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“He usually takes a night before he comes home. Shakes it off.”
Alone. Not wanting to bring the darkness back to Daisy, to his family.
Reath wasn’t finished. “He loves to blame himself, for not being quicker, smarter—”
I jerked to my feet. “That’s crazy. It’snothis fault.”
Reath watched me for a beat. “That urge to blame himself runs deep in Colt.”
From long ago. I clutched my hands together. From losing his mom, his sister.
Reath nodded, like he could hear my thoughts. “Be there for him, Macy.”
33
COLT
Swinging out of my truck, I slammed the door.
It didn’t help.
Frustration, anger, and tiredness were a bad combination.
I waved to Reath’s guard on the way into my garage. At least Reath had kept me updated, and I knew everyone was safe.
Cullen was still on the loose. I scowled. I’d tracked him to an abandoned house where he’d holed up, but the guy was as slippery as a… I was too tired to think of a decent fucking simile. Hell, I only knew what a simile was because Daisy had been learning about them a few months back.
Cullen had run. I’d chased him across several backyards before I’d lost him. I blew out a breath, and headed upstairs.
Reath had left a message, and was following up some leads on Warner. I’d missed seeing Daisy, and finding out how her first day of school had gone. My jaw creaked from grinding my teeth. My little girl would be sleeping soundly now.
Wasn’t the first time I’d missed something important, and probably wouldn’t be the last. Luckily, she had Lola and my brothers to plug the gaps. And Macy.
Macy had texted me a picture of the two of them at dinner time, both of them with their hair in pigtails and pulling funny faces. I’d saved it as the background on my phone.
It was after 10 PM, so I figured Macy would be asleep, as well. Reath told me she’d had an uninteresting day at the office.
I was in a filthy mood. Deciding I needed a drink to shake things off before I headed upstairs, I exited my warehouse. Dante’s nightclub was just across the parking lot his staff used.
When I headed into Ember, I paid little attention to the fancy black and gold décor. The place was full, as it was most nights. I skirted the crowd and found an empty stool at the bar. I nodded at Dante’s head bartender, Venus. The attractive Black woman eyed me for a second, then pulled a bottle of bourbon off the top shelf.
“Rough day, Colt?”
“Something like that.” She handed me a glass. “Thanks.” I took a sip, willing it to wash away the bad taste in my mouth.
Two women in short skirts, laughing and talking, moved up beside me. When they tried to get my attention, I didn’t glance their way. I wasn’t interested in any company. I stared at the amber fluid in my glass. I rarely drank more than one or two, because it never held any answers, and I never wanted to turn into my father.
The women beside me suddenly fell quiet, and I sensed them looking into the crowd.
“Oh, dibs,” one drawled. “He’s not from around here, but I want him.”
I lifted my head, and saw Boone Hendrix walking toward the bar.
It was clear that he wasn’t part of the usual party crowd, and his military training was obvious in the way he moved. He wore dark pants and a gray button-down shirt. He was tall, with broad shoulders and brown hair.
He didn’t give the women a single look as he sat on the stool beside me. “Colt.”
“Boone. Buy you a drink?”
