by Freya Barker
I dropped both of my temporary roommates off at the clubhouse before coming here, where Dylan is left to keep an eye on things. I’ll update him later.
“The prodigal daughter returns,” Jasper jokes when I walk into the office.
“And you have no idea how happy I am to be here.”
“Uh oh, trouble in paradise already?”
I plop down in my chair and smooth my hands over my desk. “Don’t get me started. I have a scary matriarch breathing down my neck, waiting for me to cross some invisible line, while I’m helping her feed an army of locusts I’m supposed to be scrutinizing. My prime suspect has been on the lam since Monday, and we don’t seem to be any closer to solving this clusterfuck. To top it off, I get to spend my nights with a troubled kid who’s fast crawling back into his shell, while Mr. Congeniality grunts, scowls, and hides in his room. If this supposed to be domestic bliss, let me take a hard pass.”
Jasper apparently finds this funny. “Ahhh, did you hear that?” he says to Damian, who is just sitting down at the large conference table. “Our little moon goddess is in love.”
“I know,” our leader confirms, not looking up from the file he has open.
I look from one to the other, my mouth open. “You’re both clearly nuts,” I protest. “How on earth do you manage to conclude that from what I just described?”
“You wouldn’t care so much if this was just an assignment, now would you?” Jasper points out.
“Was sich liebt das neckt sich” I look at Damian who shrugs his shoulders. “It’s true,” he adds.
“Since when do you speak German? And what is that even supposed to mean?”
“Same damn thing, Luna. If someone’s worth fighting with—he’s worth fighting for.”
Since I have nothing sensible to say to that, I hold my tongue. The silence stretches on until Jasper finally caves. “Shall we get this show on the road?”
The briefing nets little. No one saw what happened to the truck or Ouray Friday night, according to law enforcement in Ruidoso. The description the sales clerk at the gun store gave was identical to previous witness accounts, nothing new there either. This time the clerk complied with the robbers, and was lucky to escape with only bad dreams. One is already dead and that poor old guy in Bloomfield was not so lucky either. Edward Burchfield still remains in a coma in an Albuquerque hospital.
The fingerprints found on the truck belonged to one Nathan Phillips—Paco, as I know him—and the others belonged to Britney Hughes. The only other fingerprints were Ouray’s and those were just found on the steering wheel and nowhere else. No leads there.
Nothing on Britney either. Wherever she is, she never came back to her small apartment. Jasper mentioned her mailbox looked to be overflowing and none of her neighbors can recall seeing her since last week.
The only interesting bit of news was that the guns in the back of the truck didn’t total up to the number actually taken. Whoever was trying to stick it to Ouray, obviously had a hard time leaving the entire haul for the cops to find.
I locate Ahiga in the kitchen at the clubhouse, where Momma is already preparing dinner. Nosh sits at the table with him, apparently working on math problems. It reminds me, we shouldn’t wait too long to see if we can get him integrated into the school system here. As soon as things settle down. Of course we’ll first have to get this case solved, because until then I don’t feel comfortable letting him out of our sight.
“Need a hand?” I ask Momma after waving hello to the two at the table.
“Almost done here. But what would be welcome is if you can cheer up that pain in everyone’s ass.”
“Ouray?”
“That’s who I’m talkin’bout. Never seen that man go an hour without a smile. At this rate, he’ll have forgotten how to if he ever gets out of this funk.”
“He’s under a lot of stress,” I find myself defending him. “The doctor’s visit this morning didn’t help.”
“What’d he say? He didn’t feel like sharin’.” Momma turns to me expectantly.
“Still grounded. At least until his next appointment in a week.”
“Well shit. I ain’t gonna survive one more week of this. Or maybe he won’t. Folks are steering clear of him. Except Kaga, that man always liked taking risks.”
“I’ll go check in with him.”
I walk out of the kitchen, ruffling Ahiga’s too long mop of hair on the way, and trying to come up with a way to tell Ouray we’re not much further in our investigation.
“I have an idea,” I suggest, finding Ouray staring out the dirty window, not even turning when I walk in.
“What’s that?” he asks, turning slowly, and it strikes me how tired he looks.
I slip behind the desk and force my way on his lap, running my hand along his beard. “Why don’t we ask Momma if she can pack some food up for us, and head over to the house. We haven’t had a chance to give Ahiga his phone yet. I had Jasper program a few things for him this afternoon. I can show him over dinner. It should lift his mood a bit.”
“His mood? Sure you’re not talking about me?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I tease, jostling him a bit. “I mean the boy, he’s been withdrawn, and I don’t want him to go back where we can’t reach him. This tension is starting to wear everyone down, but he’s most vulnerable.”
I know I’ve managed to reach him when he tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and lets loose a juicy curse under his breath. “I’m an ass. It’s because of me, isn’t it?”
Proceeding with caution, I first press a soft kiss on his mouth. “In part,” I whisper, my lips against his before I straighten up. “But also because he’s more in tune than most. His lack of hearing makes him more sensitive to the undercurrent. He picks up on facial expressions, body language, and—”
“And moods,” Ouray finishes for me.
“Yeah. He was starting to feel safe here and now he can tell something’s up. I can imagine it might make him feel less sure about his place here.”
“And you think the phone will be a way to show him we’re not looking to throw him out any time soon.”
I grin into Ouray’s blue eyes that look clear enough from where I’m sitting. “Something like that.”
His arms snake around me tightly. “How’d you get so smart?”
“A degree in psychology helps.”
“Yeah?” For the first time in days I see a tentative smile crack through his sullen mood. “What does your degree tell you about me?”
“That you’re scared,” I say immediately, not holding back. His body stiffens right away and his smile disappears. I put my hands on his cheeks and lean in, trying to soften my words. “Anyone would be in your situation, honey. You carry a lot of responsibility for a lot of people, you don’t know who you can or can’t trust, and to top it off your body is letting you down. It all piles on and there’s nothing worse than feeling helpless against the wave of shit you know is coming.”
It takes a few minutes but finally the tension leaves his face and his shoulders, and he looks up at me, his eyes glittering through his lashes.
“Like I said—smart.”
I let out a sigh of relief before speaking. “You don’t have to carry it all alone. I’m here. I want to help you shoulder the weight. I know you’re not used to sharing—heck, neither am I—but we’re stronger if we just hook our arms and hold onto each other to face the storm.”
“Fuck, Sprite. I’ve tried hard to be a good man, and you still make me wanna be better. Not sure how I deserve you, but I ain’t letting go.”
CHAPTER 26
OURAY
Glad to see you managed to dislodge your head from your ass.
I drop in the chair across from Nosh, who is having his morning coffee in the kitchen.
Good fucking morning to you too, old man.
Momma slides a mug in front of me, and I throw her a smile.
“Now there’s a sight for sore eyes. Have you eaten?” she asks.
“Yeah. We had breakfast at the house.”
“So where did you leave Luna and the boy? Are they off to Aztec for his appointment?” She walks over to the large whiteboard on the wall that doubles as a calendar. Momma’s way to keep track of everyone.
“Tomorrow. They’re just heading over to Walmart to grab the boy a decent jacket and some boots for the winter.”
“We probably have some stuff here,” Momma suggests.
“She wants him to have his own things.” I grin, I already had this discussion with her last night, which got a little heated and ended in bed, Luna riding me. Needless to say, I folded like a wet tissue on the shopping spree.
“She’s really bonded with him, hasn’t she?”
“Yeah. She gets the kid.”
What if things don’t work out with CPS? Nosh points out, referring to the meeting our lawyer set up in Monticello for the second week of October.
We have a good relationship with Child Protective Services in Durango. They pop in, every so often, to see how the younger boys are doing. That’s a relationship we’ve been able to build on over the years, but we haven’t dealt with the CPS in Monticello before, and it’s always possible they won’t like our setup. That’s why we have Lawrence Brimley, he worked for the Colorado Office of the Child’s Representative, the OCR, for years and has a stellar reputation. Our luck he retired and moved to Durango years ago.
It will. I assure Nosh, who always worries. The boy is twelve, he gets to voice his wishes and you know he’ll want to stay.
I hope you’re right.
Trust me, I assure him, I’ll make it so he won’t ever want to leave.
“And how do you propose on doing that?” Momma wants to know.
I grin up at her. “I’m getting him a dog.”
An hour later, I’m standing in front of the kennel of a mangy looking animal. A new arrival, the volunteer at the La Plata County Humane Society said.
“That’s an ugly thing,” Kaga comments.
I asked him to make a stop here on our way to check in on our businesses in town. I haven’t stopped in for a few weeks, it’s about time I show my face. Of course, since I still can’t drive, Kaga gets to be my chauffeur for the day.
“Nothing a little food and a good home can’t fix,” I tell him, crouching down and sticking my hand through the bars, palm up.
The dog may not look its best and appears to be blind in one eye, but the other eye is clear and keen, and he seems to follow the conversation as if he can understand what we’re saying. Cautiously he takes a step closer, his focus never leaving the hand I hold out. I let him sniff first, before curling my fingers and scratching him under his chin.
“How old is he?” I ask the volunteer.
“The vet estimates he’s about three years old. He was brought in malnourished, was partially blind, had worms, and half his body was covered in ticks, but we cleaned him up, neutered him, and made sure he’s had all his shots. He may not be the prettiest now, but I’m sure with proper care, he’ll slowly put on some weight and his fur will start to look healthier.”
“I’ll take him,” I announce, getting to my feet.
“You’re not gonna get the boy a puppy?”
“Because a puppy is shiny and new?” I shake my head at Kaga. “No. I’d much rather show Ahiga that everyone’s deserving of a good home. The boy and the dog have a lot in common.”
We follow the woman into the small office where she pulls out a binder.
“If you’d just fill out the paperwork? We’ll process it this afternoon and you should be able to pick him up tomorrow morning.”
“What are you gonna call it?” Kaga asks when we get into his truck.
“Up to the boy to name his dog.”
An hour later—the back of Kaga’s truck filled with a dog bed, toys, leash, and bowls, and a food supply that’ll last the mutt three months—we pull up to the clubhouse.
“You sure you have everything?” Sarcasm drips from his words.
“Fuck off, just hang onto it until tomorrow morning.”
I get out and start walking to the clubhouse when Kaga calls out after me, “You realize if my kids see this, I’m gonna be in big shit, right?”
Without turning around I stick my hand up, flipping him the bird, but I’m grinning all the way to my office.
“WHAT HAS YOU SO HAPPY?” Luna asks later that night. “Have you had good news I don’t know about?”
“Come here.”
I’m sitting with my back against the headboard and crook my finger at Luna, who’s still putzing around, getting ready for bed.
“Just a few more things to put away.”
She and the boy had come home, the back seat of the Traverse loaded with bags. Enough clothes for Ahiga to fill the small dresser in the spare bedroom, but also some sheets, new towels, and a few things for herself. I hadn’t said anything earlier, just observed as she took the bags, ran everything she bought through the laundry, folded it, and put it away. The new undies, I happen to notice she bought, are the last thing she’s stuffing in the dresser.
“Not sure why it all needs washing,” I observe. “All that stuff comes out of the packaging clean. It hasn’t had a chance to get dirty.”
She shuts the drawer and stalks over to the bed, putting a knee in the mattress. “Have you ever slept on bedding straight out of the package?” she asks, as she slowly crawls up my body. I run my hands over the new sheets she put on the bed earlier. “It’s like sleeping on packing paper. They’re nice and soft now.”
“Look at you...” I stroke the back of my fingers down her flushed cheek when she settles on top of me. “Big tough FBI agent, all domesticated. New sheets, new matching towels for the bathroom. Hot as fuck new little panties.”
“Your sheets were threadbare, you had three towels in your linen closet, and I ran out of clean underwear,” she sputters, lifting her head from my shoulder.
“I love you domesticated.” I roll her under me, propping my head up on my hand and with the other I draw a line from her chin down between her breasts. “I love you making yourself at home here.” I cup the handful in my palm and brush my thumb over the hard little tip. “I love how you probably don’t think of yourself as nurturing, but you’re a natural.” Bending down, I close my mouth over her nipple and suck gently, her back arching into me right away. I let it go with a soft plop. “I love how responsive you are to my touch.” I lift my eyes to her warm smiling ones.
“I love...”
Her eyebrows go up, waiting for me to finish.
“...you.”
LUNA
I flick the light on and off and Ahiga lifts his head off the pillow.
Time to put that phone down and get your butt out of bed if you want to eat before we go. We leave in twenty.
“Is he up?” Ouray asks when I walk into the kitchen where he’s flipping French toast on the stove.
“He was up. Still in bed, though, playing on his phone—I may have created a monster.”
Ouray’s warm laugh washes over me as he snags me around the waist and tucks me close. “Nah, the phone was a good call. I think he sent me twelve texts while you were shopping yesterday alone. It’s like a whole new world you’ve handed him.”
“I guess. I just don’t want him to get lost in there and forget about this world.”
“Mmm.”
I press my nose into his chest and inhale the familiar smell of laundry detergent and freshly showered Ouray. Fast becoming my favorite scent in the world.
“Kiss me good morning,” he rumbles over my head and I lift my face to his.
A sharp rap of knuckles on the counter interrupts us, and I turn my head to find Ahiga—haphazardly dressed with hair sticking out every which way—scowling at us.
You’re killing my appetite with the smooching.
“Get used to it, smartass,” Ouray says chuckling, making sure the boy can read his lips.
I don’t think his appetite sus
tained much damage when he scarfs down his fourth piece of French toast. I tap him on the shoulder and tilt my head to the door.
You may want to go ahead outside. There will be kissing in the next minute. When he snags up his phone, tears through the house, and out the front door, I turn to Ouray. “I think we’ve discovered a sure way to light a fire under that boy.” I step into his body and fit my arms around his waist, tilting my head back. “Now, where were we?”
Ouray doesn’t waste time. I barely finish talking when his mouth slants over mine, his tongue stroking firmly between my lips to tangle with mine.
From the very first time he kissed me—even when it was just for show—this man unearthed emotions I thought were out of reach. Now, with every touch he shows me it was worth risking my heart.
“I should get going,” I mumble through swollen lips when he lifts his head. “He’s waiting outside.”
“Drive safe,” he says, pressing a last kiss on top of my head before letting me go.
I walk to the door and stop, turning around. “You know—I love...” I wait until I see his eyebrow pull up. “...you too.”
The last thing I see before I dash out the door is the glow from his eyes as his face breaks open in a gratified smile.
Lost in my head, I leave Ahiga to fiddle with his phone all the way to Aztec. It gives me a chance to get my rambling thoughts sorted before I sit down with Gary. Other than my call to him when I was looking for a therapist for Ahiga, I haven’t spoken to him since we had lunch at the beginning of September.
He’s not going to believe the change in me. I was a mess last time, freaked out, scared, unsure how to take my next step and now look at me. Barely a month later and I’ve just bared the bottom of my soul to Ouray.
“I. Am. Hungry.”
I turn to look at Ahiga, who loves the new app Jasper downloaded. It’s perfect for him, he clearly never had the benefit of a speech therapist to help him gain the confidence to verbalize words, and this app gives him a voice. Albeit a mechanical one.
“You just had breakfast.” I enunciate clearly, so the program doesn’t bastardize my words into some garbled word soup text, like it’s done a few times in the past three days when Ahiga was playing around with it. “Here.” I reach into my purse and pull out a granola bar I stuffed in there God knows how long ago.
