For You (The 'Burg #1)(43)

Still, he fit the profile.

“Colt?” He heard Feb call.

He was looking at his lap and thinking about Denny Lowe and missed Feb coming out of his room. His head came up and he saw her dark silhouette in the hall.

Damn it all to hell, now he was going to have to tell her about this.

“Give me a second Feb,” he muttered, twisted and turned on the light behind him then twisted back, saw her wearing nothing but a big t-shirt, her cat in her arms. He aimed his eyes at his lap so he wouldn’t get another glimpse of her legs and said into the phone, “Why’s Denny on your hook?”

“He’s disappeared. His wife has too. No one answering the door and he’s not been to work. They said he has the week off.”

“So maybe he’s on vacation.”

“Maybe. His car sure as f**k is gone but no airlines have him or his wife on their reservations list. Family and friends don’t know anything about a vacation. And you use your credit card on vacation. No transactions on hers or his. Funny thing, though, last coupla months Denny Lowe has been making hefty withdrawals from their joint account. Sum total, he withdrew fifteen G’s.”

That cold slithered around his chest and he asked, “Where’s he got his account?”

“County Bank.”

Shit, where Amy worked.

“Sounds like that hook’s in deep,” Colt remarked.

“Deep enough for you to talk to Feb about him,” Sully said.

Fucking shit.

He lifted his head, found her eyes, noticed she’d leaned a shoulder against the wall and her cat was purring as she scratched his neck and said, “She’s here. Just in from J&J’s.”

“After the scene at the Station maybe you should get some bourbon in her before you do it.” Sully was trying to make a joke.

Colt didn’t feel like laughing. “Feb drinks rum.”

“Right,” Sully still thought it was funny. “Heard about today at J&J’s, man. That shit’s flying around town faster’n snot. I know you like that house, hope you two can live under the same roof without that roof blowin’ clean off.”

Colt was losing patience. “You wanna chat or you want me to talk to Feb?”

“Get the rum. Talk to Feb.”

“Later.”

Colt started to take the phone away from his ear but Sully’s call stopped him. “Colt?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you don’t wanna hear it but I’m gonna say it. Accordin’ to Lorraine, you two were born to be together. And what I heard Feb say yesterday…” He let that hang but before Colt could get in word one, Sully continued. “You don’t sort your and her shit out, man, it’ll be a tragedy.”

“You done?” Colt asked.

“I’m done.”

“I’ll call you if there’s something to report. Later.”

“Later.”

He flipped his phone shut and threw it on the coffee table. His eyes went to Feb and she was still leaning against the wall, holding her body like she was bracing.

“You still drink rum?” he asked her.

“Just tell me,” she replied.

He threw back the blanket and got up, walking to the kitchen. He flipped on the lights and went to the cupboard where he kept his spirits. Dee drank rum like Feb, he knew he had a bottle and he was right. He pulled it down along with the Jack and grabbed some glasses.

“Colt, seriously,” she said to his back.

“What do you cut it with?” he asked.

He heard her sigh then she said, “I’ll get it.”

He twisted to her. “You mix enough drinks. What do you cut it with?”

She stopped moving toward the fridge, stood still for a moment then headed to the opposite counter. He watched her lean against it but drop her cat.

“Diet,” she finally answered.

He opened his fridge and couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Holy f**k.”

The fridge was brimming with food and beverage. It’d never been that full, not even when Melanie lived there and Melanie loved to cook.

“What?” Feb asked.

“Jackie’s been here,” Colt answered, grabbing a couple of cans of pop, diet for her then he put his back, thinking he’d prefer his bourbon cut only with ice.

He mixed her drink, poured his, dumped ice in, handed hers to her and stood close. She had her back to the counter; Colt had his side to it. She had her waist against it and he rested his hip beside her.

He watched her take a drink, her eyes on the floor.

“Don’t know if I can soften this, February,” he told her the God’s honest truth.

“Don’t try,” she told the floor.

“He did someone you know, in Colorado, guy named Butch Miller.”

Her head twisted around so fast the drink in her hand shook and the ice clinked against the sides.

“Colorado?” she asked quietly.

Colt nodded.

“Butch?” She was still being quiet.

Colt nodded again.

She took another drink, this time definitely a drink not a sip, and her eyes returned to the floor.

“This guy do you wrong?”

She licked her lips, kept studying the floor and nodded her head.