Darkness at the Edge of Town (Iris Ballard #2)(33)
“Good. Glad we settled that. You are unofficially a Ballard, you poor, poor bastard.”
“Guess that makes you unofficially a Hudson. My parents will be thrilled. I think they like you more than me anyway.”
“Really? Even after I almost got you killed?”
His end was quiet again for several seconds. “You didn’t almost get me killed, Iris,” he finally said solemnly. “I knew what could happen. I made the choice not to wait for backup. You shouldn’t feel at all responsible for what happened with Shepherd. Do you hold me responsible for him breaking in and assaulting you? Because if I’d listened to you, listened to my own gut, he wouldn’t have…” He couldn’t finish.
“Wait. Do you blame yourself for that night?” I asked, genuinely shocked. “That’s crazy, Luke. The only person I blame is Shepherd. You saved my life. You ran into my house to face off with a serial killer knowing full well you could die. I don’t blame you, Luke. I…I feel like I should give you my first-born child or something. Although if I remember correctly, I already promised you my first two. But don’t you dare, dare waste a moment with regret or guilt over that night. You were my knight in shining fucking armor. You’re a hero. And anyone who beats up my best friend, my hero, has to answer to Iris Ballard. And from what I’m told she is one scary bitch.”
“Maybe, but she’s got a soft side too. In fact I’d say she’s all heart. Not that she would want others to see it or admit it even to herself. But she is the kind of woman who cancels plans with what I’m told by total strangers on the street now—thank you very much for that—is the sexiest FBI agent in America to go to a town she hates because her ungrateful mother asked her to.”
“She sounds like a moron,” I quipped.
“The two are not mutually exclusive,” he said, I’m sure with a smirk.
We both chuckled at that. “Oh, I needed a laugh. You have no idea.” It was also nice to have someone completely in my corner, defending me even from myself. “I haven’t even been here forty-eight hours and I’ve already been yelled at by Mom, passive-aggressively sparred with my half-sister at Starbucks while the mean girls from high school watched, and just been informed that my brother essentially hates me as much as Merrill does, if possible.”
“You’ve been busy,” he said.
And that was just what I could tell him. “This one kind of cool thing happened, though. One of the mean girls apologized for tormenting me.”
“Really? Did you accept?”
“Yeah. In fact, besides the blips with Mom and my sperm donor’s demon seed, everyone’s been really nice.”
“And you’re surprised?” he chuckled. “Iris, you’re a national hero. You’re the best—heck, the only—good thing that came out of that town. You were even before all the press coverage. I’m shocked they haven’t put a crown on your head and declared you princess.”
“Princess Iris Ballard would be an improvement over my last title, Abortion Whore.”
“That was twenty years ago. I’m sure they’ve forgotten about that.”
“Merrill hasn’t. I’m sure she’s calling all her cronies to remind them right now. Although I do take far too much satisfaction in the fact it must fucking destroy her how far I’ve come. Is that wrong? Is that evil?”
“After what she did to you all those years? It’d only be evil to shoot her.”
“Well, I’ve only been here a day. It could still happen.”
“Fine. Just don’t expect me to drive up and help you hide the body,” he said.
“Excuse me? As my person it is your contractual duty to help me cover up my murders. Read bylaw twelve if you don’t believe me,” I said jokingly.
He was silent for a second. “Pretty sure I’ve met that particular clause already a couple years ago at the FBI inquest, remember?”
Shit. I hung my head. “Yeah, I, uh, didn’t ever thank you for that, did I?”
“I believe the last time it came up, you said you were glad you never did right before you threw an ashtray at my head.”
I cringed at the memory. “Then I guess I owe you a thank-you and an apology.”
“You don’t owe me a thing, Iris.” He paused. “Except your first two children. Those I intend to collect on,” he said in jest.
I chuckled. “Okay then, Rumpelstiltskin, they’re yours.”
I could practically feel his smile on the other end of the line. “I’m here if you need me, you know. Day, night, always, forever.”
“I know. And I appreciate it more than words can say.” A tall, thin man walked into the restaurant and began scanning the space, smiling nervously when he spotted me. “Luke, I have to go. My appointment’s here.”
“Oh. Okay,” he said, not hiding his disappointment. The feeling was more than mutual.
“I’ll call you later. Get some rest,” I said.
“You stay sane. Give my best to your grandparents. And I guess your mother too. Bye.” He hung up.
“Agent Ballard?” the thin man asked as he reached me. He had to be Kevin Perry. The man was about my age, with medium-brown hair pulled into a short ponytail and a pockmarked face. I had him pegged as a former meth-head if not current. When he smiled and I saw he had a few missing teeth in the back, I knew my initial assessment was accurate.