Page 59 of Taking Denver

Harley finishes her beer, eyeing me in a friendlier way than she had during our first hour together. “You’re not how I expected you to be.”

“Did you think I’d be toting a gun and the missing wedding ring?” I ask, swigging my drink.

“Kinda,” Harley says, and I at least appreciate the honesty. “I am sorry about your husband. I liked him.”

I swallow my surprise with another mouthful of beer. It tastes far more bitter than a minute ago. “He came here?”

Harley pauses. “Yeah, a lot. I thought that was why you wanted the place.”

Darkness, etched with pointless jealousy, curls around my stomach and tugs so tight the beer in my gut turns acidic. I’m still discovering things about a husband I thought I knew. He told me he’d visit bars occasionally, but he’d never mentioned Pulse.

“There were a lot of things I didn’t know about Wyatt, apparently,” I say.

Harley watches me, then raises her drink. “To men sucking.”

I tap my bottle against hers. “To men sucking.”

I finish my drink and hop down from the stool. “I should go. These beers are on you. I just gave you one hell of a pay rise.”

Harley grins. “I’ll be drinking in your honor tonight, too.”

I head outside, smiling, glad I visited Pulse after all. I can maintain the illusion to Ranger that I’m on board with his plan for my life while continuing to do fuck all. It’s a small defiance to get me through the day.

Or I can leave.

The thought has occurred to me numerous times since returning home. To escape San Francisco forever, pull myself from the clutches of darkness, and find myself somewhere bathed in fucking sunlight.

Where? I have no clue. But I know I want somewhere near water, somewhere with salty air and warm breezes. Wesson could swim in the sea, I could stock up on sunscreen, and we could be happy. I could open a coffee shop, have neighbors and friends, and not worry about guns or drugs or people taking photos.

But wouldn’t I always have to look over my shoulder? Ranger would never give up. He’d work his way through any person I cared for until?—

The click of my heels across the open parking lot halts when I spot a man leaning against my car.

“Detective Hayes,” I say. “Did you need something? A ride? Ten bucks?”

“How about a confession? I could clock off early, go home, relax…” he says as I approach. “Do me a favor and lay the truth on me.”

I take my keys from my purse. “The biggest favor I could do for you would be to take you shopping. Don’t you have another suit?” I tug on his burgundy tie. “I bet you’ve got a sexy body under all that polyester.”

He leans his shoulder against the driver’s side door, still grinning at me, and I sigh.

“Can you move?” I say. “I have places to be.”

“You own Pulse now?” he asks, nodding at the building.

“Why? Do you want to take me for a drink?”

“Still on that, are we?”

I bite my lip. “You could be on me if you like.”

He laughs. “Is that your only play? You’re not that hot, sweetheart.”

“Then why are you looking at me like you want to fuck me?”

He isn’t. Not at all. But now that I’ve said it, he’ll picture it, even if it’s just for a second. And that’s a seed I want to plant in his annoying little head.

“Wow,” he says. “That really is the only card in your deck, isn’t it?”

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