Page 9 of Code Violation

“He’s only here for the gory details,” Forrest insisted hotly, his ire rising again. He was pissed off that Magnus thought he could get over his past. Closure be damned. “The past can stay where it belongs. Forgotten and in the past. Don’t forget he was also an investigative journalist.”

Fuck, even he knew he sounded ridiculous and petulant.

And maybe scared. Not that he would ever admit that one out loud. Mostly because he knew as well as Rufus, Magnus, and anyone else who’d lived in Cooper Springs forever did that the chances of his parents being still alive and living in The Deep were almost zero.

Almost zero, but not quite. Dammit, these remains and Blair Cruz missing had him all tied up in knots.

Magnus paused his aimless wiping of the sparkling bartop to give Forrest another hard glance. “I think he will ask good questions. Questions that should’ve been asked years ago. What about the stuff up on the mountain? If the bones have family left alive, don’t they deserve to know what happened? It’s not all about you, Forrest. Have you ever considered that the past is overdue for a good rummage?”

Forrest felt his jaw slacken and his mouth gape. He wasn’t sure which pissed him off more: the not all about you comment or the idea that a good rummage was needed. Both. Both pissed him the fuck off. Pissed him off more.

“A good rummage?” Forrest hissed back. He’d lost his tenuous grip on his temper. He leaned across the bar to get as close to Magnus as he could. To his credit, Magnus didn’t step to the side or react at all. But then, Magnus had known Forrest most of his life. “You of all people—more than most people living here anyway—know what needs talking about and what can be left dead and buried.”

Dead and buried. Fingers fucking crossed.

Frowning, Magnus shrugged. “Well then, you need to do something to control the narrative if you’re so worried about the past. Me? I’m happy to have some fresh eyes in town. A neutral party, taking a look-see and maybe stumbling across something we’ve all been missing when it comes to these bones.”

Magnus tapped the gleaming mahogany countertop with one fingertip while Forrest pressed his lips tightly together, stemming the angry tide of words that threatened to escape past them. Magnus was not his enemy. Nero Vik was the enemy. A sexy-as-fuck enemy—but still, the enemy.

Magnus had a point though. He wouldn’t have any idea what Vik was up to if he shut him out. He hated that Magnus might possibly be right.

“If it makes you feel better, you can call it sleeping with the enemy,” Magus added. “Get to know him, find out what he’s looking for, be ready for it.”

“I’m not sleeping with anybody,” Forrest growled, distracted again when an image of Nero Vik popped into his head. All that long, wild, dark hair and those soulful eyes. “Especially not for information.”

Magnus’s eyebrows rose higher. “I didn’t mean literally sleeping with, Forrest, but whatever floats your boat. Which, like I said before, maybe that’s exactly what you need—a roll in the hay.”

“Can you just quit with the sexual innuendos?”

Tossing the bleach rag aside, Magus shook his shaggy head. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Forrest, it’s not innuendo.” He snorted. “I just meant if you cooperate—admittedly, an issue even when you aren’t worked up. Which suggests maybe you do need to work off a little sexual frustration. Vik just wants to talk to people. Maybe he won’t want to talk to you at all. Maybe you aren’t important to what he’s doing.” Magnus shot him an annoying grin. “That would be hilarious.”

“Ah, fuck you.”

FIVE

Nero – That Wednesday Night

The sharp shrill of sirens dragged Nero from an already restless sleep. Glow from the red lights of a fire engine cut through the darkness in the cabin, splashing the walls with an eerie light. Blinking, Nero hoisted himself out of bed and stumbled the few steps it took to get to the window that looked out over Cooper Springs.

“What the hell? Is that what I think it is?”

Half-awake, he hurriedly pulled on his jeans, a t-shirt, and a thick wool sweater. Shoving his feet into his boots, Nero shrugged into his peacoat and headed out the door. At the last minute, he remembered to lock up and then tucked his keys into his coat pocket.

Hurrying down the footpath to the parking lot, he decided not to drive to the scene; the Explorer would just be in the way. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, Nero crossed the highway and walked quickly toward the flashing lights. Selfishly, he hoped it wasn’t the historic Cooper Mansion, but he was very afraid he was wrong.

Within blocks, he knew he was wrong.

For once, it wasn’t drizzling, showering, or otherwise raining. But with all the storms they’d had recently, maybe the general damp would save the old building. He quickened his pace, as if his arrival would stop the hungry flames from devouring the town’s history.

A water truck blocked the street and a second engine was parked on the sidewalk. Nero wasn’t the only one who’d come out to watch the firefighters do their jobs. He recognized the rumpled form of Rufus Ferguson and walked over to stand by his side.

“Hi, Rufus. What happened?”

“Hey, Nero.” Rufus shook his head. “No idea yet. Looks like someone called the fire station in time, but who knows.”

Several people were milling around but staying behind the yellow tape that had been stretched across the street. Rufus, who seemed to know everyone and probably did, raised his hand in greeting toward the group.

“I was hoping to get access to the archives stored there,” Nero said morosely. “I’m guessing they no longer exist.”

---