Page 114 of Bad Situation

“I read that dog owners are less asshole-ish than those without a four-legged friend. Consider it. You could use all the help you can get.”

His lips tip on one side. “Fuck you.”

“It’s good to see that, under your professionally-tailored dress shirts, you’re the same old Trig.”

He smirks. “And you’re the same obnoxious Jen.”

“I could still kick your ass in a barrel race.” I turn to leave and call over my shoulder. “I look forward to your call on Monday.”

*****

Eli

“Pettit.”

I throw the last box into the bed of my truck but, let’s face it, I don’t have much anyway. The benefit of having nothing when you find the woman who you want to spend the rest of your life with is that the rest of your life starts sooner than later because you hardly have any shit to move.

I look over and squint through the sun. It can’t be.

“Cain? Grady Cain?”

It’s like he came out of nowhere.

I met Grady in Virginia. His woman was mixed up with the MacLachlans and, in the end, he helped take down MacLachlan’s son, Weston.

I looked into him during the investigation since he was connected to Weston’s ex-fiancée. He was an Army Ranger who was discharged years ago and then, he was gone. Totally fell off the radar for years. Even I couldn’t find anything on him and I can dig up anyone’s shit.

Hell, I just did it for Jen with her attorney, which is really against the code since Easton Barrett isn’t under investigation—but that’s me, treading water in that gray area between true north and magnetic north.

They did drop my OPR case, even though I got a warning letter for my file, but I find myself giving fewer shits than I usually do, and that’s saying something since I didn’t give many to begin with. This has all caused me to think about my professional future.

Grady walks between two older cars and offers me his hand. “You moving?”

We shake but I don’t elaborate. “Yeah.”

“You’re getting settled in Texas?” he asks.

“You could say that.”

“Checked up on you not too long ago and you were in a bit of a situation with the Bureau.”

I tip my head. “You’re checking up on me?”

He shrugs and stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets. “You got a second to talk? I’ve got an offer I’d like to pitch.”

I only hesitate for a second because curiosity gets the best of me. “Come on up. There’s still a place to sit but I haven’t lived here in months so I have nothing to offer you to drink. The place is pretty much empty.”

Grady nods. “I’m not a drinker anyway.”

After we get to my apartment, Grady proceeds to talk for an hour straight.

I listen.

And what he tells me blows my mind.

Fuck.

Talk about an offer.

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