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Food was Chris’s love language, and anyone who spent more than ten minutes in her presence knew that.
Carrying her favorite meal from Bark City BBQ like it was a baby, I entered the garage where Chris spent the bulk of her free time. She was an engineer at heart and had a special love of building things. And taking them apart. She’d dismantled more than one bomb and had hotwired countless cars that got us out of a pinch.
She finished screwing a part into an engine, then turned and faced me. I got straight to the point. “I’m sorry. I was stupid and it won’t happen again. I love you.” Her lips pursed as she eyed the bag in my arms. “Food,” I said, holding it out to her like an offering. “Figured you’d be hungry, and it’s been a while since we just hung out.”
Seconds yawned by. Finally, she moved over to the sink in the corner and scrubbed her hands and arms clean of the black grease that stained her skin. As she strode past me, she snagged the food and walked straight outside. I bit back a laugh and followed.
She was digging into her jalapeño mac and cheese with bacon chips when a roaring engine had me looking toward the road, and I caught sight of my brother driving by, his head turned in our direction.
“Does that, uh… happen often?”
“Maybe?” She shrugged but continued to eat. “I hadn’t really noticed.” The tips of her ears turned red, and I narrowed my eyes.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” Boomerang mentioned he heard something happened with me and Reaper but never actually told me where. “Was he by chance anywhere near you when Betty called and told you what happened?” I asked.
She lifted her head but stared over my shoulder, a tactic she used when she was nervous and knew she’d spill her guts if she made it all the way to my eyes. “Um, well, he was at my place. He came to thank me for the whole rescue mission thing. You know, since I was the one who pulled him out or whatever.”
Her cheeks blazed crimson, and I chuckled. There was a reason the team loved playing poker with her. Same reason she refused to play for money. “Christina Mendoza. Do you have a crush on my brother?” Her eyes went wide, and she shoved an entire slice of Texas-style brisket into her mouth, then motioned that she couldn’t talk.
When she finally finished chewing, she swallowed and inhaled deeply. “Let’s focus on the matter at hand, Pey. Thank you for coming here and apologizing. But I will hold you to your promise to never do it again. And thanks for the food.” I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. If she hadn’t been trying to shut down my curiosity over whatever was happening between her and my brother, Chris would have tried to solicit a few more meals from me. I guess I could only be grateful for the opportunity to earn her forgiveness so easily.
Two down, three to go. This was going better than I thought it would.
It took me two days to get the bleach right, but it had turned out perfectly. After the first two shirts disintegrated, I’d almost given up. But I knew making her a copycat of the distressed, acid-washed shirts my aunt made for me was my best shot at earning her immediate forgiveness. I studied my handiwork. She was going to love that I’d used a T-shirt featuring the cover of her favorite album, Red Hot Chili Peppers’Blood Sex Sugar Magik. I was almost sad to part with it, but I was excited for Adrienne to have it.
I parked in front of her townhouse and looked around at the cookie-cutter houses. I was the only one of my team who didn’t live in this neighborhood, but after spending eight years living on top of, around, and underneath five other women, I’d needed my space. My cabin offered the perfect amount of solitude and tranquility after my time in Ghost Unit, and if I wanted chaos, I only needed to go to the office.
When Adrienne opened the door for me, her eyes went straight to the wrapped gift in my hands, and her face lit up. She pulled me inside and held out her hands in a gimme gesture. I couldn’t even pretend to be offended because her reaction was exactly what I’d expected. After handing it over, I walked over to the couch and sat down, eager to see her face when she opened the gift. She didn’t disappoint. Her squeal had me covering my ears, but I grinned when she threw off the shirt she was wearing and pulled the new one on.
“Lookin’ good,” I told her as she strutted up and down the length of her living room like it was her own personal runway. “I have a Salt-N-Pepa shirt for my next screwup.”
She plopped down beside me and dropped her arm around my shoulders. “We all screw up, perfect Peyton.” I rolled my eyes at the name my team used for me whenever I harped on going over the details of a mission for the fifth, tenth, and fifteenth time. “It was bound to be you at some point. Kinda obnoxious it took you ten years, actually.” She giggled. “For real, though. I forgave you like an hour after you told us. It was just too sad. I couldn’t hold a grudge with you looking like someone had stolen your favorite pair of Louboutins.”
I laughed and let myself bask in the relief that I’d earned the forgiveness of another one of my sisters. “Thank you.”
Adrienne pulled me into a hug, then pulled back and gripped both of my shoulders. “So, back to the important shit.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Tell me. Are you getting the good dick? Is it big? Is the promise of the premise real?”
Scoffing, I gently shoved her away. “I am not answering any of those questions.”
“Sure, sure.” She nodded hard. “But seriously, at least tell me how many orgasms he gives you a night?” Her peal of laughter reminded me how lucky I was to have such incredible women in my life and how stupid I was to risk losing their trust.
What had seemed like such a good idea at the time had come back to bite me in the ass. I’d thought that saving the two hardest apologies for last would give me the confidence I needed to deal with Jessen and Tyler. I was wrong.
Jessen was going to want to talk aboutfeelings.The woman was tough as steel, she had to be to dive into the psyche of serial killers, and she wasn’t going to let me off easy. I mulled over my approach as I walked inside the police station that held all the county’s cold cases. Which had become something of an obsession for Jessen.
I signed in and headed down the stairs into the basement. The basement lights were dim, and the low hum of music carried down the rows of tall shelves containing unsolved cases. I found Jessen in her usual spot, at a large table with pictures and reports fanned out around her. She didn’t look up but the stiffness in her shoulders told me she was aware of my presence.
I sat down across from her. “Why do you do this?”
Jessen pushed a gruesome picture toward me and sighed. “Someone needs to remember them. All these cases…” She gestured toward the countless file boxes stacked on the shelves. “The leads have dried up, detectives moved on. If I can help give insight that reignites the investigation on a single one, well, I need to.”
I understood what she meant. I really did. But we dealt with such ugliness, I couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to stay sane when she spent all her free time surrounded by more of it. “I guess I thought maybe you’d rather spend your off time doing something a little less… macabre.”
“It doesn’t bother me. I like it. Whatdoesbother me is when my friend—no,my sister—takes unnecessary risks and jeopardizes our work. And does it with a guy she supposedly doesn’t like.” Jessen leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. I was struck with immense sympathy for any children she ended up having—the woman had a mom-look that could rival the best of them.
“You’re right. What I did was stupid, self-centered, and risky. I made a mistake. There won’t be a repeat performance. I’m sorry.” I swallowed hard and waited. After two solid minutes of facing her silent stare, I had to fight the urge to fidget.
Finally, she closed the folder and set it off to the side. “You like him.”
