At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(25)

But, most of all, he knew it the first time she smiled at him.

He knew this was a mistake.

“I need to go,” she mumbled into his throat and tilted her head back, pushing up a bit to come face to face, her hand cupping his jaw.

She did need to go, he needed her to get the f**k out of there but he still didn’t loosen his arms.

Then she tipped it.

“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

There it was.

“I’m done,” he said and watched her blink.

“What?”

“Done,” he repeated and her head pressed into the pillow as she tilted it to the side in confusion.

“Sorry, I don’t –”

“With this, it was good, buddy, but I’m done.”

He felt her body lock in his arms as the softness of sleep and sex faded from her face and shock and pain replaced it.

His arms, not taking direction from his brain, tightened.

“Done?” she whispered and that shock and pain was heavy in that word.

“Buddy –” he started but she moved.

She tore out of his arms and crawled over him so fast even if he tried, he couldn’t grab her, but he didn’t try.

She pulled her robe on, didn’t bother with her underwear and nightgown, didn’t even pick them up from the floor, she left them where they were.

“Violet,” he called but she belted her robe and he watched her run, the robe billowing out behind her as she went.

He rolled to his back and put his hands to his face, swiping them hard against his skin as he listened to the sliding glass door open then shut.

It cost him to stay still, on his back, in his bed and not go after her. It carved through his gut, the pain acute. The only way to get rid of it was to f**king move, to follow her, to go and get her, to drag her right back.

But he took the pain and stayed put.

Then he rolled to the side and he could smell the scent of her f**king hair on his pillow.

Chapter Four

The Mall

Cal barely got the door to his truck shut when he heard his name.

His eyes went to the sidewalk and he saw Colt, dripping with sweat and coming back from a run, slowing to a walk as he turned up Cal’s drive.

Colt was breathing heavy but not hard, the man was in shape, even six years older than Cal, who was thirty-nine. Colt was built tough and stayed that way.

“Yo,” Cal greeted.

“Can we talk?”

Cal examined Colt’s face and he nodded at what he saw and led the way to his house, not looking toward Violet’s. It had been two weeks since that morning. He’d left the next day and hadn’t been back.

He let them in and Cal went to the fridge in kitchen. He took out a bottle of water and tossed it to Colt who caught it. Then he took out a beer for himself and twisted off the cap, flicking it into the open trash bin.

“We got a problem,” Colt announced after he sucked back some water.

“Yeah?” Cal asked and he took a pull of his beer.

“In the neighborhood,” Colt went on and Cal wasn’t surprised.

Tina Blackstone had hooked up with Cory Jones, a match made in hell. They’d been together on and off for awhile at the same time Cory kept going back to his on and off wife. It wasn’t pretty and it could get loud, though he wasn’t around much to hear it. Cal wasn’t surprised it had escalated into what Colt described as a problem. Tina was a bitch and Cory was a f**kwad.

“What’s up?” Cal asked.

“It’s Violet,” Colt answered and Cal felt that sharp pain carve through his gut.

“Violet?”

Colt leaned a hip against the counter, nodded and took another slug from his water, his face set at one emotion – unhappy.

Dropping his hand, he explained, “Got a call from a Detective Barry Pryor, Chicago PD.”

Fuck.

He didn’t want to know but he asked all the same, “About Violet?”

“Yeah,” Colt nodded. “Pryor was her husband’s partner.”

Fuck!

Past tense, that was not f**king good.

“Was?” Cal asked.

“Her husband was murdered, a hit. He was investigating a local big man, got too close, they whacked him about a year and a half ago.”

Cal clenched his teeth and looked out his front windows. He couldn’t see her house from his vantage point but that was where his eyes aimed.

Cop husband. Murdered. A hit. Now she was alone, shoveling her own goddamned snow and raising two teenage girls.

Jesus, f**king, Christ.

“It isn’t over,” Colt told him and Cal’s eyes went to his friend.

“Come again?”

“Pryor says that Violet caught this guy’s eye.”

Cal’s whole body went tight. She could do that, Violet could. She could catch anyone’s eye. He knew this because she caught his.

“Caught his eye?” Cal asked in a low voice.

“Yeah, bad news, this guy. Thinks he’s untouchable. Apparently, while Vi’s husband was investigating him, he was investigating her husband. Found out about her, liked what he saw, took to her. Pryor thinks that could even be why this guy moved on her husband.”

“You are f**kin’ shittin’ me.”

Colt shook his head. “No,” he said. “Got in her business after the hit, if you can believe that shit, made it clear he was interested after he ordered the hit that killed her f**kin’ husband. Made it so clear, it got unhealthy and she packed up her girls and moved away.”