Page 15 of Knotted Laces

The stuff that used to scare me doesn’t—I can protect myself, can be calm and levelheaded in a wide variety of tense situations. But I also know more about the world, the darkness that civilians can’t even fathom, and?—

In some ways, it’s even scarier.

I empty the last of the bullets from the magazine then set the gun down and hit the button to bring the target over to my end of the lane.

“Impressive.”

I’d already sensed Lex’s presence behind me, so I don’t react other than to turn around and lean back against the counter. “Thought you were heading to the airport.”

He and the other Jacksons are heading out today. The kids need to get back to school and the shops that Misty and Frankie own in the quiet town of Stoneybrook need to be reopened. And Lex, Chance, and Carter all have open cases.

Plus, they want to be out of Cam’s hair before his next playoff game tonightandhome from the airport and settled so they can watch the match up on TV.

But Lex doesn’t address any of that.

He just scowls and crosses his arms. “You done with this shit?”

I match his energy—because sometimes you just have to. “Shitmeaning a promotion?”

His scowl deepens. “Shitmeaning leaving your support system and running to the other side of the country because a case went bad.”

I still.

But not for long because I don’t let anyone push me around, not even Lex. “It’s not exactly leaving mysupport system”—I do air quotes—“when the Jacksons invade on the regular because Cam’s here.”

Of course, if I could have continued to work this case anywhere—fuckinganywhere—else it wouldn’t have been here, something I know thatLexknows given how he’s looking at me.

It’s soft.

Gentle.

And my stomach starts churning. “Don’t,” I warn.

“Shit went bad, Ats,” he says. “It happens.”

Ithappens.

“He’s not anit,”I whisper.

“No,” Lex agrees. “He wasn’t.

“Tommy died and he did it—” I press my lips together because I can’t give voice to the rest of it.

Unfortunately, Lex knows this part too. “Saving you.”

I clench my teeth so tightly that a bolt of pain shoots through my jaw. “It’s part of the job,” I hedge.

“Still leaves a scar.”

A little boy without a father. A wife made a widow.

Forme.

What was the fucking point? Saving a single, childless cat lady—not that I’m home enough to actually have a cat again—saving a woman who grew up in a shithole with asshole parents and leaving his family?—

Enough.

I lift my chin. “You’re going to miss your flight.”

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