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“Yeah, Kip will be here soon.”
Her boyfriend’s name reminded me of a brand of dog food. I know that sounded mean, but he was nice enough, just so boring. Not to mention their names together as a couple was nauseating – Kip and Kat.
I wanted to gag.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I promised, knowing I’d be back for another closing shift.
I left the bar with one of the bouncers as an escort. Boomer and Dodge kept the peace at our little bar – Billiards & Buds – and the club across the street. I could see the neon signs for Forever 21 glittering like diamonds in the dark cloudless night.
Boomer left me once I was behind the wheel of my car and I drove home in silence, not bothering to switch on the radio. I don’t listen to music often. Song lyrics have a way of reminding me of my past.
I hate it.
My past and music, just to clarify.
The dark garage was empty when I pulled inside and parked next to my apartment building. Walking quickly to the elevator, I scanned my surroundings, holding my pepper spray in one hand and my keys spread out through my fingers in the other. If anyone tried to jump or hurt me, I wasn’t going down without a fight.
I slipped inside my apartment and dropped my purse on the coffee table without incident. You never know who could be lurking in the dark and I’ve learned not to take any chances. Before I could get comfortable my doorbell rang. What the hell? Who was coming over this late?
I peeked through the little peephole of my apartment door and opened it, crossing my arms over my chest. “What do you want Sims?” I never called him detective. He was always super annoyed with that, but I didn’t care. I got stuck with my stupid hick name, and he ended up on the other end of my sarcastic disrespect.
Win, win.
“Can I come in?”
I shrugged and stepped aside, noticing he took off his jacket and shoes by the front door. He must be planning to stay awhile which meant something was up.
“Have you watched the news tonight?”
?
?A little. Why?”
His long strides made quick work of my living room as he crossed to the kitchen, “Can I make a pot of coffee?”
I nodded, staring at him in confusion, “What happened?”
“Bryce Hutchinson was stabbed and is in critical condition at Juniper East Hospital.”
“What?” I sank into a nearby chair in surprise.
“And shot too actually,” he admitted, pouring two cups of coffee and setting one in front of me with the pint of half and half and my chipped sugar bowl. He always drank his black.
“How? By whom?”
“Well, we have our suspicions, but nothing is confirmed yet.”
“Meaning you know who it is but you aren’t ready to release it to the public,” I answered, slightly annoyed. Honestly, I was shocked he was here telling me anything. “Why are you here?”
Sims leaned back in his seat and sighed, the front legs of the chair rising up off the floor, “I’m concerned for your safety.”
“Because?”
“We both know you aren’t far enough from Providence.”
“Bryce is an Outlaw so you must think the RRMC has something to do with it.”
“Perhaps, but I . . . we can’t be too careful. If it became common knowledge you were this close, only a few towns away, there might be retribution.”
