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Including the notes I’d written about my discussion with Mustang. Damn it. If I knew the man at all, he’d think I betrayed him. He’d likely be angry with his friend as well. Shit. What had I done? No, he shouldn’t have been snooping. This was my house. My rules. He walked into a closed-door room and invaded my privacy.
While you were invading his.
That wasn’t accurate. I was trying to help him.
By sleeping with him?
My little voice couldn’t understand the complexity of balancing professionalism with the need that even now burned deep within. Instead of waking me up, challenging me as to what I was doing, he’d walked out.
Another note to make about the man. He avoided confrontations when real emotions were involved.
Only that wouldn’t go into his regular file. That was very personal and something I’d keep all to myself.
As I eased onto the chair, all I could do was groan.
After placing the weapon on the desk, I yanked out the notes from my conversation with Mustang. What in the world could have happened before he turned eighteen that was so horrific? I sifted through the papers until I found his personal information going back to when he was a child, detailed as part of a mental evaluation he’d received. As I scanned the information, it seemed he had normal parents who worked hard to put food on the table.
His grades weren’t fabulous, but they weren’t terrible either. He’d graduated with a B average. There was no noted family tragedy of any kind. If there were any issues with law enforcement, they’d been expunged. What was I missing? As I drummed my fingers on the desk, I decided to turn to the internet, allowing my fast fingers to fly.
I typed in various headers on Google, coming up with nothing. Even when I used his name, stories regarding his return from the dead took up more than one page. I continued flipping, barely scanning the headings. Then one registered too late, prompting me to go back.
Bingo.
I pulled up the article, which was a truncated version of the front page of a then local newspaper. The facilities in their entirety had burned, including all the records and past articles. The three paragraphs were all I was going to get.
A fire.
At the Sapphire Range.
Unfortunately, I was way too young to remember anything about it. “Six young men, all under the age of eighteen are lucky to be alive given the horrific fire occurring on Sapphire Ridge,” I read out loud, skimming a couple other sentences. Then hairs stood up on the back of my neck. “According to some prominent members of the community, the young men, also known as the Bad Boys of Missoula, were responsible not only for setting the fire but for…” I lifted my head. “The death of a young woman.” I took a deep breath. Was there some correlation as to what happened in Afghanistan to the fact the girl died on Sapphire Ridge?
The few other details in the limited story were of almost no use. There was no mention of the girl’s name or whether or not charges had been filed. Given their age and the timeframe, I doubted there would be but so much information left regarding what happened.
What I did know is that karma obviously hated me.
Without a doubt Snake wouldn’t show up to his appointment. Even worse, my instinct told me he’d never want to see me again.
Maybe I’d really believed something could come out of what had started. Or maybe I’d involuntarily been looking for a protector.
For some crazy, emotional, undetermined reason, I lowered my head onto the desk and started to cry.
CHAPTER10
Snake
As soon as Mustang opened the door, I threw a hard punch, knocking him all the way to the floor.
“What the fuck?” he barked, immediately rubbing his jaw.
“Don’t you dare get in my business ever again. Do you hear me?” I took a long stride backward then spun on the heels of my boots, storming toward my truck. Seconds later, I felt a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around.
“What are you talking about?” He rubbed his jaw, glaring at me incredulously.
“You stood there at the bar acting like you didn’t know who she was.” I took another swing, anger tearing through me like wildfire.
Mustang smashed his fist against my jaw, the force pitching my head to the side. As soon as Zorro bonded out onto the porch, Apollo went nuts, trying to claw his way out of the truck.
“Now you’ve upset Danni’s dog,” he growled, taking a step back and reaching for the long-haired black Irish setter. “She’s gonna be pissed at you even more than I am right now.”
