Page 33 of Burn Falls

I took a sip of my O’Bannion Burn whiskey. “I got nothing on your mom’s case.”

Martin sighed and nodded. “Kinda hard when there’s barely any evidence, and I was only six.”

“I’m sorry.” I reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “If I had more time then maybe.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“I do.”

“If Renzo hasn’t found you by now, why do you think he ever would?”

“I don’t think he’s looking for me, but it’s better I don’t settle in one place. Plus, we already talked about my aging.”

“Right.” Martin nodded. “Would you be willing to come back and help me for the next ten years? I’ll probably retire before you move again.”

“Come back?”

“Just for a weekend every month or something. You can stay in my basement. Marcy and the girls are going to miss you too, so you know you need to come visit.”

I smirked. “And you’ll miss me.”

“And me, you jackass.” He leaned forward and stared into my eyes. “Now agree you’ll come back once a month to help me.”

I grinned slowly. “Were you pretending to compel me?”

Martin laughed. “Yeah. Did it work?”

I took another sip of my whiskey and thought for a moment. “Yeah, it worked.”

For the next few hours, Martin got shitfaced. I didn’t blame him. His job was hard, and he was letting off steam. Before we left the bar, I called his wife and told her that I was taking him to my place for the night and it was probably best he didn’t take a taxi home and be drunk in front of his girls. Marcy agreed and wished me farewell, and I assured her I’d come back monthly to see them.

“Time to go,” I said, sliding off the stool. Martin followed, but stumbled and I reached for him, using my strength to steady him. “Do I need to carry you?”

“Would you?” he slurred.

I groaned and lifted him slightly off the ground as we exited the bar.

“You’re really strong.”

I shook my head in amusement. “You know this.”

“No, like really strong.”

“Because I eat my spinach,” I joked.

“Turn me.”

I stopped. “What?”

“Do it.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No. What would you say to your family?”

Martin smirked. “I bet you’re a beast in the bedroom, huh? Marcy would be begging for my di—”