He said nothing, just stared at me with an alertness that was a little hot but also a little freaky.

“Now, you tell anyone about this shit, we’re done,” I told him, and his alert went into overdrive, charging the room.

I ignored it.

“I mean that, Garrett,” I stated. “This is my business and I’ll deal with it the way I see fit. If I gotta call folks in, I’ll do it. You keep your mouth shut or what we got you wanna keep you’ll lose. I’m not jokin’ with you. I’m all kinds of serious.”

Finally, he spoke.

“The woman you are.”

“The woman I am,” I confirmed.

“What woman is that, Cher?” he asked.

Was he serious?

He’d said it his damned self to Colt.

Woman she is, she knows…

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” I hissed.

“He played you,” Merry declared. “A million other women would have bought his shit the same as you.”

We were not doing this.

“Stop it,” I spat.

“Goddamned truth,” he pushed. “I know, babe, I’m in the business. Women buy shit like that all the time. The extremes may vary, but you are far from the only one.”

I couldn’t do this, and more, I wasn’t about to.

So I put a hand to my hip, cocked my head, and asked, “Shit, darlin’, two-for-one special? You give me five orgasms and heal all my emotional wounds? Shoulda signed up for that plan years ago.”

His mood deteriorated instantly.

“Don’t be a bitch,” he clipped.

“Don’t pretend you know fuck all about what’s goin’ on in my head,” I shot back.

“Maybe, you let the door to that fortress you built around you open an inch, I can get in and you’ll find I do know fuck all about what’s goin’ on in your head, I give a shit about you, and I wanna see you let it go and find yourself some happy.”

“That doesn’t happen for girls like me, Merry,” I told him.

“That’s bullshit, Cher,” he told me.

I jabbed my hand with the envelope at him. “You do not know what it’s like to live my life.”

“Open the door an inch, Cher. I get through, we’ll sit down and you can tell me.”

“Fuck that,” I snapped.

He rocked back on his heels, his eyes burning into mine, and murmured, “Right.”

Goddamn it!

It was time to end this, and at that moment, I didn’t care how much I was ending.

“You know, straight up, baby, I got a choice between Garrett Merrick, the guy I shoot the shit with, and Garrett Merrick, the man who gives phenomenal head, I pick door number two because you’re good with your mouth, but you’re better with your cock.”

No hesitation, he returned fire.

“You give it good too, sweetheart. Best I had in fuckin’ years. You’re ready to go again, you give me a call and I’m there.”

“Ethan’s next sleepover, or the next time I gotta eat shit and send him to my ex and his bitch, you’re on.”

“Find out you held out on me, after shift you’ll have a caller, and your mom can look after your boy while you’re takin’ my cock in my bed.”

“You’re on for that too.”

His eyes continued burning into mine as he rumbled, “I’m not fuckin’ with you, Cher.”

“Back at you, Garrett.”

“Then it’s on,” he announced.

“Oh yeah, baby. It’s on,” I agreed with enticing acid.

He lifted a finger my way and declared, “Then we got a deal. And you know how I deal, Cher. You know the man I am.” He dropped his hand. “You’re officially takin’ my cock, I officially take your back. I won’t say shit to anyone, but one goddamned thing happens with your ex and his bitch, you tell me. You don’t, we got problems.”

“Uh…think you forgot somethin’, boss. I take your cock ’cause I want to. That’s it.”

He shook his head, his eyes still scorching into mine. “Oh no,” he whispered, a sound that crawled over my skin in a way I couldn’t figure out if it was good or bad. “I’m seein’ you think you know the man I am, but you don’t fuckin’ know. Only way with me is my way. We made our deal. You got no choice now but to do it my way.”

“Don’t hold your breath for that to happen, gorgeous,” I returned.

“Yeah, one of us is gonna be breathless, brown eyes, that’s a guarantee.”

He could absolutely guarantee that.

Absolutely.

And it hit me at that juncture that I was in the middle of negotiating with Merry a friends-with-benefits-without-the-friendship-part deal.

How the fuck did that happen?

“We done with this bullshit?” he asked.

“We are absolutely done,” I answered.

“With this bullshit, you’re correct. Other than that, you are not,” he retorted, then turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door.

I stared at it.

Then I sent voodoo vibes of evil I did not have the skill to accurately deliver (or any skill at all) in Peggy’s direction for being whatever the hell she was and doing it with very bad timing.

After I failed at that endeavor and got my head together, I shoved the envelope in my purse and got back to work.

* * * * *

Garrett

Garrett stood on the tiny balcony of his shit condo and lit a cigarette as he listened to the phone ring in his ear.

He snapped the top of the Zippo closed and looked out at his stellar view of a parking lot that led to another building of condos, none of which were remotely pretty.

“Yo,” his friend and brother-in-law, Tanner Layne, said in his ear.

Garrett exhaled and replied, “Yo, big man, you got a minute?”

“Sure,” Tanner answered.

“Listen, I need a favor.”

“This a favor that’s gonna take a lot of my time, none of which I’ll get paid for, or is this a favor that’s gonna mean me pickin’ up your mail ’cause you’re headed to a beach?”

This was a valid question. Tanner was a private investigator, a good one. Garrett was a cop. Being a cop, there were rules. Being a PI, those rules were a lot looser. Garrett needed his brother-in-law when he needed loose, something that happened often, and he didn’t hesitate to ask.

Tanner usually didn’t hesitate to deliver.

Still, he bitched about it.

“Not a lotta your time, but it’s important. You find it hard to fit in, I’ll make it worth your while and pay your fees,” Garrett told him.

Tanner said nothing.

This was also a valid response. Garrett had never offered this in exchange for services rendered.

Finally, Tanner spoke. “Jesus. What’s the favor?”

“Need you to look into some people for me. Man’s name is Trent. His wife’s name is Peg. Don’t know where they live. My guess is Indy but could be anywhere relatively close. Don’t know their last name. Just know you’ll probably find it, you look up the birth certificate of Ethan Rivers née Sheckle, seein’ as Trent’s his birth father.”

“Fuck,” Tanner muttered, then instantly jumped to the obvious conclusion. “Cher got some problems?”

“Yeah,” Garrett told him, not giving that first fuck that he’d promised Cher he wouldn’t tell anyone she had issues.

First, because Tanner would keep it on the down low. Second, because that stick-up-her-ass bitch was not going to get her hands on Ethan. Cher was not going to lose her son. The woman had been through enough. The time that she had headaches outside of the normal ones good folks had was over.

That was a decision Garrett had made the minute they’d had their conversation, and it wasn’t because he’d fucked her.

It was because she was Cher and she was a Cher he’d now fucked.

“According to her,” he continued, “Peg’s not big on her husband’s blood livin’ with an ex-stripper or the rest of the baggage Denny Lowe landed on her.”

“They goin’ for custody?” Tanner asked.

“I get the impression, not yet. But I also get the impression that they’re gearin’ up for it.”

“The impression?”

“Cher isn’t feelin’ like bein’ super informative at this juncture.”