Page 62 of Stay in Your Lane!

“Everett?”

It was another power play by Reardon, or whoever was behind him. Another warning, but in this case it was a warning that could end with my family’s business going under.

“Ev?”

I was going to be responsible for ruining my entire family. What was my dad going to do? The business was his life! Where would we live if we couldn’t afford to stay in the mortuary anymore? What would Leanne and Stuart do?

“Everett!Hey, it’s okay.” My sister had gone into crisis management mode, I could tell by the tone of her voice. “It’sgot to be a mistake. Even if there are a few complaints, that still doesn’t explain the missing paperwork. Something else is going on here.” Suspicion sharpened her voice. “That detective who came by earlier, what was his—Reardon. Detective Reardon.”

Oh fuck, no, I couldn’t let her start digging. “Let me handle it,” I blurted.

“What? No, it’s fine, I’m already here?—”

“But you’ve got a meeting with Theo, right? And the last thing you want is to have to put off a meeting with him because of business bullshit, since that’s what made him break up with you in the first place”—my sister inhaled sharply, but I was too freaked out to backtrack—“and that sucks, so I’d way rather you be on time with him and let me take care of things, since I’m the one the complaints are about in the first place, and maybe they’re not even really complaints! Maybe they’re…um…”

“Everett.”

I firmed my voice. “Seriously, go meet with Theo. I’ll handle things with the clerk and see if they can figure out who misplaced our paperwork. It’s fine. I’ve got this.”

“Well…if you’re sure.”

“I am.”I’m not, I’m so not.“It’s cool.”It sucks.“Go, have fun.”Grab Theo and run for the fucking hills.

“Okay. Thanks, Everett. Let me know what you find out tonight, okay?”

“I will.”

I wouldn’t. I had no idea what to do. Leanne ended the call and I just sat there behind the wheel in the medical examiner’s parking lot, staring at nothing, contemplating the end of everything. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t talk to my family about this. I couldn’t make them all into targets. It was bad enough that Leanne knew Reardon. ThatReardonknewLeanne.

I was fucked.

But maybe I wasn’tcompletelyfucked.

I called Kyle.

CHAPTER 18

KYLE

Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.

I reminded myself of that over and over again as I turned an otherwise untouched coffee cup between my fingers at Waffles?

Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.

Except… Iwasn’tjust paranoid. Somebodywasout to get me, or at least shut me up, and I still had the footprint on my back and the bruise on my side to show for it.

And I could get them off my tail and out of my life if I just did as I was told and let this whole thing go. That was what Colin wanted me to do. It was what Detective Reardon wanted me to do. I was pretty sure it was what my father was going to tell me to do when he got here.

Fuck. Fuck! I was scared shitless, and there was a part of me thatwantedto let this whole thing go, keep my head down, and focus on my job and my fish and my boyfriend. I wanted to be a coward because that was safer.

But a much louder part of me wanted to dig my claws in even harder and see this thing through. No one would be trying thishard to chase people away from investigating a suicide that was really a suicide. Someone had murdered Rick Leighton along with two of his associates, and I would be damned if I backed away from figuring out who.

Even if the whole thing had me terrified and paranoid.

Squealing tires made me jump out of my skin, and I whipped my head toward the window. I instantly felt like a dumbass—of course it was Everett. His car (not the hearse this time) fish-tailed despite the pavement being bone-dry, and then he “parked” outside the restaurant.

I managed a quiet chuckle as I picked up my coffee. The man was not a great driver, that was for sure, but even that was charming in its own way. Maybe because it was just so… Everett. And I really liked everything about Everett.

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