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“Gonna be an adjustment,” Coach told him. “Shady Valley is a small-ass town.”
“With a thriving criminal underbelly, I hear,” he said.
“Yeah. We got us. Then the Murphy brothers. Irish mafia. An alley of ours. The Novikoff brothers. Russians. Then there’s Erion and Czar who seem to be working together these days. And, well, I guess Gav too,” he said, making my stomach tighten at the mention of him.
I knew I needed to be working on Everleigh’s case. It sounded sappy as fuck to admit it, but time working on that meant time away from Everleigh. And, as it turned out, it was getting harder and harder to leave her. Even just to run errands and shit. Having to go out for days on end to try to chase down leads? That was gonna be fucking torture. And she couldn’t come with me.
Coach drove down through the main area of town, pointing out the very few stores and restaurants we had, giving Colter the tour of the town, then pausing outside of Nyx’s place, where Rook rushed out of and hopped in the back with Colter.
“Rook,” he said, shaking Colter’s hand.
“Hiding from your P.O.?” Colter asked with a smirk.
“Lemme guess. You didn’t get her?” Rook asked, envy clear in his voice, then on his face when Colter confirmed that.
“She’ll be outta your life eventually,” Coach reminded Rook, who seemed to get more and more upset about the arrangement with each passing day. And when Nancy wasn’t letting him visit his ma in the psych facility, I guess I could understand why he was so worked up about it.
“Not soon enough,” Rook said, exhaling hard. “I saw Riff and Raff rolling through town,” he said after a second, trying to shake off his mood.
“Yep. They’ll be around for a few days,” I said.
“Sounds like we’re gonna party tonight,” Rook said, smirking. “You are overdue,” he said, nodding at Colter.
“What kinda party are we talking?” Colter asked.
“Booze, girls, good times,” Rook said.
“Food?” Colter asked.
“Gotta ask Detroit about that,” Rook said, nodding toward me.
“I’m cooking,” I agreed. I figured Everleigh would likely pitch in with me, not seeming to be much of a party girl, but not wanting to be seen as anti-social by staying upstairs either. “Got any requests?” I asked.
“Steak. A fucking steak,” Colter said. “Been dreaming about real meat for years. Mashed potatoes not from a box,” he went on. “Vegetables not from a can. And something sweet.”
“Everleigh has the sweet covered,” Coach said.
“We got Everleigh cooking now too?” Rook asked, always feeling a bit out of the loop because he wasn’t allowed to live with us yet.
“Baking,” I clarified. “She likes to bake. She’s on an autumn baking kick. Pumpkin pie, apple cider donuts…”
“Think she could make a chocolate cream pie?” Colter asked.
“I can ask,” I said, nodding, but I knew she would agree to do it.
“Fuck,” Colter said as he walked into the common space of the clubhouse, his gaze moving around, trying to take it all in. “Cat,” he said, reaching down to scoop up Cat, flipping him upside down to hold him like a baby. And the fucker started to purr like it was the greatest thing in the world. “Dogs too?” he asked as Murphy’s dogs walked into the room, eyeing the stranger with curiosity, and maybe a little suspicion. They were her guard dogs, after all.
“Miranda and Samantha,” Rook told him as he moved forward to pet the German Shepherds. “Also got chickens out back. Oh, and Dell’s dog. Little Corgi. Thinks everyone is his best friend. He’s not always here, though.”
It seemed like Colter was easy with animals, putting the cat down to give each of the dogs a solid petting.
“Fucking miss my dog,” he said with a deep sigh. “He passed right before I got home from my last tour.”
The poor bastard.
Lost his dog.
Then found out his best friend was fucking his wife.
