“Yes,” she said, hanging on to the door handle. “The diner.”
“Yep.”
“We would have been meeting up even if I hadn’t gone with you,” she said, suddenly very glad she was on this end of the call, and not the other. Because men—violent men—did scare her. There was a place down in her soul that went cold when she saw violence in a man’s eyes. That same part curled up in a ball and cried like a little girl getting kicked, over and over again, by her father.
A memory that was never buried as deep as she wished it were.
Suddenly she felt tense. Tense and transparent. He would know that she was afraid. That heading toward whatever was happening was like walking back into a fractured memory she never wanted to revisit.
Calm the hell down, Sadie. It’s a man creating a disturbance and you’re with a man who has a gun.
She took a deep breath and let her internal pep talk bolster her a little.
“Everything will be okay, right?” she asked, in spite of herself, looking over at him.
“I have a 100 percent success rate on making it through the day. I don’t expect today to be any different.”
She didn’t argue with him about how everyone on earth had the same success rate he did, right up until they didn’t. Because it was too nice to hear him say that. Too encouraging. And it made her warm all the way through. Banished that ice-cold fear. And for now she was going to let it, because it was so much better than being afraid.
They entered the town and her tension rose, metallic fear flooding her mouth, like her internal thermometer had broken, poisoning her with a wave of mercury. Or possibly she was being overdramatic. Hard to tell, what with the fact that she was panicking.
He pulled into the lot of the diner and she saw a group of men standing in the parking lot, and Alison on the fringes, wringing her hands.
“Stay in the car,” Eli said.
“But Alison—”
“Stay. In. The. Car,” he repeated, his words terse as he got out, his hand resting on the top of his gun.
* * *
Eli surveyed the crowd, assessing exactly what was happening. It was what he suspected—a late-morning drunken dispute, which was something that shouldn’t happen, but did—and he doubted anyone’s life was in danger today.
But then, those kinds of thoughts got people killed, and he well knew it, which meant his hand was staying on his gun. He didn’t want to come in looking like a threat, but he wasn’t going to be passive, either.
He knew these guys. Loggers mainly, and unsurprisingly, at the center, Alison’s husband, Jared. He was the drunk one from the looks of things, and the one causing trouble.
“What’s going on here?” he asked, walking over to the knot of men.
“Jared being an asshole,” said Randy, a middle-aged man with a long beard and a tobacco habit that had taken a toll on his teeth.
“Typical day, then,” Mark, a fisherman, added.
“I’m just defending what’s mine,” Jared growled, his expression mutinous and unfocused.
“Jared...” Alison said.
“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” Jared spat in his wife’s direction. “I wouldn’t have to be down here if you weren’t acting like a slut. So shut your whore mouth.”
Eli let out a long slow breath. Because otherwise he would be tempted to get violent. And that wasn’t what he was here for. But the temptation to move in and shut Jared’s mouth with his fist was a lot stronger than he’d expected.
“There’s no need to talk like that,” he said, his tone hard.
“Free speech, Deputy,” he said.
“We could take a vote on whether or not we like your kind of speech,” Bud, not the one from the gas station, said. “I, for one, would cast my vote with my fist.”
“That’s enough,” Eli said. “Is anyone hurt?”
He looked around the group. There was no blood or visible bruising. But there was no way he could say there was no harm done. Alison was ashen. Terrified. And it churned his gut.
“Is anyone wanting to press charges?” he asked.
“Nah,” Mark said. “No one got hurt.”
Dammit.
He could escort Jared home, but that was about it. State laws regarding public drunkenness were essentially nonexistent. A public health concern, not a misdemeanor. And given that no punches had been thrown, he was back at sending Jared back to his house, where Alison would be later. And that gave him no small amount of concern.
“Jared, I’m going to make sure you get home okay.”
“No, thank you, Deputy,” he spat.
“Oh, well, see, that’s not your choice. Get in on your own, or get in in handcuffs.” He turned back to his car and opened the passenger door. “Out, Sadie, I have to make a delivery, and I’d rather you weren’t with me.”
She looked at him with big worried eyes and it made something in his chest twist. She’d been afraid on the way to this call, and he’d dismissed it as normal, civilian fear, but right now he had a feeling it was something different.
Especially when she got out of the car without argument and headed to the side, not approaching the crowd.
