someone on their wedding day? What kind of prick didn’t t
urn up for her? “And Leo settled the score with his fists.”
She nodded. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but yeah.”
“Is there, um . . . something with you and Leo?”
“No. Definitely not.” She barked a laugh. “He’s the annoying older brother I never had.”
The air rushed from my lungs. Thank fuck. That hug had been bothering me since yesterday morning. It had seemed intimate, but now that I replayed it again, maybe I’d read too much into it. Maybe it had been a tight hug between friends. Maybe it looked like that when I hugged my sisters too.
“Can I admit that I was jealous yesterday?”
The color rose in her cheeks. “Can I admit I was jealous too?”
My gaze dropped to her pink lips. My tongue wagged behind my teeth, desperately wanting to be set free, but I swallowed hard and tore my eyes away.
This woman was testing the limits of my restraint.
This woman might push me over the edge.
“How was your beer with Chief Rosen?” Presley asked.
“Fun.” I grinned. “He’s a good guy, and I appreciate him humoring me. He told me some interesting stories about Clifton Forge and being a cop here. It was kind of like old times. Turns out, some idiots are just as stupid in Montana as they are in California.”
“Do you ever miss being a cop?”
“Some days,” I admitted. “It was a stressful job, but rewarding. I miss feeling like I do a little bit of good every day.”
I tried to make up for my lack of civil service through donations. Every year I gave money to different inner-city charities, especially those that helped kids.
“What was the best day you had as a cop?” Presley asked.
“The best day? Easy. The day of the school bus.”
“Really?” She sat up straighter and shifted so her knees were aimed my way. “I would have thought it was the hardest.”
“It was also the worst day. I’ll never forget all those crying faces. Seeing that guy with the gun. Those kids . . .” That day, I’d learned what true fear looked like. It had nearly sent me to my knees.
Her eyebrows came together. “Then how was it the best?”
“They lived.”
Understanding dawned on her face and she reached over, placing her hand on my forearm for the briefest touch.
Those kids might have been traumatized, but they were alive. Seventeen lights shining in the world.
“I hear from them sometimes. Or their parents. I have a secret Instagram account under a fake name, and I follow most of them.” Once I’d made my first million, I’d also set aside money to fund their educations. If there was a way I could help them succeed in life, I’d do what I could.
“What happened that day? Can you talk about it? It’s fine if you don’t want to. I can’t imagine it’s easy to relive.”
“It’s okay.” I hadn’t spoken of that day in years, but I had this overwhelming urge to confide in Presley, maybe because I trusted her with my secrets.
I trusted so few people, and it didn’t come naturally.
Presley was . . . different. Special. I looked at her and saw a safe harbor. A vault. She guarded the people at the garage so fiercely that I wanted a sliver of that loyalty too. And she was asking because she wanted to hear it from me, from my perspective.
Most people assumed they knew the whole story from the news. They made assumptions about how it had gone down. So rarely did anyone ask for my point of view.
The last time I’d spoken of it had been with one of my sisters. Becca had wanted to know the details about six months after I’d resigned from the force. Just like Matine and Astrid, she thought it was why I’d quit.
Only Mom, Dad and I knew the truth.
The day I’d quit was also the last day I’d spoken to my father. Something else my sisters were sure had to do with the bus.
“It was just a normal day,” I said. “Started my shift early, right as the sun was coming up. I was on patrol that day and had a new partner, Margaret. It was her second year and she’d just transferred to my precinct. I was the senior officer but we were both young. Want to hear something stupid?”
“Sure.”
“Promise not to judge me too harshly?”
“Oh my God,” Presley groaned. “Did you sleep with your partner?”
“No.” I laughed. “I most definitely did not sleep with Margaret. She was—is—beautiful, but we were definitely not attracted to each other.”
“Okay, so what am I going to judge you for?”
“I was glad to be paired with a female officer because I thought I’d get to show her the ropes. That I was already superior because I was a guy.”
“Yeah.” Presley frowned. “I’m judging you.”
“As you should.” I lifted a hand. “In my defense, I was a closed-minded idiot. But I was an idiot who learned. Margaret taught me a lot that morning, and after the school bus, I started to see things differently. I saw my sisters differently. My mom too. I opened my ears and listened to their opinions, not assuming mine were already right.”
Because Margaret was strong and sure. Because Margaret was brave and balanced. Because Margaret had saved those kids. And because I admired her.
“Still judging me?” I asked.
“A little.” Presley smirked. Some of those qualities I saw in Margaret were staring back at me with vivid blue eyes.
“Fair enough.” I chuckled. “I hired mostly women after quitting the force. My assistant, my agent and my manager are women. Before you ask, I didn’t hire them because they were women. I hired them because they were the best, and I think as a younger man, I wouldn’t have given their résumés a chance. I’m not proud of it but . . . I’m man enough to admit my flaws.”
“Okay, you’re forgiven.” She took a drink of her beer. “So what happened that day on the bus?”
“Margaret and I were driving around. It was sunny and hot already, even in the morning. That’s how I knew something was wrong on that bus. Every window was up. Those buses don’t have air conditioning, so the kids always have their windows down. Kids see a cop car, normally they wave out the windows, especially if they’re younger. You drive by and see all these little fingers sticking out.”
“Makes sense. Did you pull it over?”
“No, it was parked in the lot of a grocery store. Another thing that seemed strange. Full buses don’t park until they’re at school. I was driving and eased off the gas for a long look. This guy was standing beside the driver. The driver had his hands on the wheel, eyes forward. And the guy standing was dressed completely in black, with a coat and hat. On a hot day in that bus without the windows down, he’d be sweating bullets. The whole thing was off, so I slowed when on any other day I probably would have kept driving.”
My gut had been screaming.
“We took another lap around the block and I pulled into the grocery store’s lot from the other end, coming at the bus from a different angle. That’s when I saw it.”
“The gun?”
I nodded. “An assault rifle. We learned later he had a handgun too.”
“What did he want, the guy?”
“To this day, I don’t know. The driver said the guy had come out of nowhere on his last pickup. One of the kids had climbed up the steps, smiled and walked down the aisle. The driver watched the kid in the mirror as he took his seat. Then when the driver went to shut the door, the guy was just . . . there. He’d been waiting. Came onto the bus, yelled at the kids to shut up and close their windows. Then he ordered the driver to drive through town. Had him stop in the parking lot. The whole time, he was mumbling this crazy shit about saving the kids from themselves. Saving them from society.”
“He was crazy.”
“He was something. There was no connection to that bus driver or any of the kids other than he lived in the neighborhood where that route went. If there was more to it, we’ll never know.”
“He’s dead?”
I nodded. “He shot Margaret. I shot him.”
Presley gasped. “Did she—”
“She’s alive. He hit her in the shoulder.”
“Thank God.” Her frame relaxed. “How did it happen?”
“Fast. I called for backup and parked in the middle of a bunch of cars, hoping he wouldn’t see the cruiser. We got out with weapons drawn. Margaret went to the back of the bus as I went to the front. He didn’t see either of us. We were planning on waiting until SWAT arrived, but then everything went to shit. One of the kids opened the emergency hatch. And then . . . it was over. Maybe thirty seconds and it was done.”
I’d seen the entire thing from my position. The kid spotted Margaret from his seat at the rear and ducked low. I had already been moving at that point, dodging cars to get closer. When the hatch door opened, I was running full tilt toward the front window.
“The back opened and the guy went crazy. He started screaming loud enough that I could hear it outside. He lifted his gun, aimed it at a kid. I screamed something, hoping I’d get his attention. I figured if he saw me, he’d shoot me instead of a kid.”
My feet had felt like cement blocks. The driver noticed me first, then a couple kids in the front. They bent low, leaning past the seat in front of them, their faces twisted in fear.
To this day, I saw them at times. Small faces covered in blood.
“I fired at the same second he did. I shot him right through the glass. Three bullets. That was it. Boom. Boom. Boom. One hit him in the back of the head, the other two his spine. Blood and brain matter everywhere.”
Presley flinched.
“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so graphic.”
She waved it off. “I’m not scared of some blood. I just . . . that’s insane.”
“The driver opened the door for me. I got in and expected to hear kids crying and screaming, but it was silent. They’d all huddled down in their seats, and it wasn’t until I walked down the aisle they began to look up. Seventeen terrified faces all looking at me. I-I didn’t know what to do with them.”
“But Margaret did,” Presley guessed.
