Page 65 of Walking Red Flag

“Sowwy.” He stopped painting his face and grinned.

I rolled my eyes at him and offered the purple to Vivi.

The next fifteen minutes were spent finishing up the paper, then I pulled them all to the backyard and hosed them off with the water hose before letting them run free.

I watched, but I watched with a beer in one hand from Sasha’s fridge, and a cupcake from Maven’s bakery in my other hand. I also watched from the comfort of an Adirondack chair that my sister-in-law had insisted that she needed around a firepit in the backyard.

That’s what I was doing when Shasha arrived.

I looked over at him in his unbuttoned shirt and unfastened tie and said, “You look rough.”

Then again, Shasha always did when he got home from having to kiss ass.

“It’s not my favorite thing to shmooze with the elite of Dallas,” he admitted, then turned. “I heard today that you’re married.”

My brows rose.

“What?” I asked.

His lips twitched. “From a fancy pants governor’s aide of all people. Apparently, you told them at the prison that you were married?”

My mouth opened and closed, and then I said, “That was before…”

He nodded. “Someone important heard, and it’s the talk of the town.”

“What?” I asked. “Why?”

He looked at his fingers.

“What would you say if I told you that I need you to actually be married?” he answered with another question.

I opened my mouth, and then closed it. “What? Why?”

He didn’t respond for a long few seconds before he said, “I have this…business deal.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared, not interrupting.

He looked like he was trying to figure out how to say what he needed to say because eventually I threw my hands up and said, “Just get it out, Shasha!”

“I’m going to kill him.”

I didn’t bother to ask who he was going to kill.

I knew.

He knew that I knew.

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain how you feel like it’s necessary for me to actually be married,” I said, then realized I’d just pretty much condoned him murdering someone for me. “Shasha, you’re not killing the man. We’ve gone over this before. You won’t kill him, because he deserves to be exactly where he’s at.”

That’s when something on Shasha’s face changed. “I learned from the warden of that prison, Benson Beauregard, that Lyle Pennington is getting out in three months. The parole hearing has already been held. He’s a free man come mid-summer.”

My mouth fell open. “What? He had two more years!”

“The prison system is overcrowded right now.” He sounded sick to be telling me this, and I closed my eyes as a wave of emotion rolled over me. “They’re letting quite a few criminals go, and one of those lucky individuals is Pennington.”

Sick.

I felt sick.

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