Page 14 of Saved By the Sergeant

That’s bloody it. That son of a bitch is mine. “He let you go, yes?”

“Yes. And I went about my life and didn’t say a word to anyone.”

“I’m lost, sweetheart. If you didn’t report the assault to the police or the kidnapping?—"

“Wait.” She puts her hand up. “He didn’t kidnap me.”

“Did you want to stay at his place for two weeks?”

“No,” she says and shivers.

“Then you were kidnapped, too, sweetheart.” I let that sink in for a minute. “If you kept his dirty little secret, why would he want to kill you?”

She jumps to her feet. “Can we take a break for a minute? I want to tell you everything, but before I finish this story, I’d like some of your whiskey to calm my nerves. Is that okay?”

“Gennie,” I get up, put my arm around her shoulders, and walk her to the pantry. “What’s mine is yours. And lucky for you, I never let my friends drink alone. I’ll have a whiskey, too.” I wink down at her. “I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere. You take all the time you want to tell me your story, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” She smiles up at me. “You are a good friend, Archie. May I call you Archie?”

The last person who called me Archie was in the fourth grade. He walked away with a black eye and a bloody nose. But Gennie… she can call me anything she wants. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” she beams. “Let’s whip up the dishes, sit by the fire, and drink.”

She rests her head against my chest for no more than a heartbeat.

And that’s when it happens.

I fall in love with a bright-eyed Happy wielding would-be assassin.

7

GENEVA

After washingand putting the dishes away, we sit by the fire, watching the snow fall, and share a tall glass of whiskey. I learn Archie is an 80’s movie lover just like I am. He enjoys sports but isn’t a die-hard fan. However, if Chris Stapleton is playing a concert within a five-hundred-mile radius, he’s hands-down going no matter what. He has an older sister who lives in Iceland with her partner. He has no brothers, no nieces or nephews. His parents passed away within six months of each other two years ago. He’s a proud American, loves the people of Whiskey Creek, and would die for Gizmo. He’s the absolute best human being I have ever met.

I still have to tell him why I’m on the run. But… I’m stalling. Part of me wants to just get it over with, but I’m scared to death. What if the twinkle in those big chocolate eyes of his disappears? What if he thinks I’m a coward? What if he looks at me with disdain?

“Where did you go?” Archie nudges me on the shoulder. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

As if he senses my fear, he puts down his whiskey, leans back into the sofa, and drops a big open palm onto his thigh. “Give me your hand, Gennie.”

I ignore the slight pressure in my chest as his hand swallows mine.

“Whatever it is you’re about to tell me, sweetheart, will not change how I see you.”

Shocked, my mouth drops open. “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Educated guess,” he says with a grin.

“Or you’re a mentalist,” I smile back.

“Nah, just good at paying attention to things that matter to me.”

Heat flushes up my neck straight to my cheeks. And it’s not from the fire or the whiskey. “Where did you come from?”

“Now who’s reading minds?” He squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” I whisper.

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