Page 34 of Torched Spades

This time, I cock my chin discreetly to the side, catching a glimpse of the last man I wanted to see.

If “hometown hero” had a face, it’d be George Reese. Providence’s Chief of Police carries himself in a way that exudes confidence and authority, all while flashing a familiar, plastic smile.

Obviously, a family trait.

We briefly lock gazes before I turn and stare down at my clenched fists. However, years of keeping an eye on my own back tell me both of his are on it.

“Shit…” I mutter under my breath. There’s no way he can know about me. A chief of police doesn’t involve himself in insignificant arson cases.

Then again, landing myself on the Rogue’sradar didn’t do me any favors. Not to mention one of his not-so-finest hauled my ass in for questioning only four days ago.

As Reese and his volume-challenged friend carry on with their conversation, I consider saying fuck it and walking out. It’s not like I need the damn pills. I only fill the prescription to keep Owen off my ass and provide myself with a legal paper trail. But at six-foot-four, I don’t exactly “blend in” with the average citizen. Slipping out quietly isn’t an option.

Glancing up, I find only one person ahead of me and suck a resigned breath.Do this, get out, and deal with the fallout later.

Only moments later, I hear a shuffle of feet, and the overpowering stench of Old Spice hits me seconds before a low chuckle rumbles directly behind me.

“...Yeah, well, sometimes, the end result is always the same no matter what you do,” Reese says, dragging me into what appears to be the tail-end of his conversation. “It’s like having six in one hand, half a dozen in the other.”

“I get it.” His friend laughs. “It’s like why stress over taking a plane or a train when both arrive at the same destination.”

“Or why pick bullets or blades when both make a clear statement.”

My veins turn to ice.Bullets and blades.Three words as permanently branded in my mind as the ink on my skin.

I should’ve listened to my instincts. It’s like I told Becca… Sins are an irreversible stain on the soul. One you never escape. You run, they’ll follow. You hide, they’ll find you…

And mine have arrived.

If I had any fucking sense, I’d leave right now, call Owen, admit to what happened at the docks, then warn him this whole damn arrangement is a tinderbox ready to ignite. But I’m not willing to take that risk. I’ve worked too damn hard, come too damn far, and sacrificed too damn much to uproot and replant now.

However, it’s obvious Detective Ledger gave more than my regards to the Chief, so I’m not sticking around to give the bent spoke in the force a more accurate description for the sketch artist.

“Hi, Johnny! I was hoping you’d stop by.”

Shit. Too late.

I can still feel Reese’s eyes boring into my back. Bolting now would raise even more suspicion. I have no choice but to finish what I started.

Stepping up to the counter, I nod at the young brunette beaming up at me. “Been busy.”Busy avoiding you.

I don’t remember her name. The two times I used this store, I rejected both her not-so-subtle offers.She’s decent looking, but she’s no Becca. Plus, she’s a pharmacy tech with access to privileged information.

Like my address.

“Dropping off or picking up?”

“Picking up.”

She pops her gum while clicking the computer mouse like it’s a goddamn PlayStation controller. “Date of birth?”

Jesus Christ.

I can feel my expression harden, and I’m about to call her out on wasting my time when I sense it… The familiar alertness that starts at the base of my spine, then slowly crawls up my neck.

I mumble the date under my breath.

She blinks, a deep line sinking in between her eyes. “I’m sorry, what was that?”