Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(40)

“Stealing people’s children? You sleep well, you cunt?”

She jerked at the words. “Who is this?” Her voice came out a breathy demand, but at least she wasn’t stammering. She’d dealt with disgruntled parents before. She’d been called ugly things before. She didn’t take it personally. The rewards of her job made this occasional verbal attack worthwhile. In moments like this, she just had to remember that.

“What? You steal so many kids from their parents, you can’t guess who this is?” the voice demanded.

“If you would like to lodge a formal complaint—”

“I’m complaining to you, bitch. You’re the kidnapper who took my kids.” She thought back to the last child she had placed in foster care just yesterday. A little girl. Faith didn’t recall any men in the picture when she had searched Hannah Moriarty’s background for relatives to take her. The mother had been MIA for days. The little girl had gone to a neighbor when her mother had left her alone.

“You belong in jail,” he continued. “Or worse.”

Or worse. It didn’t take much imagination to realize what he meant by that. Still, his words made her shiver a little. She’d dealt with unhappy people before. They only needed to blow off steam and she was a good target for that. Even so, that didn’t mean she didn’t have her moments where she wondered if maybe she should have been a music teacher. Or an architect. Something with a little less day-to-day drama.

His words flayed her like bullets. “Enjoy your sleep, bitch. While you can.”

The phone went dead. She pulled it back and stared at it for a moment before setting it back down.

“Who was that?” Wendy asked from her desk across the way, looking at Faith curiously.

Faith shook her head. “Just someone that wanted to nominate me for Social Worker of the Year.”

“Riiiight.” Wendy snorted as she lifted her coffee cup and took another sip. “So you never answered my text. I want the scoop on your date.”

“It was nice.”

“Uh-oh.”

She angled her head. “What?”

“Nice. That’s the kiss of death.”

She stifled her wince. “What are you talking about? That’s not true.”

Wendy lifted her eyebrows in disbelief. “I’m just saying I’ve been on a lot of nice first dates. Sometimes they make it to a second date . . . even a third. But notice, I’m still single?” She wiggled her fingers, pointing to her ring finger for emphasis.

Faith shook her head. “Well, I want a nice guy so a nice date is just fine with me.”

“Oh, Faith.” Wendy tsked, moving her head in a reproving motion. “Don’t you want passion? A guy that can drop your panties with one look? Chemistry is an important foundation.”

Chemistry! She sounded like North. Faith would bet that Wendy would tell her to go for it—to go for him.

“I thought friendship was the most important foundation,” she countered.

Wendy made a pfft sound and waved her hand in dismissal. “What will keep you warm at night? Friendship or a sexy beast of a man, ready for a romp—”

“Okay, okay, Wendy.” Faith cut her off as their supervisor walked between their offices, sending them both speculative glances.

Faith swung back around and returned her attention to her laptop. Unfortunately Wendy’s words replayed through her head and made her think. And wonder. She already knew North could make her panties drop.

But Wendy was wrong. It wasn’t enough. Not long-term. Passion wasn’t everything. It wasn’t enough. She needed friendship. She needed nice, too.

If that meant she had to leave dirty, gritty passion for others, then so be it. It wasn’t for her. Not for Faith Walters.

She’d have to learn to let that go.





SIXTEEN




Faith had just arrived home from work when her doorbell rang. She opened it to find her brother standing there. The fading sunlight limned his powerful figure. He held up a bag with a giant grease stain on the bottom of it. The delicious aroma of savory smoked meats drifted toward her.

“Bob’s BBQ?” he offered, waggling the bag.

She clapped her hands together in delight. “You’re a saint.”

“Remember that the next time you’re mad at me.”

Hale entered her house and dropped the bag on her kitchen table, doubtlessly leaving a giant grease stain on her place mat. He started pulling out foil-wrapped ribs, sausage and brisket from the bag and setting them on the table.

“God. There’s enough for an army here.”

“Leftovers,” he explained. “Dig in.”

She grabbed two plates. They loaded them and ate with gusto. She licked the barbecue sauce from her fingers and talked about work—failing to mention the phone call from earlier today. That would only set him off and she didn’t want to ruin their dinner.

“Still dating Cooper?” he asked before taking a thick bite of brisket and then chasing it down with a bite of pickled jalape?o.

She froze over the rib she was about to bite into. “You heard about that?”

“Small town,” he replied, taking a sip from his glass of tea.

“Didn’t know you listened to gossip.” Wendy alone was probably responsible for spreading that bit of information.