Page 45 of Gonzo's Grudge
“The past can’t be undone. But we can move forward attempting to do better, be better,” she whispered. “It counts just to try. Are you trying to be better, Gabriel?”
I looked down at her. “You say that like it’s all so easy.”
“It is,” she said. “If you make it so. You gotta forgive yourself for the past and promise yourself a better future.”
I didn’t have language for the way that landed. Mostly what I had was heat in my chest and a tightness in my throat men like me are taught to turn into fists. I turned it into a kiss instead.
It wasn’t the one that takes over—no teeth, no press against a wall. Just mouth to mouth, slow as a promise. She made a sound I felt all the way through my body and cupped the back of my neck, gentle like I was something worth touching carefully.
“Gabriel,” she whispered against my mouth. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to. I’m with you and that’s exactly where I want to be.”
“Yeah,” I managed, and tasted the word like I wanted to keep it. “Okay.”
We went back inside. I poured coffee—hers with too much sugar, mine black enough to strip paint. The chair was still wedged under the knob; it made me feel like I’d done something even though it wouldn’t slow a determined man more than a second.
Shanks texted:
Locksmith eta 40.
IvaLeigh watched me do all that without interrupting. Then she requested the one thing I had avoided talking about. “Tell me what’s next with GJ.”
I leaned back against the counter and let the club in. “Burn’s digging. We’ve got a thread on why he was set up. But I can’t rush it. One wrong move and I can’t get my son out of this.”
“Okay,” she muttered, studying me. “So we buy time. We keep him alive. We stack proof.” She counted on her fingers. “I can help—research, filing requests, sorting, whatever it takes.”
I shook my head before I could stop it. “No.”
She held my stare. “No?”
“Not yet,” I said. “The closer you get to this the more it may burn you. You already glow in rooms you shouldn’t be in. I’m not painting a target on your back because you can type faster than a prospect.”
She folded her arms. “I’m not glass.”
“I know,” I replied, gentle as I could make a word like that. “That’s what scares me.”
Her jaw worked, stubborn and beautiful. Then she sighed. “Compromise.”
“Name it.”
“You tell me what I can research,” she began. “I won’t ask for files. I won’t stick my nose in meetings. But give me the language. So when someone else pops up with a key, I don’t stare at you like I’m lost because I didn’t know your son had a room here and that you two were as close as you are..”
I almost smiled. “Deal.”
The locksmith came. Shanks came with him, leaning in the doorway with a go-bag and a smirk that died when he saw the chair under the knob. “Ex?”
“Yeah.”
He jerked his chin. “You want a code lock?”
“Key and code,” I said. “Two bolts. Window latches. Shed’s got a new padlock.”
He tossed me a small metal tag. “Fresh keys. Three. I keep one in the safe in case you do something stupid like lose it in a bar fight. Don’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I laughed because he had.
His eyes slid to IvaLeigh, then to me again. He saw more than he said. “You good?”
“Work the list,” I commanded without sharing anything else.
