Page 58 of Give Me Redemption

“Maybe not, but it fucking helps me sleep at night.”

I look down and shake my head. If this is what he has to do, then who am I to say anything about it?

I need things in my life to help me cope, and this seems to be his thing. If he has to make sure the woman is okay, then all right.

“Fine,” I say. “If this is what you need to do, then do it, but don’t expect me to be the nice guy. And if she hurts you, I’ll end her, Bryce. She’ll wish she died of an overdose.”

“Don’t say shit like that,” he says.

“I’m not going to pretend like everything is okay,” I reply. “I’m not going to act like she didn’t give us up, like she didn’t make our father’s life a living hell.”

“I understand that. But can you be civil?” he asks.

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” I smile sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes. “Thanks.” Bryce looks to his watch. “We better get back.” He zips his suit back up. “We good?”

I give him a sideways glance. For the first time in a long time, I feel a weight has been lifted. I feel a little better. “Yeah. We’re good.”

He smiles and gently pushes my head, like we’re kids again. “Love you, punk.”

“Punk?” I say. “I’ll show you who’s a punk when I beat your ass going back down this mountain.”

“That’s a bet,” he says, grabbing his helmet.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Harlow

Buzz, buzz, buzz. I pop my eyes open, looking over at the coffee table and realize my phone is vibrating. I reach over from the couch and hit the shady button, not even looking to see who it was.

I sit up, removing my eyeglasses and looking down when papers and a pint of whiskey fall to the floor. My head is pounding, and my eyes are tired. I set my glasses down and put my face in my hands. My phone vibrates again, and I look over.

Hey. I’m back from the ranch. Want to watch the game later and have a drink?

Jace.

I groan and fall back onto the couch, resting the back of my hand on my forehead. Of course, I want to go watch the game and have a drink with you, but I fucking like you and this is getting too damn complicated. We haven’t seen each other in two weeks. We’ve texted here and there, but that’s as far as it’s gone. The late-night phone calls have stopped on both ends. I was so gung-ho about getting Bryce’s case solved and moving on so I could work more on cases I wanted to, but something is holding me back.

That something is the fact I like Jace and I don’t want to hurt him. I haven’treallyliked a man in so long. I mean, there’s Malcom, but I only like him for what I can get out of him. I know that sounds shitty, but sometimes humans are shitty.

My phone rings again and I look over. It’s Monroe.

I grab it and sit back up. “Dalton.”

“We’ve got a lead on that missing teen. Abby Foster. We think we found the house.”

“Be there in fifteen,” I say.

The rush of getting a lead on a case is exhilarating. It’s like standing on top of a tall building knowing you’re about to jump. You’ve got the bungee cord, but anything could go wrong. It’s risky, but that’s what makes it so thrilling. Finding a sick person who takes kids and putting them away… it’s like getting a personal pat on the back from God.

I run to the bathroom, wash my face, brush my teeth, spray some perfume on, and change my wrinkly clothes for fresh ones. Grabbing my gun holster, I give Slim a kiss on the head and lift my keys from the table.

Driving to the location Monroe texted me, I pop a handful of headache meds and chase them with an old water bottle.

I’m a wreck.

I know it.

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