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“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, come on, give me a little bit of credit. Why else would they turn away good business?”
He sighed and sat back down. “Okay. You’re right. I made sure they wouldn’t tattoo you.”
“You realize you can’t pay off every tattoo shop in Colorado, don’t you?”
“Jade”—he took my hand—“I’m asking you. Please, if you love me, don’t get that tattoo.”
His eyes showed his seriousness. I saw a sadness, a determination, a hardness.
“If it means so much to you, I won’t get that particular tattoo. Maybe I could find another image of a phoenix that I like.”
He squeezed my hand, hard. “Please, Jade, not a phoenix.”
I gulped. “Why? Can you tell me why?”
He shook his head.
“Talon, I know that there’s a lot bottled up inside of you, and I haven’t even begun to explore all of it. I know all of that, yet I love you. This obviously means something to you, is important to you in a way that I don’t understand. Please, if you love me, please tell me why you don’t want me to get a phoenix tattoo.”
“I can’t.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. Your horse is named Phoenix, for God’s sake.”
“There are things. Things I just can’t explain to you now.”
“Will you be able to explain them to me at some point?”
He turned to me, took both my hands in his, his eyes serious. “I hope so, blue eyes. I sincerely hope so.”
* * *
Back to work the next day, and still Larry didn’t show. I ended up in court again on a domestic violence case that I had no clue about. I felt bad that I had been short with Michelle again. It wasn’t her fault he hadn’t shown up.
Once I got back, I was able to call my dad and check in on Brooke. She’d had a few other bouts of regaining consciousness, but they hadn’t lasted long. The way work was going, with Larry nowhere to be found, I wouldn’t have time to go visit Brooke until the weekend.
Near the end of the day, Michelle came to my door and told me the mayor was here to see me.
“Sure, send him in.” I had no idea what was going on, but the assistant city attorney certainly didn’t turn down the mayor.
A tall man with silvery hair and blue eyes entered, dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt. Even Larry hadn’t dressed that casually, except on Fridays, when he came in wearing shorts and flip-flops sometimes.
“Jade”—he held out his hand—“I’m Tom Simpson.”
I remembered his name from the article I had read about Talon’s homecoming and heroism. I stood and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. What can I do for you?”
He gestured to my chair. “Please, have a seat.” He took a seat opposite my desk. “Have you heard from Larry Wade at all?”
I shook my head. “Last time I saw him was Friday when he left the office.” I chose not to tell him that I thought I might’ve seen him at the hospital in Grand Junction later that night. I couldn’t be sure it was him, so why rock the boat?
“We’ve all been trying to get hold of him,” Simpson said. “But since no one seems to know where he’s gone—not his ex-wife, not his kids, not anyone—I need to make some changes in this office.”
Shit, was I about to be fired? Not that I relished this job too much, working for such an unethical bastard, but it was putting money in my pocket for the time being. “Understood. What needs to be done?”
He smiled. “As of tomorrow morning at eight a.m., you are the acting city attorney, Ms. Roberts.”
I widened my eyes. “I am?”
