Take a Chance on Me(46)

That owning a dive bar was who he was.

He scrubbed harder, refusing to think about the small box sitting on his desk that was filled with the details of Luke’s case. All night he’d been eyeing it like a gunslinger, each time turning away and closing the office door behind him.

It was wrong. Instead of the surge of rightness he’d been half expecting, it felt like pretending. Acting at something he didn’t have a right to any longer. Reminding him how his golden f*cking life had gone to shit and how he’d never even fought for it.

That was the problem with growing up privileged. No survival skills.

The bar door swung open and Charlie walked in, bringing in a gust of warm, humid air. Thankful for the distraction, Mitch nodded. “How’s things?”

Dressed in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, Charlie slid onto a stool. “I just got off and thought I’d swing by.”

Mitch opened the cooler and pulled out a bottle of Bud, twisting off the cap before pushing it toward Charlie. “How was your shift?”

“Boring as hell.” Charlie scrubbed his hand over the dark stubble lining his jaw. He didn’t have to say anything else. Boring as hell was okay for some guys, but Charlie wasn’t one of them. Once upon a time, Charlie had tracked down serial killers for the FBI. Small-town police work was something he could do in his sleep.

Tossing the towel onto the cooler, Mitch said, “Yeah, well, what can you do?”

Charlie took a long swallow of beer. “If the boys could see us now, huh?”

Mitch made a grim sound of disgust. “They’d be laughing their asses off.”

Charlie shook his head as though trying to shake loose the bad mood. He took another sip before shifting on the stool. “So, about you and the bride.”

Not wanting to discuss this again, Mitch shrugged. “I told you already, I’m giving her a place to crash, no big deal.”

“For the low price of two grand.”

“Goddamn it,” Mitch shouted before lowering his voice.

Charlie grinned. “No worries, I think Tommy only told me, Gracie, Sam, and maybe a few other people.”

Mitch gritted his teeth. “So basically the whole f*cking town.”

Charlie picked up the bottle of beer and took a sip. “They won’t tell Maddie. She’s an outsider and everyone loves a secret.”

Agitation pricked along Mitch’s skin.

“He also mentioned you were taking Luke’s case,” Charlie said, too casually.

“I was blackmailed.” Mitch crossed his arms over his chest and clenched his hands into fists.

“Yeah, he mentioned that.” Charlie nodded. “Don’t get too tangled. She’s leaving.”

“No shit.” Mitch kept his tone light despite the tightness in his chest.

Charlie pinned Mitch with an assessing look. “After Sara, I’d thought you’d given up the taken ones.”

“Maddie is not unavailable.” Mitch fired the words like bullets. Yes, she’d been supposed to get married a couple of days ago, but she was available. To him. “What’s your problem, anyway?”

“No problem.” Charlie’s black eyes watched him in that hawklike way he had: like he was waiting for the smallest fraction of error before he dive-bombed. That look had made him one of the best in the Bureau. He’d had an uncanny ability to spot a crack and let it spiderweb out until the whole story shattered at a suspect’s feet. “Just be careful.”

Hackles raised, Mitch smoothed his expression into a stoic mask. “It’s five f*cking days.”

One dark brow rose up Charlie’s forehead. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Mitch scoffed. “Are we done?”

Gaze steady, Charlie studied Mitch for an uncomfortably long time before he shrugged. “There’s one more thing.”

“What?”

“What exactly has she told you about her brothers?”

“That she has three of them? So what?”

“They’ll be looking for her soon, and I’m not sure you want them coming this way.”

“Why are you digging into her background? She’s harmless.” Mitch gritted his teeth and waited for Charlie to continue while foreboding crept over his skin like a rash.

“I didn’t dig. You asked me to look her up to see if I could find out any information on her stolen credit card.”

Oh, yeah, he’d forgotten. “And?”

Charlie shrugged. “She’s not reported missing, and there’s no official police report of her stuff being stolen.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s interesting, considering her brothers. One seems fairly harmless: he’s a professor at University of Chicago. Although his name sounded familiar, and I can’t quite pinpoint where I heard it before.”

“So?” The thin thread of his patience started to fray.

“Like I said, he’s not the problem. I’m more worried about the other two. I’m guessing she didn’t mention one of her brothers is Evan Donovan?”

“The pro football player?” Donovan wasn’t exactly as common as Smith, but it was common enough that he’d never connected the names. Besides, why would he connect the petite, flame-haired Maddie with the six-five athlete?