Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(62)

“Well,” Wes said, “I haven’t dated anyone in seven years, so I think I win the Sad Sack Award.”

Mack’s gentle laughter cut through the seriousness of the moment, exactly as Wes hoped it would. “To be fair in handing out that award, your ex dumped you because he was a closeted asshole who couldn’t see a good thing right in front of him.” Wes didn’t have time to preen over the compliment, because Mack dropped the mother of all truth-bombs on the table. “My ex died.”

Wes’s free hand jerked, nearly tipping over his coffee mug. “Shit, what? You never mentioned that before.”

“It’s not something I tell most people. Hurts too much. People ask questions, try to offer years-late condolences. It’s easier simply to call him an ex, rather than say he passed.”

“I can imagine.” Wes squeezed his hand tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. Everyone is.”

Yeah, he’d just said he was tired of all the sympathy. “So when you said you left LA because of your ex, you left to escape the pain of his death?”

“For the most part. And I was pissed because of how he died. It shouldn’t have happened.”

Wes ventured a guess. “Illness?”

“No, he was shot and killed because my SWAT team leader fucked up a job.”

A chill jolted down Wes’s spine at the venom in Mack’s voice. Wes didn’t encourage him, only waited to see if Mack would tell him more, or shut down the conversation. It wasn’t a story Wes had expected to get at a diner, at eleven-whatever at night.

“Geoff worked at a big bank branch in Culver City, and he’d just transferred to another branch in North Hollywood. I hadn’t told anyone at work yet, because if I had, my team probably wouldn’t have been sent in when we got the call that robbers had taken the place hostage.”

“Oh shit.” Wes couldn’t stop the remark if he’d tried.

“Colt and I were on the same team, and when we got there, we both panicked. I didn’t tell my team leader my lover was in that bank, I was too focused on getting him out safely. I also didn’t agree with the tactical strategy we were given to rescue the hostages and take down the robbers. Something in my gut felt wrong the whole time, but we went in. Long story short, two of the tellers got shot by friendly fire, including Geoff.”

Mack looked up, his dark eyes swimming in grief. “He didn’t make it.”

“Jesus, Mack, I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah.”

The waiter breezed by to refill their coffee, and thankfully, didn’t stay long. Wes wanted to haul Mack into a hug and hold him until he felt better, but there was no hugging away that kind of pain. Losing a loved one so violently, feeling responsible somehow for not demanding his superior alter the plan. So Wes stayed put, trying to send Mack his thoughts through their joined hands.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” Wes said.

“Figured I owed you that much, especially since you were honest with me about Drake.”

“Yeah, but... Jesus, no wonder you left and came here.”

“It’s also how I can afford to renovate the ghost town. I sued the city and county for wrongful death. The settlement money is what’s paying for the project. I think Geoff would be happy about that.”

“Wow. That’s...wow. Wait, you said friendly fire?” Wes’s grief for Mack turned to horror. “Did they tell you who?”

“No, the brass kept that under lock and key. We were all on administrative leave while the investigation was under way, and eventually the entire team was reassigned, so there was never any clear-cut answer. Not even the press found out who, because so much of that shit is kept internal.”

Some of Wes’s horror shifted into anger. “I can’t believe that. Whoever killed Geoff should have been arrested and charged. Jesus.”

“The thin blue line.” Mack snorted. “Cops protect their own, especially when we fuck up in such a spectacularly public way. Promise me you will never work in a bank.”

The heavy emotion in Mack’s voice and eyes made Wes’s chest burn. “Promise.”

Wes’s phone buzzed with a text at almost the same moment as Mack’s. They held each other’s gaze a beat, and then reached for their phones.

Sophie: Heading home. Have fun and be safe!

The hell? She’s my ride.

“Fucking Colt,” Mack said.

“Let me guess. Colt went home and stranded you here?”

Mack looked up from glaring at his phone. “You, too?”

“At least I’m a ten-minute taxi ride to my place. Colt really stranded you?”

“Yes. Asshole.”

“Those two put some serious planning into this.”

Mack grunted. “Guess they figured if we spent more than five minutes in each other’s company, that we’d made up.”

“They did figure that right, so points to them?”

“I’m going to kill Colt for this.”

Wes tried to keep his hurt off his face. “So being stranded in the city with me is that awful?”

Mack blinked hard several times. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just gonna be fucking expensive to take a cab that far.”