Page 13 of Justice for Radar

I shook my head and said, “I don’t think that’d be the best idea given the circumstances.”

“Aw, spoilsport,” he said with a snicker.

I gave him a sidelong look and reassured he was just yanking my fucking chain, backed off white knighting for the moment.

“I don’t get it,” he said.

“Me either,” I intoned and my best friend and business partner, my club brother and all-around hetero life mate, clicked his tongue as we both stared after the woman walking slowly through the sand, eating her frozen treat ahead of us. She was wholly absorbed in watching the sandpipers with a faint smile and leaning down to look at the tiny shells along the sand.

She was sweetly somber – if I had to describe her demeanor – and there was just something about that. I just wanted to make her smile, and I didn’t know where the urge came from. I really didn’t. I didn’t think I could ever remember a time where I felt similar.

I spent the rest of the walk low-key talking with Atlas over the problem that was the dipshit that’d left her behind and making sure she didn’t hear us. She was whelmed and didn’t need any more piled on her.

“Right.” Atlas sighed and finished off his frozen yogurt. “It’s been a long day and I’m gonna fuck off back home. I’ll swing by your place on the way and snap pictures of what you’ve got so far, so drag this out about fifteen minutes or so before heading back.”

I nodded.

“Thanks, man.”

“Not the kind of shit we want to go down in our town,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug. With a final lingering look at Justice, he clasped hands with me and pulled us into each other to tap shoulders.

“Justice!” he called and raised a hand in a wave. She looked up. “It was nice meeting you!” he called. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

She swept some of her hair caught by the wind off the water behind her ear and raised her hand in a wave, calling back, “It was nice meeting you!”

Atlas jogged back up the beach and I wandered down it in her direction and smiled. She smiled back. She was far more relaxed than she’d been all day, the smile an actual genuine one.

“A little better?” I asked and she nodded, holding her empty cardboard yogurt cup down at her side, bracing the spoon against the side with her thumb. I held out my hand for it and she handed it over. I dumped the spoon into my empty cup and wandered over to the line of surf, rinsing the sticky remnants out of hers and straightening, holding it out.

“For your shells,” I said, and she smiled and dumped the few she had in her other hand into it, then took it back from me.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“It’s no problem,” I said, and we continued at a sedate pace for a bit.

“Thanks for giving us the privacy to talk business,” I told her.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” she said brightly. “Just…” she trailed off and I could tell she wanted to ask.

“What do we do?” I supplied.

“Yeah,” she uttered shyly, and I smiled and chuckled.

“We’re Bail Bondsman – Bounty Hunters,” I said.

“Oh. Oh, wow.”

“Private investigators when things are slow – which lately that’s been less and less.”

She lifted a shoulder in a one-sided shrug and said, “I can’t imagine people want to face the consequences of their actions, nor would they like to stay in jail if they don’t have to,” she said, and I barked a short laugh.

“No, that’s true. There’s no shortage of runners, mostly drug offenses which is just sad.”

She nodded and her expression sobered.

“Addiction is ugly,” she whispered.

“Yes, yes, it is,” I agreed wholeheartedly.

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