Page 16 of One Night Redemption

"Oh, hell no." I toss the keys in his direction. He catches them with a flick of his wrist. "Regulators, mount up."

"You're ridiculous." Troy groans. "See you over there."

When I walk in, my skin crawls. Cassie is standing in the kitchen, a smirk spread across her face. "I can't believe you didn't tell me about this place."

She laughs, throwing her head back. "I wanted to see your face, and it absolutely did not disappoint."

"No offense, Ashley." I hold my hand out to her. "But this is nightmare fuel and gangrene waiting to happen."

She laughs along with Cassie. "I heard that you might have a few issues."

"None with you," I hurry to assure her. "And everything to do with the amount of dust on this floor, and what may be under all of that." I point to a pile in the corner. "You got any gloves, maybe a paint respirator?"

Everyone laughs at me, and I hate them all. Troy claps his hand on my shoulder. "Dude. The backyard is all yours. There's a burn pit, plenty of garbage, and you'll be in the great outdoors. It's your time to shine."

"I'm fuckin' on it."

Turning on my heel, I head into the backyard. It's a mess out here, but at least I won't be stuck in there with the dust mites and everything else. For more than an hour, I work on clearing the land, and putting things into the burn pit, watching as the contents are sucked up in the flames and burned down to nothing but the ash that's left behind. Reminds me a lot of how I've burned down my life over the last couple of years. I'm finishing up with one section, when someone comes out of the back door at the trailer beside Ashley's. I recognize this guy, although I can't place it.

Not until he turns so that I can get a look at his side profile. Ford Gambrel.

He's not a bad guy, just been placed into some really sticky situations. Many of his own making, others that weren't his fault at all. He's definitely a product of his upbringing, and while Troy and I have had dealings with him, they haven't all been bad. I raise my hand in a wave, and he gives me one back, walking over to where I'm standing.

"Deputy Fellows? You moving in next door?" He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Nope, but a friend of mine is. I expect you to watch out for her. The shit Troy and I have done for you, I'm not saying you owe it to us, but I'd appreciate it. I know you aren't fucking around since you got custody of your daughter. We'd consider it a favor."

His eyebrows scrunch together, and I wonder if he's about to tell me to fuck. Instead, he nods. "I'll do what I can to help. My daughter seems to be enamored with her, always wanting to go over there ..." he trails off.

"Thank you."

"Dad! Can I have ice cream?"

He sighs. "I gotta go, but I'll definitely keep an eye out around here."

"Thanks," I say, as he walks away.

"You're the sweetest guy, trying to hide it with a tough exterior." Cassie's arms go around my waist. "How do you all know him?"

I hold her hands where her fingers are entwined at my stomach. "He was in a chop shop raid about a year and a half ago. He's since turned around his life. He's a single dad and trying to live his life the best he can. None of us can fault him for that."

She rests her head against my back. "Thanks for coming out and helping. I'm sure this is the last thing you wanted to do on your day off."

I reach back, putting my arm around her shoulders, and pulling her around to where she stands in front of me. "It's not, but as long as I'm doing something that makes you happy? That's all I want to do."

Chapter

Thirteen

Cassie

First night back at work and it’s already a shit show. Working in an ER, there’s always a theme. Some nights it’s frequent flyers. Other nights, it’s all flu and respiratory shit. Tonight, every asshole with a six pack of beer and a power tool is in here to get stitches.

“Number twelve needs an ortho consult,” the doctor says. “Went straight to the bone and maybe took a chunk out of it.”

I saw that one coming. I mean, the dude’s chainsaw kicked back on him and laid his thigh open. Of course, if he hadn’t been trying to carve the Kentucky Wildcat out of a tree stump in his yard because he saw someone do that on TV, it wouldn’t have been an issue. Leave the woodcarving to the woodcarvers. End of story.

“It’s already in and waiting for you to sign off on it.”

---