“Don’t ‘spect I would,” he said.
I moved closer and his hand at my neck gave me a squeeze as his other arm went around my waist. I put my palms on his bare chest and pressed my cheek there.
“You think there’ll come a time when this shit quits hittin’ us, stuff we missed, things he stole?”
“Yeah, baby,” he said reassuringly, though I didn’t quite believe him mainly because he didn’t sound like he believed himself.
“You sure?”
Another squeeze at my neck. “Yeah.”
I nodded, my cheek sliding against the warm skin of his chest.
“One thing…” I started and then my throat closed and I couldn’t go on.
This time I got a squeeze from his arm at my waist before he prompted, “Baby?”
I cleared my throat and slid my hands around him, holding him around his waist too.
“One thing,” I said into his chest, “one thing that’s good, Colt, and that is, every day, for all these years, I thought of you, dozens of times a day. Every day. Every single f**king day.”
“February,” Colt whispered.
“Still do, except, now… it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
His hand at my neck went into my hair and gave it a tug. When my head went back, his face was already there and his mouth was on mine.
Colt tasted of toothpaste when he kissed me and I thought it was the best thing I ever tasted in my life.
“What’s takin’ so long?” Morrie bellowed, Colt’s head came up and this time he was grinning with humor.
“Shut up, Morrie! We’ll be out in a second,” I shouted back, still holding Colt close.
“Get the lead out, I’m hungry,” Morrie was still bellowing and I heard Tuesday giggle.
My body melted further into Colt’s. “He’s a pain in the ass,” I noted but having Colt in my arms and my family in the other room, I went on. “Still, I love Sundays.”
“Best day of the week,” Colt replied.
I smiled before I agreed, “Absolutely.”
“Baby?” he called like I wasn’t in his arms.
“Yeah?”
“We got a lifetime of Sundays ahead of us,” he reminded me.
I tipped my head to the side and I felt my smile change and the only word I could think to say to express how happy this idea made me was, “Yeah.”
Then I decided Morrie could wait a bit longer, so could the Feds, so could protective custody and I got up on my toes and kissed Colt in our bathroom.
* * * * *
Colt sat at his desk at the Station, Sean in the chair by the desk, Sully across from him.
Colt was antsy but he needed to get this done.
February was at the bar, she’d wanted to go there, sort some things out, preparing, like Colt was now, to be away.
Marty, in plainclothes, was there playing bodyguard.
This was why Colt was antsy. Chris had done night duty, which was good. Colt could trust that Chris would stay alert all night. Marty, Colt couldn’t trust and he wasn’t happy leaving Feb at the bar even though Morrie was there, as was Darryl and, although they weren’t yet open, Joe-Bob had already been let in and was in his seat. It wasn’t exactly an army of protection but Denny and a hatchet would have some troubles getting through four men to get to Feb.
But Colt had a bad feeling in his gut, he’d woken up with it and it hadn’t gone away. And when he had this feeling, he didn’t want to be away from Feb. Therefore, even with four men between her and the possibility of Denny showing, Colt was still antsy.
Warren and Rodman were waiting for Colt to lay his caseload on Sean before they handed Colt and February over to the US Marshalls to take to the safe house. They were antsy too. Visibly so. Time enough had lapsed for Denny to hit town and they wanted this done so they could focus on the hunt.
“You’ll only be gone a day, two tops,” Sean said and Colt nodded, hoping Sean was right.
“Though, in that time, shouldn’t be hard for you to track down our guy,” Colt replied, talking about the stoned out burglar. “He should have gone through his stash by now and is likely looking to score again.”
Sean nodded back at Colt as three phones rang simultaneously and the vibe in the room suddenly went electric.
Colt tensed and his eyes sliced to Sully who was watching him as he leaned toward his phone. Sully didn’t get it to his ear before Colt heard footsteps coming up the stairs, fast.
He swiveled in his chair to see it was Betsy. She took one look at Colt, her face pale, her eyes filled with fear, that weight in Colt’s gut turned solid as an anvil and Betsy said breathlessly, “Shots fired at J&J’s.”
* * * * *
“Quiet,” Denny clipped.
I swallowed, turning around in my seat in the car to look at Melanie. I gave a shake of my head to the obviously petrified Melanie, who’d just been whining, making low keening noises around the gag in her mouth and doing this mainly because she was scared out of her brain.
“Sweetheart,” Denny called, his voice soft and loving and I knew he was talking to me.
I turned my eyes to him, I didn’t want to, but I did.
Light brown hair, good haircut, blue eyes, decent build, probably a couple inches taller than me, he looked like Denny, but a bit older.
And he was covered in blood. Joe-Bob’s blood, Darryl’s blood, maybe even Marty’s blood.
And his blue eyes were wild. I’d never seen eyes like that and they scared me more than the blood, more than what I’d just seen at the bar because I knew he wasn’t done.
I swallowed again and fought back the tears that were stinging the backs of my eyes and the scream that was lodged in my throat.
“You know, even when I was with her,” Denny went on, jerking his head toward the backseat where Melanie was tied up and gagged, “I only wanted you.”
“I know,” I forced out, my voice sounding ragged, thinking it prudent to play his game and trying not to think of much else.
“It’s only ever been you, February,” Denny said.
“I know,” I repeated and closed my eyes tight before I looked back out the front windscreen. Then I swallowed and called, “Alec?” and using Colt’s name to address Denny made me feel like I had acid poured on my tongue.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” Denny answered.
I searched for the courage I needed and pulled it up. “Can we just let her go?”
“Sweetheart.”
“I don’t want her here.”
I moved closer and his hand at my neck gave me a squeeze as his other arm went around my waist. I put my palms on his bare chest and pressed my cheek there.
“You think there’ll come a time when this shit quits hittin’ us, stuff we missed, things he stole?”
“Yeah, baby,” he said reassuringly, though I didn’t quite believe him mainly because he didn’t sound like he believed himself.
“You sure?”
Another squeeze at my neck. “Yeah.”
I nodded, my cheek sliding against the warm skin of his chest.
“One thing…” I started and then my throat closed and I couldn’t go on.
This time I got a squeeze from his arm at my waist before he prompted, “Baby?”
I cleared my throat and slid my hands around him, holding him around his waist too.
“One thing,” I said into his chest, “one thing that’s good, Colt, and that is, every day, for all these years, I thought of you, dozens of times a day. Every day. Every single f**king day.”
“February,” Colt whispered.
“Still do, except, now… it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
His hand at my neck went into my hair and gave it a tug. When my head went back, his face was already there and his mouth was on mine.
Colt tasted of toothpaste when he kissed me and I thought it was the best thing I ever tasted in my life.
“What’s takin’ so long?” Morrie bellowed, Colt’s head came up and this time he was grinning with humor.
“Shut up, Morrie! We’ll be out in a second,” I shouted back, still holding Colt close.
“Get the lead out, I’m hungry,” Morrie was still bellowing and I heard Tuesday giggle.
My body melted further into Colt’s. “He’s a pain in the ass,” I noted but having Colt in my arms and my family in the other room, I went on. “Still, I love Sundays.”
“Best day of the week,” Colt replied.
I smiled before I agreed, “Absolutely.”
“Baby?” he called like I wasn’t in his arms.
“Yeah?”
“We got a lifetime of Sundays ahead of us,” he reminded me.
I tipped my head to the side and I felt my smile change and the only word I could think to say to express how happy this idea made me was, “Yeah.”
Then I decided Morrie could wait a bit longer, so could the Feds, so could protective custody and I got up on my toes and kissed Colt in our bathroom.
* * * * *
Colt sat at his desk at the Station, Sean in the chair by the desk, Sully across from him.
Colt was antsy but he needed to get this done.
February was at the bar, she’d wanted to go there, sort some things out, preparing, like Colt was now, to be away.
Marty, in plainclothes, was there playing bodyguard.
This was why Colt was antsy. Chris had done night duty, which was good. Colt could trust that Chris would stay alert all night. Marty, Colt couldn’t trust and he wasn’t happy leaving Feb at the bar even though Morrie was there, as was Darryl and, although they weren’t yet open, Joe-Bob had already been let in and was in his seat. It wasn’t exactly an army of protection but Denny and a hatchet would have some troubles getting through four men to get to Feb.
But Colt had a bad feeling in his gut, he’d woken up with it and it hadn’t gone away. And when he had this feeling, he didn’t want to be away from Feb. Therefore, even with four men between her and the possibility of Denny showing, Colt was still antsy.
Warren and Rodman were waiting for Colt to lay his caseload on Sean before they handed Colt and February over to the US Marshalls to take to the safe house. They were antsy too. Visibly so. Time enough had lapsed for Denny to hit town and they wanted this done so they could focus on the hunt.
“You’ll only be gone a day, two tops,” Sean said and Colt nodded, hoping Sean was right.
“Though, in that time, shouldn’t be hard for you to track down our guy,” Colt replied, talking about the stoned out burglar. “He should have gone through his stash by now and is likely looking to score again.”
Sean nodded back at Colt as three phones rang simultaneously and the vibe in the room suddenly went electric.
Colt tensed and his eyes sliced to Sully who was watching him as he leaned toward his phone. Sully didn’t get it to his ear before Colt heard footsteps coming up the stairs, fast.
He swiveled in his chair to see it was Betsy. She took one look at Colt, her face pale, her eyes filled with fear, that weight in Colt’s gut turned solid as an anvil and Betsy said breathlessly, “Shots fired at J&J’s.”
* * * * *
“Quiet,” Denny clipped.
I swallowed, turning around in my seat in the car to look at Melanie. I gave a shake of my head to the obviously petrified Melanie, who’d just been whining, making low keening noises around the gag in her mouth and doing this mainly because she was scared out of her brain.
“Sweetheart,” Denny called, his voice soft and loving and I knew he was talking to me.
I turned my eyes to him, I didn’t want to, but I did.
Light brown hair, good haircut, blue eyes, decent build, probably a couple inches taller than me, he looked like Denny, but a bit older.
And he was covered in blood. Joe-Bob’s blood, Darryl’s blood, maybe even Marty’s blood.
And his blue eyes were wild. I’d never seen eyes like that and they scared me more than the blood, more than what I’d just seen at the bar because I knew he wasn’t done.
I swallowed again and fought back the tears that were stinging the backs of my eyes and the scream that was lodged in my throat.
“You know, even when I was with her,” Denny went on, jerking his head toward the backseat where Melanie was tied up and gagged, “I only wanted you.”
“I know,” I forced out, my voice sounding ragged, thinking it prudent to play his game and trying not to think of much else.
“It’s only ever been you, February,” Denny said.
“I know,” I repeated and closed my eyes tight before I looked back out the front windscreen. Then I swallowed and called, “Alec?” and using Colt’s name to address Denny made me feel like I had acid poured on my tongue.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” Denny answered.
I searched for the courage I needed and pulled it up. “Can we just let her go?”
“Sweetheart.”
“I don’t want her here.”
