Page 95 of Colt

“Tell me what?” I demanded.

She stared at me in silence.

I scrubbed a frustrated hand over my face. “Look, we’re goin’ around in circles. I didn’t ask you here to talk about the past. I need your help. There’s bad stuff happenin’ in town, and all roads are leading back to your husband and his lackey.”

She stared at me for what seemed like an eon, thoughts whirring behind her eyes. There was more going on than she was admitting. Weirdly though, I still trusted her.

“I’ll work something out and message you,” she said finally. “It may be short notice. I don’t always know his schedule until the last minute, and there are usually people around. If I get you in, you’ll have to pretend to be workmen or something.”

“Anythin’,” I agreed, a thread of relief lacing my tone. “My brother will be ready to mobilize whenever you can swing it.”

“Good,” she nodded thoughtfully, her gaze raking over me. “You look well, John. How are your kids? I saw Kit with his twins in the coffee house last week. They’re beautiful.”

I smiled indulgently, the same way I did whenever anybody mentioned any of my grandchildren. “They are. And a chip off the old block too.”

She beamed. “I’m happy for you. It was what you always wanted.”

Yeah, Leesy, my inner voice whispered,but I wanted it with you.

We stood there for a while, drinking each other in, trying to get enough of each other to commit to memory until the next time. God only knew when it would be; the times we saw each other like this were few and far between. But then, I guess it had to be that way ‘cause we weren’t us anymore.

The look of longing on her features gradually faded until she smiled. “I’ll be in touch.”

I jerked a nod, watching her turn and head for her car.

“Leesy,” I called out.

Her steps faltered, and she craned her neck. “What?”

“Keep your eyes open at all times,” I pleaded. “If he’s involved in what I think he is, you could be in more danger than you know. Watch your back, and if anything happens, get your ass to the clubhouse, stat. He won’t be able to get to you there.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “That means a lot, John. Thank you.” Then, with a smile, she turned and walked back to her car, slid in, and drove away without a backward glance, taking my soul with her...

Yet again.

Elise

All I ever seemed to do was walk away from John Stone, which was crazy considering he was the one person existing who I yearned to hold on tight to and never let go.

My heart beat solely for him. It always had and would until my last breath.

Our years together were my happiest by far. Every time things got too rough, I’d lie down in my darkened bedroom and regress back to the time when I was his, and he was mine, and not a soul could come between us.

Until they did.

Every step I took in the opposite direction from him felt like I was being torn in two, but what choice did I have? My decisions were taken from me a long time ago, along with everything else that meant anything to me.

I drove for ten minutes, keeping my shit together, then, when it was safe, I pulled the car over, leaned back in my seat, and wept. Seeing him always got me like this. Even catching glimpses of him in the street broke my heart, so a full-blown conversation was torture.

My chest felt heavy like a ton of weight had been dropped on it.

John knew too much, but it didn’t shock me. His club’s involvement was becoming a problem. My Stone always was too curious for his own good. He had an avenging angel complex, and that wouldn’t do at all, not in my line of work.

Leaning down, I pulled my purse from the footwell and rummaged inside for my cell. I scrolled to my most recent call and clicked before holding the phone to my ear.

“Where are you, Elise? There’s an issue with the latest shipment. The boss is trying to contact you.”

I let out an audible sigh. “Can’t I take an hour? Jesus. The incompetence is astounding.” I paused briefly. “We have a problem. John Stone is sniffing around. He wants me to let his men into the house so they can install cameras.” I rolled my eyes at the string of curses floating down the line. “There’s no point cussing God out. It’s not his fault.”

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