Page 246 of Waiting Game

Jason Griggs was recently arrested for arson. Not only that, but his dumb ass created a Frankenstein cash app account that he used to steer suspicion onto me. He wanted it to look as if I’d paid him to start the fire. Thank God his plan was riddled with holes because that finally made the police take note.

Now, his lawyer is trying to blame brain damage from his football career,thirty years ago, for his actions.

We always knew he had aggression issues, but to set fire to Chuck’sthentack on a conspiracy charge is a whole other level of crazy.

I can’t help but feel lucky he decided to target the bar and notme.

Especially with how he was becoming more and more aggressive in his manner.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

I blink at him. “Nowhere.”

“Were you thinking about that jackass again?”

I hitch a shoulder. “Just grateful that he targeted Chuck’s and not me.”

His mouth rounds and he shudders. “Fuck, I never thought of it that way.”

Nuzzling into his side, both of us fall silent as we ride toward Verona.

By the time we arrive, Cole’s tugging me deeper into his hold as if he’s retroactively protecting me from an already incarcerated threat.

I don’t argue—it feels good to be so close to him.

“Hey, babe,” Indy greets as we walk through the door. Then, her brow lifts when she sees Cole. “Long time no see, douche canoe. I thought you went to Ricki in Manhattan to get the rest of that back piece done.”

Her sniff tells us what she thinks aboutthat.

“As if I’d dare,” he declares, lifting his free hand to his heart.

My lips curve at his antics—honestly, he’s so melodramatic, it should be exhausting. Instead, I’ve never smiled as much in my life.

“Yeah, you’d dare all right, Mr. Korhonen.” Her gaze cuts between us. “You shacked up with this doofus, Mia?”

I grab a tighter grip of his arm. “He’smydoofus, Indy, so be nice.”

She clucks her tongue as Cole cries, “Hey!” When I peek up at him, he’s pouting, and I have to kiss that pout. It’s a biological imperative.

“More pussycats found you, chick?” Indy asks.

“One more. Betsy.” I tug on his hand. “Can you fit Cole in? He wants some commemorative ink too.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Only if you book time in for that back piece. It’s glorious and I don’t want anyone else fucking it up. If they do, it’ll be wasted, and don’t make me waste my art on you, Korhonen, or you’ll suffer the consequences.”

He mock-shudders. “Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

She hums. “I know you too well. You’re lucky my schedule is light today.”

Ten minutes later, she’s busy drawing my mandala while Cole explains what he wants.

When I listen to his request, I bite my lip.

I know he never forgot Betsy, but he didn’t let go of the memory of her passing either. I’m not sure whether it’s the kitten, surviving another fire, or because he feels loved, but several hours later, with both of us stinging in places thanks to our new ink, I can’t help but study his and smile.

A beautiful rendition of Betsy is posed, mid-canter, on his ribs. Atop her saddle, there’s Betsy the kitten, perched like a queen, a small crown tilted on her ears that matches the larger one sitting on Betsy the horse’s head.

Which is when it makes sense—Queen Elizabeth.

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