Page 9 of Devil's Hour

Sawyer resumed walking, and Royce fell into step beside him. “What’s next for our investigation, Sarge?”

Royce told him he’d ruled out anyone at the printing press and wanted to speak to the Goodwins’ newspaper carrier. “Mayor Goodwin said they’d had the same one for decades. His name is Dusty Donovan. I’m also hoping Mr. Goodwin calls soon. We could canvass the neighborhood. Maybe someone captured our perp on their Ring doorbell.”

“Doubt we get lucky twice,” he teased, pulling out his cell phone as they stepped outside the building. “I’ll call the station and see what information we can get on—” His words and steps faltered suddenly.

Royce followed Sawyer’s glare and groaned when he saw Fleabag leaning against their Charger. “He’s not going to leave without talking to us, so let’s get it over with and be on our way.”

Sawyer hesitated for a few seconds, then followed him.

“Get off my car,” Royce groused when he reached Felix. “You’ll scratch it.”

“Not like you’ll be paying for it personally, Sergeant Locke.” He shifted his attention to Sawyer. “No calls. No messages. Not even a go-fuck-yourself email. I expected better from you, Sawyer, especially after the magnificent night we shared.”

Royce knew he must’ve misheard Fleabag, or the reporter was deliberately instigating trouble by choosing loaded words. One look at Sawyer’s pinched expression though and he knew he hadn’t misheard or misunderstood.

Sawyer had a personal history with Fleabag Fucking Franklin, the man Sawyer swore wasn’t his friend and the guy Sawyer promised he hadn’t leaked information to when things blew up at the sheriff’s office.

All the trust issues Royce had managed to push aside because he was so caught up in Sawyer came roaring back. “It’s obvious the two of you need to talk. I’m just going to get in the car and make some calls.” He held out his hand for the key fob, and Sawyer handed it to him.

There was no way in hell Royce was going to stand around and listen to Fleabag whine because Sawyer had ended things between them. The nagging voice in his head cautioned him not to rush to judgment, but Sawyer could’ve told him about Felix during one of the occasions they’d discussed the reporter. Why hadn’t he?Because he felt guilty about something.Royce felt betrayed. Omissions felt like lies, and Royce found himself teetering on the edge of rage.

Royce had a sobering feeling that his luck had run out.

As Royce’s mood plummeted, so did his grip on his emotions, leaving him to feel as if he were on a runaway train. He decided to seize control of the situation as much as possible and walked around to the driver’s side of the car. Once inside, he blasted the air-conditioning on high and pulled his phone out of his pocket to text Holly but couldn’t tear his gaze away from the confrontation in front of him.So much for seizing control.

Felix hadn’t budged from leaning against the hood of the Charger, and though they were roughly the same height, the casual pose put the reporter at a disadvantage, giving Royce a direct view of Sawyer’s thunderous expression. He couldn’t see Fleabag’s face but could tell by his body language and gesturing hands that he was the one doing all the talking. As for Sawyer, he looked angrier and angrier by the second.

Royce had irritated Sawyer plenty of times, but he’d never seen him look so tense. The full lips he loved to kiss and nibble on had flattened to a grim line, and Sawyer’s eyes looked cold, hard, and flinty instead of his usual warm and inviting expression Royce was used to seeing. The transformation was so shocking if felt like he was looking at a stranger. The car’s air-conditioning was quick to cool off the interior on a hot, humid day, but Royce knew its efficiency wasn’t responsible for the goose bumps spreading over his skin.

When Sawyer’s lips finally moved, Royce didn’t need to hear him to know what he’d said. Sawyer had spoken slowly and enunciated carefully. “Go fuck yourself.” Felix threw his head back and his body vibrated with laughter. Sawyer moved lightning quick, snatching him by the shirt and yanking him away from the car. Then he spun them, reversing their positions, giving Royce his first glimpse of Fleabag’s face since the conversation began, and he wasn’t laughing anymore. Royce couldn’t see Sawyer’s expression and wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing. Sawyer released Felix as quickly as he grabbed him, and the reporter stumbled backward a few feet, scowling, pointing, and running his mouth. Some people never learned when to shut the fuck up, and Fleabag was obviously one of them. Either that, or he was trying to goad Sawyer into taking a swing so he could write about it. He clearly knew how to push Sawyer’s buttons in a way Royce had never seen.

Setting aside his riotous feelings, Royce opened the door and stepped out. “Get in the car, asshole,” he said firmly. “This loser isn’t worth the expended energy.”

Sawyer stiffened at hearing Royce’s voice, then backed away from the fucker, arms raised in a hands-off gesture. Sawyer turned and got in the car while Royce remained locked in a silent staredown with the reporter, waiting for the clock to strike so they could draw their weapons on each other or whip their dicks out to see whose was bigger. After a few seconds, Fleabag gave him a jaunty finger wave, then broke contact with Royce to pucker his lips and make a kissy face at Sawyer. Royce got back in the car and slammed the door.

“If he doesn’t move, run his ass over,” Sawyer snarled.Whoa.There was a big story here, and Royce would get to the bottom of it when he was calmer. After a long pause, Felix turned around and walked toward the building. Royce turned his head to study Sawyer and noticed his color was returning to normal and he didn’t seem as tense. Sawyer turned his head and met Royce’s scrutiny. “I know you’re pissed, and I know you have questions.”

“They’ll wait,” Royce replied tersely. He could tell Sawyer wanted to argue, but instead, he took a few of his calming breaths, then nodded.

Royce pulled out of the parking spot even though he’d forgotten where he planned to go next. In theory, postponing the conversation until they were off the clock sounded great, but it allowed Royce’s mind to run wild and imagine things he didn’t want to see, like Sawyer and Felix in bed together. Royce knew damned well the kind of skilled lover Sawyer was, and it was apparent Fleabag was pissed he didn’t get a repeat.

As if reading his mind, Sawyer said, “It was just once, and it happened a long time before I met you.”

Royce bit his lip to keep from growling. “Sawyer, I said—”

“I know what you said, Royce, but you’re over there grinding your gears and your teeth while imagining the worst and thinking I lied to you.”

“Knowing you lied to meisthe worst. Omissions are lies, Sawyer.” Royce knew what Sawyer was going to say next and cut him off before he could voice his objection. “Don’t give me your legal-geek speak right now either. I’m not talking about what’s admissible in a court of law. We discussed Felix the Fleabag more than once, and you claimed not to have a personal connection with him.”

“I told you we weren’t friends.”

Royce gripped the steering wheel hard enough to break it. “Semantics. I just got done telling you not to play word games with me. I also told you I didn’t want to talk about this right now. Chief Rigby has trusted me with something she feels could be very big, and the last thing I want to debate with you right now is your idea of what constitutes friendship, and I sure as fuck don’t want to hear the details of your hookup with Fleabag.”

Mad wasn’t even the right adjective to describe how Royce felt. Rage? No. That wasn’t right. Hurt? Yes. It hurt that Sawyer hadn’t trusted him with the whole truth about his past with Fleabag.

Sawyer sighed. “Okay, fair enough, but I do need to share the parts of the conversation I had with Felix that might impact our investigation or jeopardize our partnership.”

“Fuck me,” Royce groused.