Page 29 of Jack's Devotion

"Hi, Sheriff Armstrong," she whispers, bravely lifting her chin when I know she wants to squirm and fidget. Hell, she probably wants to hide right now.

"Jack, I swear to God, if you tell me that she's been here this whole time, I'm going to shoot you in the kneecap before I kick your ass," he growls, glaring at me as he stomps deeper into the room.

"What the fuck? You think I've had her locked up here for seven years?"

"Have you?"

"For the sake of our friendship, I'm going to pretend you didn't ask me that," I growl, crossing my arms.

"You know damn well I have to ask. She's been missing for seven damn years. And now she's standing in your living room, and you asked me to slip through the goddamn back fence like you've got something to hide. So yeah, I've got questions." He plants his feet apart, placing his hands on his belt loops to hit me with ano bullshitlook. "A whole helluva lot of them."

"I haven't been here the whole time," Madison hurries to say. "I, um, I've only been back in town a few days."

"How many days?" Dillon pins her with a hard stare.

"Nine days."

"And how long have you been here?"

"Nine days."

Dillon shoots me a look that would make lesser men shrivel. Lucky for me, I'm not lesser men. And he's been looking at me the same damn way for years.

"In my defense, I didn't know she was here until four days ago."

"Jesus Christ. She's your rat infestation?"

"Rat infestation?" Madison's brows furrow in confusion. "Wait. Are you telling me there aren't rats in the pool house?"

I shrug.

"Jack!" she cries, glaring at me.

"I did what I had to do to get you in the house."

"Uh, you lied to me too, asshole," Dillon says.

"Yeah, you lied to him too," Madison says.

Jesus Christ. How did this turn into them ganging up on me?

"I called him about someone in the pool house," I explain. "Once I realized it was you, I might have told him it was a rat infestation to keep him from sending anyone out to investigate. You didn't want him to know you were back."

"Oh." Madison looks slightly mollified. "Well, I guess I've been called worse."

"I wasn't calling you a rat infestation, baby," I murmur. "And who the fuckiscalling you names? Tell me so I can handle it."

"Ah, son of a bitch!"

Madison and I both turn to look at Dillon, only to find him staring at us like we're the ones shouting in the middle of the living room. "You two are sleeping together."

"How do you possibly know…?"

"I'm the sheriff, motherfucker," he growls, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course I know. I get paid to put shit together."

Madison blushes, avoiding his gaze.

"Our business is our business, Dillon."

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