Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 91438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Yeah, him and Kettle are sitting right here,” Dixie said, the music from the bar thumping loudly across the line.
“Tell him his sister needs him. She’s at his house.”
“Got it.”
The phone clicked, signaling the end of the conversation, and I shoved the phone back into my pocket before I started the bike back up.
With one last look into the subdivision where she’d disappeared, I put all thoughts of Sawyer Berry, her captivating blue eyes and her beautiful black hair out of my mind.
Instead, focusing on what was to come.
***
Three hours later I wasn’t in any better of a mood.
In fact, it was worse.
“What do you mean that’s all you can tell me? So he got out of prison, walked down the street, got on a bus, and you haven’t seen him since? What about his parole officer?” I questioned him, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Lynn shrugged.
“Hasn’t seen him either. Neither has his doctor,” Lynn confirmed.
“Fuck!” I yelled, bringing the attention of the bartender to me.
I’d ridden two hours to get to this little hole in the wall bar, and then spent another hour waiting on this fucker to get here. This was really pissing me off.
He’d just shown, and in no uncertain terms, had said that he had no clue where Shovel was.
Nor did he think he could spare any resources on finding him.
“How about this,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “You tell that boss of yours that he’ll help me, or he’ll fuckin’ regret it? Do I make myself clear?”
This would’ve never happened with the old director.
The new one felt he was too good to help out old colleagues.
Even if I wasn’t technically a colleague of his anymore, it didn’t mean that I didn’t do the odd job here and there.
It also didn’t mean that I didn’t still know some people.
Or that I couldn’t get to the fucker.
“He’s not going to like that,” Lynn cautioned.
I shrugged. “I don’t really give a fuck. I can find Shovel myself, of course, but old Crotch Rot isn’t going to like it.”
Lynn rolled his eyes. “Crotch Rot? You’re still calling him that?”
I nodded.
Crotch Rot was really Crotchet. And he didn’t much like being called Crotch Rot. Which was why I did it.
Crotchet didn’t like me, and I made no bones about not liking him either.
He was a selfish prick who only looked out for himself and his own advancement in the company, rather than the men under his wing.
“Just tell him,” I sighed, standing up and paying my bill.
The bartender nodded his thanks for the tip, and Lynn walked with me out to my bike.
I scanned the parking lot, as I did automatically every time I entered a different environment, and straddled my bike.
“I’ll tell him, Silas. But you’re going to have to be careful. He’s not a dick. He won’t care what you did to get where you’re at. He sees it as you being over entitled. Something he’s been spouting off for months,” Lynn offered.
I smiled.
I’d been offered Crotchet’s position more than once. Had I wanted it, I could just go take it from him. And maybe he needed to know just what he was dealing with.
“Fine,” I said, smiling lightly. “I’ll talk to Rosenthal.”
Lynn blinked.
Slowly.
“You’ll… you’ll what?” he stuttered.
I nodded, firm in that decision. I had been considering going over his head.
Maybe I should just go over right now.
Maybe that was the way to take care of this… to nip this thing in the ass before it got to where I could see it going if it got out of hand.
“Yeah, I think I’ll do that. Don’t worry about telling Crotchet a thing.”
Chapter 5
Some days are harder than others. But those other days I usually drown myself in wine, so I’m not quite sure if they’re actually easier or if I’m drunk.
- Fact of Life
Sawyer
“You can’t take a baby into a bar,” I said in mock outrage as Bristol pulled into a parking spot directly in front of Halligans and Handcuffs. I was referencing one of my favorite movies – Sweet Home Alabama.
“It’s not only a bar… and besides, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon,” Bristol said as she got out.
Since Bristol and Dallas’ youngest was on my side, I got the car seat and carried her inside, warily.
“Whatever you say… I won’t be the one going down for child endangerment,” I muttered under my breath.
By the time I made it to the front door, Bristol was there holding the door open for me.
I winced when the car seat dug slightly into my arm, and I handed the baby off to her mother.
The baby was probably all of eighteen pounds, but that was enough to make her feel like a million in the car seat.
Bristol took the seat and slung it into the crook of her arm like it was second nature… which it probably was seeing as this was her second child.
Their other baby, Latham, was at pre-school until three this afternoon.
Latham didn’t even know me, and I was his aunt.
I shut down that thought before it could morph into anything worse.
I studiously avoided looking at the cross on the way to and from work today.
It’d been only a half-day today since Zack had Friday afternoons off, and I was grateful.
Riding my bike back and forth to work, as well as putting in a whole eight hour shift, was tiring.
And it was more than I’d done in ten years; it was going to take some getting used to.
“Just two?” A man asked.
I looked up to find the man behind the bar, a man that had a long white beard down to his chest, and a pot-belly to rival a sumo wrestler, staring at us.
“Two and a baby. A booth will be fine,” Bristol said, holding up the arm that was holding the car seat.
The man nodded to a booth towards the middle of the room, and I grinned.
I loved how they incorporated all the firefighter and police memorabilia.
It was tastefully done, not ostentatious like it could’ve been.