Page 17 of Rent Free

We hung out once every couple of weeks, and she updated me on her life plans. Today was the day we’d scheduled; it just so happened to coincide well with her sister’s blows.

“I agree,” I said. “One phone call, and you could’ve been there in two hours.”

From what Sage had told me, she’d grown up with her family in Kilgore, Texas, which was about a two-hour drive from Dallas.

It would’ve taken nothing for her to get to the funeral.

Hell, I would’ve taken her.

“I know,” she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I can’t believe they’d do this.”

I couldn’t, either.

What kind of sick people were they?

Our lunch smoothed out after the initial shock of hearing about her mother’s passing.

She’d given me an update on her, that she’d gotten into the police academy and would start that with the other recruits next week.

She’d also told me about a new guy she was seeing, and how she thought he might be the one.

I told her about my brothers and my parents, about how the house I was building was coming along, and what my plans were for the rest of the week.

After I left lunch with her, I’d intended to go home.

Really, I had.

I’d been up all night working a SWAT call involving a motorist that had severe road rage and had decided to take the man hauling an RV hostage for cutting him off.

That had taken up the bulk of my night, then I’d had to write reports because my boss, Scott, had decided that reports were beneath him.

Since I was on SWAT only part-time, I was pretty much Scott’s personal bitch.

What he didn’t want to do, I did.

Like making sure that all of the men and women on SWAT had their education and hours up to date. I also coordinated everyone’s schedules, figured out who was on call and who wasn’t. Who had too many hours and couldn’t come in. It was a thankless, never-ending job that I needed a break from.

And going to bed for a solid eight hours to forget about it all sounded pleasant.

But something forced me to go by the bakery that Sage had talked about.

The bakery itself was great.

I loved the owner, Maven Brumfield.

She was the daughter of our chief of police, whom I didn’t really like all that much.

I was glad to see that the father and the daughter were nothing alike, or I wouldn’t have been able to go there as much as I did.

When I got inside, it was to see Pepper standing next to Maven, laughing her ass off.

As if she hadn’t just dealt her sister a blow days ago.

Both women’s eyes came toward me, and both smiled huge.

I scowled at the offensive woman and said, “So you’re Sage’s sister.”

And the smile that was on Pepper’s face fell away as if it’d never been.

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