Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(37)

“What I heard just now from you, she’s thrown up her shields, fightin’ you off. She knows you’re diggin’ in with her shit and she might’ve been lookin’ for reinforcements to help her out with that so she could untangle you from it. So she’s got no call to be pissed Ryker knew when she was gonna tell him herself.”

Garrett grinned at his brother-in-law.

Tanner grinned back.

“Thanks, buddy,” he muttered.

“Don’t mention it,” Tanner replied, turning toward his desk.

Garrett moved toward the door.

He stopped when Tanner called, “Merry.”

He looked back to see the man sitting behind his desk.

“Rumors fly. Don’t wanna piss you off, but just sayin’, before some * asks and earns your fist in his face, and straight up, ’cause I’m curious, gotta know so I can shut it down before it blows: Word is, that rack she’s got isn’t all hers.”

“Lots of gifts God gave Cher she doesn’t recognize, that’s one of them. If it isn’t, her surgeon was a master. But, big man, if Cher ever had money to blow on somethin’, she’d use it to give good to her boy. She wouldn’t use it to get her tits done.”

Tanner grinned again. “I’ll take that to mean it’s all hers.”

“Don’t give a f*ck how you take it,” Garrett told him. “Cher and me ever get down to sharin’ medical histories, that in itself would be cause for celebration considerin’ how things are right now. But, seein’ as it’s no one’s business, you can warn every f*ck who might open their trap to me or her about it to keep it shut or they won’t be able to open it since their jaw’ll be wired shut.”

Tanner didn’t miss a beat before he stated, “I’ll take that as you already havin’ your shit together about Cher Rivers.”

Garrett shook his head and muttered, “Whatever.”

He turned to leave again when Tanner called his name again.

He looked back.

“Jesus, brother, what?” he asked.

He asked it before he caught the look on Tanner’s face.

He braced when he caught that look.

“It’d be good to see you happy. It’d be good to see you give what you got to give to a woman who deserves to get it. And it’d be good Cher’s son has a man in his life who isn’t an ex-junkie but is a staple and can offer him a shitload of things he needs to grow up and be a good man. That might not be the end for the three of you. But if it is, man, I’ll be happy for you.”

Garrett fought back clearing his throat before he asked, “You done?”

Tanner grinned yet again. “Yep.”

“Rocky’s made you soft,” he returned.

“That is one thing your sister has never made me.”

Garrett felt his lip curl. “Christ.”

Tanner burst out laughing.

Not even close to that mood, Garrett muttered, “Later,” and took off.

* * * * *

Cher

After my shift, I left out the back door with Darryl opening it for me to keep an eye on me on the way to my car (like he always did, or Morrie did, or Jack did).

I moved down the alley toward my Equinox.

I heard the door close and it did this earlier than Darryl would normally do it.

I knew why.

“Goddamned shit,” I muttered under my breath, seeing Merry leaning against my driver’s side door, his Excursion pulled in against the wall in front of my Chevy.

He didn’t move as my heels clicked their pissed off staccato on the pavement. He just watched me come to him, ankles crossed, arms folded on his chest.

Shit, it totally, seriously sucked he was so hot.

I was five feet away when I snapped my question, “You lose the ability to read?”

The left side of Merry’s lips curled up, but that was the only movement he made.

Asshole.

I stopped three feet in front of him.

“Move out of my way, Garrett,” I ordered.

“So,” Merry said softly, “considering Tanner set Ryker on your church lady, meaning he had things to do, I’m guessin’ Ryker wasn’t in J&J’s to shoot the shit over a beer at high noon.”

Oh f*ck.

He’d figured it out.

How much—in other words, the Carlito business—I didn’t know.

I kept silent.

Merry felt chatty.

“I’m guessin’, in an effort to convince yourself of the bullshit you’re tryin’ to convince me of—that you’re happy spinnin’ your wheels, lettin’ Denny Lowe interrupt your life for good and hunkerin’ down in that fortress of yours until the day you quit breathin’—you made a call to the only man you know who could help you out and collect on his debt in a way you could pay.”

How I got taken in by Denny Lowe telling me that he was a cop, I had no idea. Lowe might have had computer smarts and criminally lunatic genius that kept him free to chop his way through half the United States of America, but he was no cop.

Cops were far more intuitive and it took them no time at all to connect dots.

Then again, back then, I didn’t know any cops.

Now I did.

Which meant I should have known better.

Crap.