Page 31 of Someone to Call My Own

“Nope. Nothing.”

Beau’s laughter rumbled through the phone connection. “How about everything else? Did that Broadman guy’s confession bring you the closure you were looking for?”

“Yes and no,” I replied. “Yes, I feel better knowing that Nate’s killer is off the street, but it won’t bring my brother back.” I still felt the sting of heartache every day, which was why I understood why Emory fought the idea of us. He wasn’t ready to move on. “I’m still fucking angry that Rylan Broadman valued farmland over my brother and his other victims’ lives.” I was especially resentful on behalf of Rick Spizer’s widow. Making her think her husband took his own life for even a second was the cruelest act of them all.

“We made a living engaging in battles on behalf of our grateful nation over land disputes, but you never expect that bullshit to happen in your backyard.”

“So fucking senseless,” I replied.

“Besides New Orleans, this is the longest you’ve stayed in one spot as long as we’ve known each other. You haven’t met someone special in all this time?” Beau questioned, changing the subject to one that wasn’t as sad. Of course, lately my love life—or lack thereof—was pretty pitiful.

“Have you?” I countered.

“I have afriend.” His answer made me laugh out loud. “What’s so funny, asshole?”

“Emory thought that you and I werefriends,” I replied.

“And he didn’t like the idea because there issomethingbetween the two of you, even though neither of you will admit it.”

“Shut the fuck up, Dr. Phil,” I groused. “When the fuck did we start talking about our feelings?”

Beau laughed hard at my temper. “Maybe now that we’re not constantly running for our lives or shooting our way out of trouble we can all find someone that makes our lives a little more pleasant.” My response was a grunt. “Then you won’t mind if I ask Emory to be myfriend?”

“I will slit your throat while you sleep,” I answered between gritted teeth. The thought of anyone’s hands on Emory’s body besides mine made me physically ill. Would he feel the same way when I told him what I’d done with Alexander?

Beau laughed until he was out of breath while I gripped my phone hard enough to break it. “I… won’t… touch your… man,” he told me in between gasps for air. “You’re both a couple of idiots.”

“Well, this has been fun, but I have things to do.”

“Like what?” It was apparent that Beau was enjoying my discomfort.

“Things.” I wished that it was true so I could have an excuse to hang up the phone.

“I gotta run anyway. I need to head back over to Miss Martha’s and pick up Emory. Or, I can just hang out with him in his room to review the case.”

“Beau.” I put as much warning into that one word as I could muster. My friend laughed and hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

I looked down at my phone in disbelief. That was the closest thing I’d ever had to a heart-to-heart talk with either of my friends. Sure, we asked what was going on in our lives, but none of us ever hinted around to being lonely or wanting relationships. Fuck, maybe we’re just getting old.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I sent a text to Emory’s phone.Thank you, Emory.That was all I said because nothing else was needed. I set my phone on my desk and turned my attention to my laptop. I was reviewing figures when Beau called me to let me know Emory had arrived safely. I knew he wasn’t going to respond to my text and I was surprisingly okay with it. He knew I was grateful and that was what I hoped to accomplish.

A column of figures caught my attention, and I enlarged the screen so I could look at the column a little closer. I double-clicked at the top, and it brought up more detailed information such as charts and graphs of liquor sales and the times they were made. In addition to the sales, it showed when inventory was checked in from our vendors. Either there was a glaring anomaly in the software, or I had discovered where the new thefts were taking place.

I opened the last inventory order and compared it to the uploaded delivery details. There were two cases of liquor missing, and not just any liquor either. The value of the top-shelf liquor exceeded $2,000 in value. Not only did I find the discrepancy, but I also had the employee code of the person who entered the inventory into the system. I clicked on the number and was shocked when the name came up.

“Michelle?” I asked out loud as I stared at my laptop. “I can’t believe it.” Or I just didn’t want it to be true. She was more than my manager; she had been a rock I could count on during the most difficult time in my life.

I heard my cell phone buzz with an incoming message, but I ignored it in favor of focusing on my problem. I swallowed hard, rose from my desk, and headed out to the bar area of the club. Michelle was there laughing with Stella and Antonio as they got everything ready to open. Her smile was so happy and genuine that I wanted to discredit the evidence. Fuck, I’d gone soft since leaving ops. I blew out a frustrated breath loud enough that the trio heard me over their laughter.

Michelle read my mood immediately, and her smiling lips turned into a frown. “What’s wrong, boss?”

“Can you come into my office?”

Michelle dropped the towel in her hand onto the bar and walked toward me. “Sure.” Concern and curiosity were the only two emotions I picked up from her as she followed me into my office. I would have expected to see or feel her fear or guilt if she were the one pilfering booze or money.

“Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the chair in front of my desk.

“What’s going on?”