Page 94 of Freeing Denver

“Remember when Wilder went to San Francisco?”

I pause my hand on the diner door and look at Alistair. The rain has stopped, but we both smell like smoke. I’ve questioned more people tonight, more who claim they know nothing, and now they’ll never speak again. Alistair took Taf’s place in the warehouse, and it’s close to midnight and I need a coffee. I didn’t expect a lecture alongside my caffeine. “Is that a joke?”

My friend frowns gently, more concerned than angry. “You told him he was losing control. Don’t you think?—”

I push the door open and go inside.

Alistair is about to compare me to my brother, and I refuse to fucking hear it. I’m not losing control. It’s firmly in my fucking grasp; I’m just wielding it differently.

It’s quiet, three or four people in booths eating or talking quietly. I go to the counter. The server grins, eyes far too bright for this time of the night.

“Two coffees to go, please,” I say.

She gives me a thumbs up, and as she turns her back, I wonder if I know her.

“All I’m saying,” Alistair says, dragging my attention away from the dark-haired waitress, “is maybe we should cut back on what we’re doing.”

“Why?”

Alistair stares at me. “Colt, you …” He glances around to make sure we’re alone and lowers his voice. “You killed three people tonight.”

“Three guilty people.”

“Colt.”

I tap my finger against the counter. “What is your point?”

“My point is … you wanted out,” he says, searching my face. “But you’re deeper than you’ve ever been.”

“I wanted out to be withher.” The words snap out of me, my rage going from zero to a hundred too fucking fast. “What is it you think I should do? Sit back? Wait? Do nothing?”

“Don’t land yourself with a life sentence,” Alistair responds with equal grit. “You’re no use to Denver if you get locked up.”

“Right, I knew I recognized you,” the waitress says, and we both look at her. She pushes the coffees over to us. “You’re Denver’s cheating boyfriend. I never forget a philanderer.” She points at her eyes, then at me.

I frown. “Who are you?”

She presses her hand to her chest. “Sandy. I tried to hit you with an axe in a restaurant kitchen.”

Alistair looks between us. “I’m missing a huge part of this story.”

I dig into memories—and it hits me.

“You set off the fire alarms.”

She grins. “That’s me. So, did she dump you?”

The flashback of that night has my heart aching through the stone I’ve built around it. Dever saved my life and killed a Capelli, even though she didn’t know me except for a singlephone call. Hours later, we were stuck in an elevator, and maybe that’s when I fell in love with her.

“She married me,” I say quietly, showing her my ring.

She scoffs. “So, it’s your kid then?”

I almost rear back. “What?”

“The baby.” She points at her stomach. “I saw her at a gynecologist’s office last week. She didn’t look that pregnant, but I overheard the doctor talking about prenatal vitamins.”

Words escape me. Pregnant.