Page 107 of Broken

“I get the feelin’ you don’t wanna talk about this in front of everyone.”

“Talk about what?”

“Your client last night.”

There is a snarky comment on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it in and stare at him. Usually that works, it makes people uncomfortable enough to let it go. Not this Irish bastard.

“Ah, I know you’re not one to talk about your shite, but I feel the need to tell ya, she’s a decent lass. I’m a perceptive feller and I can tell she has a past.”

“It’s none of your business.”

He grins. “It’s got that far, ay?”

“Do you have nothing else to do right now? Like fuck off?”

He laughs. “Just sayin’ watch out for her.”

It’s coming from the right place, and he is right. Calli is a good person, and she has a shitty past. They’re all closer to her than I realized. This could be a problem down the road, when I inevitably have to distance myself. If I have to. My brain is scrambled to shit about her right now.

Instead of being a surly asshole, I nod. Then smirk because I can’t let him think I’m getting soft now, can I? I’ve already had a heart to heart with Lucky. Now this?

And I still need to find out what is up with Nero and the scum he had me following. And what he wanted from Phoenix. Bythe way he is hunched over his phone right now, not looking at anyone else, that will not go fucking well.

“I need a drink,” I mutter.

Sumner gets to his feet and slaps me on the back. “Women will do that to ya,” he says and saunters back to his station.

Not everything is right with us today, but we’re good at putting shit behind us and doing what has to be done.

Garrett:

How is the tattoo?

Calli:

Hey. The redness has gone down and it’s not aching anymore

Garrett:

You’re doing what I told you?

Calli:

You could always come and see for yourself

That was the last text I got from her last night after I locked up and went to my apartment. I’m sure she’ll be pissed about my not replying. Then again, women think differently than men.

Worse,everyonethinks differently than me, that is just a fact. I feel bad about not answering, either making plans or telling her no.

Which is why I stand outside her apartment this morning, wondering if she is gonna be mad at me or glad to see me. Either is fine. For me anyway.

What I don’t expect is the disheveled looking woman who opens the door.

Calli stares at me like I’m an apparition, brushing her hair behind her ears. I mean, when I say disheveled, I mean she’s wearing faded pink shorts and a baggy T-shirt, her hair is pulled up in a very messy bun with fly aways around her face. Clearly she consumed too much alcohol.

Damn how much did she have yesterday? It explains why she was bold enough to invite me over. Maybe she forgot. From the way she is staring at me, I’d say she did.

Despite all of that, she’s still hot. I hold up the grocery bag.

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