Breathe

Chapter Seven Hazelnut Half and Half

“’Lo honey.”

Like every morning since the first, Chace’s dick, already hard, jerked at hearing Faye’s cute, drowsy, husky voice answering the phone.

“Mornin’ baby,” he replied.

“Catch any bad guys last night?”

It was Saturday morning, a week and two days after their date at The Rooster. Their dinner at the Italian place in town the night before had been cut short when he got a callout after someone got home and found their place had been burgled.

He and Faye had had a week and a half of early morning phone calls where she was cute, sleepy, innocently sexy and oftentimes funny. A week and a half of coffee and stakeouts, watching the kid grab bags of food, water, books and other items Faye or Chace deemed he needed. They’d had a week and a half where they’d had dinner together every night, going out or eating in at Faye’s place where she cooked.

Chace was not surprised but that didn’t mean he wasn’t pleased to discover that, like the way she dressed, groomed, kept and decorated her house, she had a subtle flair with cooking.

It was stick to your ribs, no frills home cooking.

It was also exceptional.

That was, they had dinner every night except four times. One, when she went to have a pre-scheduled dinner with her Mom and Dad. Three, when she went to the gym and worked out.

One of those, he’d had to work late as well so he’d met her for a drink at Bubba’s, a place she’d never been but was greeted like a regular by Krystal and fucking Twyla, the butch waitress who put the fear of God in most men but acted like Faye was her BFF. Chace was surprised at this but started chuckling when he saw that Faye was even more startled by Twyla’s behavior. Then, just like Faye, she warmed to it and by the end of the time they were there, she and Twyla were gabbing like long lost sisters. He’d walked her home after, made out with her just inside the door and left her about eight hours before he wanted to.

Two of those nights, he left her to it. He did this to cool things down, not for her, for him.

Too much of her would push him to push her to go too fast.

She was like a drug and as the days, and especially the nights, wore on and she became more comfortable with him, being in his arms, having his tongue in her mouth, his hands on her and hers on him, she was making it very clear she was willing to explore. She was gaining experience, trying things out, becoming more confident and getting restless. She was also making that last obvious. She wanted more and how she communicated that was phenomenal. So phenomenal, he had to cool it off so he wouldn’t lose all control.

Before and during Misty, he had an active sex life with a variety of partners. He was not a player. He was straight up with the women in his life and many of the women in his life were just that, women in his life. Prior to Misty, he dated, he had relationships, he worked at them if he thought they held promise but none of them felt right.

Mostly, this had to do with the fact that the first time Faye caught his attention she did it in a big way he couldn’t ignore. He hadn’t known, until seeing Faye, the kind of woman he was looking for but one look at that auburn hair, those crystal blue eyes, the curves she didn’t hide but also didn’t display, her skittish behavior, shy smile and the dreamy look on her face made a lasting impression he couldn’t shake.

But he wasn’t done enjoying variety and, at the time, she was very young, clearly inexperienced and would require time and care that he had every intention would lead to commitment so he held off on approaching Faye.

Too long it would turn out.

But hopefully not too late.

After Misty, the possible fruition of his relationships for obvious reasons was curtailed and although he had them, the women who took him to their bed knew there’d be an end. He enjoyed it, they enjoyed it but they both kept distant because both knew there was no future.

Before and during Misty, all of this had been regular.

Ironically, since Misty, he’d only had two women. One he’d dated and fucked for a month and then ended it. He did this because she made it abundantly clear she was hoping for more and Chace was not in the headspace to give it to her. The underlying desperation he felt from her reminded him of his dead wife. It wasn’t calculating like Misty, it was just desperate and it didn’t settle so it eventually put him off. The other was a leftover from his time with Misty who opened her door and bed to him any time he made the call. It was sporadic. It was random. It wasn’t frequent. But it was regular.

The last time he made that call was three weeks before he saw Faye in Harker’s Wood.

That meant he’d not had a woman in six weeks.

This was a record.

This was also making the carefully controlled necking he’d been using to initiate Faye torture. Exquisite torture but torture nonetheless.

Their morning phone calls, something he fucking loved, was a form of exquisite torture too.

Luckily, when they were done, he was in bed, hard and could do something about it.

Which he always did.

Today would be the same.

Tonight, though, was the night.

Tonight after Faye finished work she was coming to his place for the first time and Chace was making her dinner.

She wasn’t leaving until Monday.

She didn’t know that and he was not about to freak her out and tell her to bring a toothbrush and an extra pair of panties.

Tomorrow morning, he’d leave her in his bed and go get them for her.

“Yes,” he answered her question.

He got silence then, “Pardon?”

“Got ‘im.”

More silence then, “Already?”

“Lenny Lemcock tries to stay on the wagon,” he started in answer. “He also frequently fails. When he fails, he needs to get so drunk he doesn’t remember anything for a month. This requires money. Money, since he doesn’t have a job and lives on Disability, he has to steal. Took one look at the house, knew it was Lenny seein’ as he leaves a mess as his signature. He also leaves prints. Didn’t even have to lift a print though to know it was him. He hangs in seven different establishments. I found him at the fourth, three sheets to the wind. He’s in the tank and unfortunately for Lenny, since this is about strike seven and although the guy is funny, can charm a snake and has proven that repeatedly by charming a variety of judges, the last time he appeared, he got the warning. No more second chances. He’s fucked. He’ll dry out doin’ time and my callouts for burglaries will drop drastically.”

“Do you know everything about everyone in town?” she asked quietly, residual sleep and a hint of sweet wonder in her voice.

“Only the ones who do fucked up shit.”

“And Outlaw Al,” she added.

“Al lives on a diet of canned meat cut by canned beans. His residence is a lean-to in an alley. His best friends are twenty-five feral cats and he can pack all of his belongings in a shopping cart and not one of them is something anyone in their right mind would want. All of that is fucked up shit. Just not the annoying kind.”

He heard her quiet, musical laughter and, like he always did when he heard it, he savored it.

When he lost it, he ordered gently, “Right, baby, time for you to go back to sleep.”

“Okay, honey.”

He closed his eyes as that went through him.

He loved her calling him Chace.

But her calling him honey was something else. Something pure. Something magical. Like the first snow of the season falling at night. You wake up to it, make coffee, wrap up in a jacket and scarf over your pajamas, tug on thick socks and sit outside on your porch, drinking coffee that makes your insides warm but seeing your breath puff out in front of you, the air coming out clean and going in cleaner.

It was a little common miracle but even common, that made it no less miraculous.

The first time she’d done it, it felt like he’d been touched by the hand of an angel and he hadn’t gotten over feeling that every time she’d done it since.

He opened his eyes and asked, “You got the directions to my place?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly and that went through him too. “I think I’ll be there around quarter to seven.”

“All right, honey.”

“You sure I can’t bring anything?”

“Just you.”

“Okay, Chace.”

That went through him too, always.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Later, baby.”

“’Bye, Chace.”

He disconnected, tossed his cell on his nightstand and rolled to his back, his eyes going to the ceiling.

Misty had slept in the master.

Chace had slept in the guestroom.

A month after she died, he’d gotten shot of his old bed that she slept in and bought a new one. Spent a whack on a mattress that felt like sleeping on a firm cloud. It was spectacular.

Tonight, Faye would be in that bed with him, her hair, her scent, her body, her crystal blue eyes all a pillow away.

A clean bed, unsullied by the garbage that used to be his life.

His bed.

He shoved his hand behind his head at the same time he lifted his knees and wrapped his other hand around his cock.

Then he closed his eyes and went through one of the many scenarios he’d be taking Faye through in the coming months. This one involved a lot of Faye using her mouth. He took his time. He did it stroking lazy at first, firmer and faster later.

And when he was done, he came hard.

Three hours later, after jacking off to Faye, making coffee and having breakfast and a run, Chace, showered, in jeans, a dark blue twill shirt, a heavy, wool denim marl sweater and thick wool socks, was sitting on the rocking chair on his front porch. He had a hot mug of coffee in his hand, his feet up on the top of the railing in front of him, his eyes pointed out at the plain.

Chace lived in a four bedroom ranch-style house at the southwestern end of Carnal. He owned fifteen acres and not one of his neighbors owned less than three times that. Therefore, from his front porch, he couldn’t see any of his neighbor’s homes. Just the valley plain they lived on, the trees dotting the plains and shrouding the houses, the hills surrounding the area, the mountains beyond that and, in the distance, the town of Carnal.

Carnal looked further away than it actually was. Seeming small across the plain, it was only a ten minute drive.

Chace’s mother’s parents had set up a trust for him that he could access when he was twenty-five. To buy this house and land, he’d accessed part of it for a hefty down payment that would leave him with a manageable mortgage on a cop’s salary. Living room, dining room, family room, huge-ass kitchen, butler’s pantry, walk-in kitchen pantry, two and a half baths, study and four bedrooms, the master having one of the bathrooms and a big walk-in closet. There was an old fashioned front porch, a large square deck out back and a massive two car garage that could easily fit two SUVs, two snow mobiles and an ATV.

The rest of the money, he never touched.

This was because, since he could fathom the concept, he decided he’d have three kids. This was mostly because he’d never had a brother or sister and he wanted one, the other, or, better, what Faye had, both. Not having it, he decided that whatever kids he had, they’d have siblings and live in a house full of people, noise and love. Therefore the rest of that money he’d set aside for their college educations. If they wanted to go to trade school, be beauticians or plumbers or got into Harvard or Stanford and became doctors or lawyers, he didn’t care. Whatever it was, they wouldn’t worry about paying for it.

He’d done this because his father refused to pay for Chace’s education because Chace hadn’t taken business courses but instead law and political science with a view to becoming a cop, not an attorney. In his usual fashion, Trane Keaton tried to use money to manipulate. Chace just got grants, loans, worked while taking classes and during the summers, paid his own damned way and took whatever courses he wanted.

He didn’t complain, it was no use and he had to do it to get what he wanted. But it wasn’t easy. He remembered the late nights studying, the exhaustion in classes and dragging himself to work after them and he’d paid off his last student loan five years ago. He wasn’t going to put a child of his through that.

He also, back in the day when he allowed himself to think of this shit, didn’t intend to marry a debutante or socialite with a Daddy who could spend a mint on her wedding. He’d marry who he fell in love with and whoever she was, she would have the wedding of her dreams even if Chace had to use his trust fund to help her. So the money was left alone for that too.

Last, his house was fucking fantastic. Big rooms. Lots of windows. Lots of places to be inside and out. Fabulous views. It’d been dated when he bought it so he updated all the baths, the kitchen and the flooring. His mother wanted to decorate it so he let her but went with her to guide her hand. Shopping was something he could give or take, usually give, but his mother loved to do it, she loved to be with her son, he enjoyed being with her so it was something they could do together. He couldn’t say he wanted to do it again. He could say it turned out well.

That said, the woman that he decided to put in his house would be encouraged to make it a house she wanted to live in. If she wanted a new state of the art kitchen, the trust would cover it. If she wanted to add on a room where she could sew or knit or whatever the fuck (in Faye’s case, a place where she could have quiet to read), he’d use the trust to give it to her. Whatever it was, she’d have it and he kept the money aside for that purpose as well as the two others.

A family, a wife who had what she wanted, a home.

All Chace ever wanted. Something his grandparents, both dead, would have been pleased as fuck he used the money they gave him to have.

When Misty lived there, she’d put her stamp on it. This was another attempt to win Chace, making what she said, “his house theirs”. Along with all her other attempts, this backfired.

She hadn’t worked when they were married but Chace didn’t give her money to keep herself. The money she had was from nefarious sources. It was soiled money.

They did not share her soiled money in a joint account. She bought herself what she wanted and Chace had no input.

When she’d died, Chace was left with everything. Her money, her belongings, all of it. He’d given it all away. Her parents took her personal belongings and the rest went to a couple different charities.

His thoughts made him sigh, he took a sip from his coffee and scanned the landscape he had long since memorized but it didn’t mean he didn’t still gain some peace or wasn’t quietly moved by the scenery.

This was a feeling he liked having back. He’d lost it when Misty was in the house, a place he escaped as often as he could. He didn’t sit on his porch and drink coffee when Misty was around. He didn’t take the time to gaze at the view when he was coming or going. He dreaded coming home and he was always in a hurry to leave.

Taking another sip of coffee, as usual whenever his mind was on Misty, it drifted from her to when Chace had approached IA. He informed them of what was happening at CPD, his willingness to make it stop and he’d taken his pay packets to them.

Every officer on Arnie Fuller’s personal team got a packet once a month, the size determined by what they could fleece from local businesses and blackmail out of powerbrokers. Chace had accepted his because it would have been suspect if he did not.

He was a willing foot soldier as far as they knew.

He drew the line at approaching local businesspeople and forcing their donations to the Carnal Police Widows and Orphans fund. He also drew the line at being a blackmail go-between. He explained this to Arnie by showing him the wisdom of folks in town thinking there might be one or two honest cops on the payroll. Arnie had fallen for it so of all of the muck Chace had to swim through and the other filth he had to turn a blind eye to, at least he was clean of that garbage.

But he’d placed every envelope in a safety deposit box in a bank in Chantelle and handed all of them over to IA when they’d launched the undercover investigation.

There was nearly fifty thousand dollars in those packets. Six years of being on the take. IA made sure it was leaked to the media that Chace had turned in his money. They set him up as the poster boy for all that was good and right in law enforcement. They wanted no one to have any doubts so they set about making that so, using Chace to do it. Although it was true, in fact, everything they shared with the media was true, just selectively chosen as to what they’d share, it wasn’t anyone’s business. The way they shared it made it seem like he was some sort of white knight with a sword endowed with mystical powers, which he was not.

Luckily all that had died down, as it usually does, the infested personnel had been fired or incarcerated and replaced and the town seemed to be settling, slowly but they were doing it.

Which brought Chace to his plans for the day. Grocery shopping for the weekend and his meet with Tate Jackson.

Tate was part owner of Bubba’s bar but he was mostly a bounty hunter. He had once been a cop. So when the citizens of Carnal had a problem they couldn’t trust the police to handle they went to Tate. Tate, a good cop who never got dirty under Arnie’s rule, a good man, always did what he could.

Since Chace’s unexpected meeting with Clinton Bonar, Tate had been out of town after a skip. Chace had phoned him and told him they needed a meet as soon as he was home. Frank Dolinski knew about Bonar. To cover his bases, Chace needed Tate to know as well as a select few other men in town.

Tate got home yesterday.

They were meeting that afternoon.

On this thought, and another sip of coffee, something caught the corner of Chace’s eye and he turned his head to gaze at the lone road that wound through the ranchland around his house. Seeing as the area between Carnal and the base of the mountain where Chace lived only had one road, Chace knew every car or truck that came down that road. Living there eight years, he even knew the vehicles of friends and family members.

This was not one of those vehicles.

It was a black Jeep Wrangler.

Chace reckoned he knew who was in that Wrangler.

The Goodknight family was a Jeep family. Faye, Sondra and Silas all drove Jeeps of varying ages.

Silas drove a black Wrangler.

Watching Faye’s father’s approach, sipping coffee, preparing for what was to come next, vaguely it occurred to Chace that Faye and Sondra, when it came to cars, were like mother like daughter. Their cars were not new. Faye had never upgraded hers that he knew of. Sondra took over Silas’s vehicles when he was done. By the look of her and the way she acted the times he saw her, no nonsense, busy and active, she probably didn’t care what she drove just as long as it got her where she wanted to go.

Chace watched Silas drive through the doublewide opening in the white picket fence at the end of Chace’s lane which led to a fenced off enormous backyard. The rest of his land was unfenced. He liked the land, the space, the quiet, the peace. He didn’t give a fuck if the livestock of his neighbors wandered onto his land. If they chewed the grass it meant Chace didn’t have to mow the shit.

But that white picket fence was what sold him on this property and he sanded it and painted it once every two years. Any time there was a repair needed, he saw to it as soon as he could and he walked the fence occasionally just to check. The house was big, you could build a family there, you could add to it if you needed more room. But that long, white, rectangular line of fence surrounding it, delineating it, creating a yard, circling and highlighting the house made it seem like a home.

Chace waited until Silas made it to the end of the lane and stopped close to the house before he took his feet off the railing. He rose as Silas threw open his door. He walked to the top of the steps and leaned a shoulder against the white painted porch post as Silas made his way up the cleared of snow flagstone walk Chace laid six years ago.

“Mr. Goodknight,” he called when Silas was halfway up the walk and Silas, eyes to his boots, lifted a hand and kept up the path.

Only when he stopped at the bottom of the steps did his crystal blue eyes rise to Chace.

“Call me Silas, Detective Keaton,” he invited.

Chace jerked up his chin and returned, “Chace.”

Silas jerked up his own chin then tipped his head to Chace’s coffee mug. “Got more ‘a that?”

As answer, Chace turned and walked to the house, opening the storm door, the front door and moving through, turning to hold the storm door open for Silas to follow.

He did and in they went, Chace leading the way over the oak floors that led to the back of the house that he’d laid four years ago when Misty was on a two week vacation to visit a friend in Maryland.

Left side, a big dining room with rectangular table. The room had hints of western, hints of country, all of it with an underlying class that was all his mother.

Right side was what his mother liked to call the formal living room. Chace wasn’t formal so the room had two comfortable burgundy couches facing each other with more hints of western, none at all of country which his mother referred to as “the formal part”.

Chace moved through a deep, wide archway as he led Silas into the vast space that made up a big kitchen and family room.

The kitchen had an island in the middle with a five burner stove and so much counter space it served as a kitchen table that could comfortably seat a family of eight. The island was a showstopper but so was the massive picture window over the sink at the back of the house.

The family room had an enormous sectional, three sides which were essentially three full couches. Big flat screen TV. Shelves filled with books, CDs, DVDs. And a stone hearth fireplace in the corner.

Off the kitchen leading toward the front of the house was the pantry, a hidden entry to the dining room and doors to a utility room and the garage.

Straight ahead from the wide hall that flowed from the front of the house to the back, there were doublewide French windows that led to the back deck.

Chace went directly to the coffeepot, asking, “How do you take it?”

“Seein’ as Sondra ain’t here, three sugars and a healthy dose of half and half.”

Chace put down his mug, opened the cupboard and reached for another one as Silas continued to speak to his back.

“On me all the time, Sondra is. Her Dad had a heart attack so she’s got it in her head I’ll have one. I run two miles a day. Do my sit ups, pull ups, pushups every day. Work outside most of the time. Got ten acres to take care of. And three kids that may be grown but that don’t mean I don’t lend a hand. I do all this so I can enjoy half and half and sweet in my coffee. She doesn’t see the balance.”

Chace poured coffee and gave him the bad news. “I don’t have half and half. Just milk.”

“You don’t have half and half?”

His tone was off in a way that Chace couldn’t read but it still set him on edge. Or more on edge.

He looked over his shoulder at the man even as he reached for the sugar.

“No.”

Silas Goodknight locked eyes with him and announced, “My Faye, she puts half and half in her coffee. Hazelnut flavored.”

There it was. A feeler.

Chace and Faye were not seeing each other on the sly. By now, the whole town knew they were dating. Regardless, Faye had told Chace that she’d told her folks they were seeing each other when she was at dinner at their place last weekend.

Now, Silas Goodknight knew that his daughter was not waking up and making her coffee at Chace’s house.

Chace mentally added hazelnut flavored half and half to his grocery list and replied to Silas, “Buy her coffees at La-La Land, Silas. Know she likes hazelnut. Haven’t had occasion to see her usin’ half and half.”

Silas held his eyes a moment before murmuring, “Right.”

Chace turned away, prepared Silas’s coffee and handed the mug to the man before returning the milk to the fridge, tagging his own mug, turning toward him and resting his hips against the counter. Silas had the side of his hip to the island.

Neither man spoke as they both sipped.

Finally, Chace cut to it, “What brings you out this way, Silas?”

Silas moved his gaze from contemplating the view out the picture window to Chace.

“Been meanin’ to do it for a while so decided to do it. Wanted to tell you I admire what you did. That kinda thing doesn’t take bravery, it takes balls. Big ones. Not a lotta men would make the decision you made and carry it through. The kinda thing that was happening beats a man down. Most men think they have two choices and all the others took one of those two choices. Either he joins in or he cuts his losses and moves on. You didn’t do either ‘a those. You saw wrong bein’ done, stomached it for as long as you could then set about rightin’ it. Took guts. Took balls. Not a lotta men have either. You do. I admire that.”

“Obliged but not sure I agree,” Chace muttered politely. Surprised this was his opener, not wanting to be on this subject, he braced because he had a strong feeling Silas didn’t seek him out to share gratitude a week after he found out Chace was dating his daughter.

Silas’s focus grew intense and his voice went quiet when he returned, “Then you’d be wrong, son. Arnie Fuller was a piss-ant as a kid. His Dad was an asshole. His Granddaddy was an even bigger one. Then he got himself a uniform and he was no less a piss-ant. But a piss-ant with a badge is not a good thing. Grew from there ‘cause, see, that man had no way to go except bein’ an asshole like his kin. Problem was, he was better at it than both of ‘em. You may not have been here then but you know it grew and how it grew. It wasn’t bad when you started but that kinda shit is always bad, just the level of shit you gotta negotiate rising. Got to the point we were all drownin’ in it. You and Dolinski cleared that away. Not one man before you, even Tate Jackson, took that on. Two decades of shit at a rising level. So, I disagree with you not agreein’. You did a thing no man before you would do and a lot of people are grateful.”

Not wanting to talk about this but definitely wanting to shut it down, Chace accepted the gratitude with a chin lift then he took another sip of coffee.

Silas took a sip of his and his gaze returned to the window.

Silas didn’t speak. Chace didn’t either. This stretched on awhile and Chace tired of it.

“Silas, there more you wanted to share?”

Silas’s eyes cut to him and he didn’t hesitate lowering the boom.

“I don’t want you datin’ my daughter.”

Chace felt his body go solid.

Fuck, shit, there it was.

Fuck.

Shit.

“Silas –” he started.

Silas lifted a hand. “Grateful, son, told you that. But I’m an honest man so I came here to share that gratitude and lay it out. I wish you happiness. You deserve it but not with my daughter.”

“That doesn’t sync, Silas,” Chace said quietly.

“I get that. But I’m guessin’ you also get me,” Silas returned quietly. “See, Chace, I pay attention. Knew the kind of man you are the minute I laid eyes on you. Don’t know the story. Know it’s not a good one. It’s none of my business and I don’t wanna know. So I’m not askin’. What I do know is my daughter’s a dreamer. She hides those stars in her eyes but you don’t gotta look deep to see ‘em. As her father, I want her to live out whatever dream she’s cookin’ in that pretty head ‘a hers. I also know that you married a woman under the eyes of God and even if you didn’t wanna have your ring on her finger, it was. Then you went about your business like you hadn’t made those vows under the eyes of God. I figure you had your reasons but whatever they were, I’m a man, a husband, a father and I want good for my daughter. I hope somewhere inside you that you get me when I say that no matter what the reason, breakin’ that vow to your wife, to God, don’t sit good with me when it comes to you spendin’ time with my girl.”

“We were married by a Justice of the Peace,” Chace shot back immediately when Silas stopped talking and he watched Silas blink.

“Come again, son?”

Chace straightened away from the counter and held the man’s eyes.

“At the time, didn’t think I’d have another shot. What I did know was that if I married a woman I intended to love and cherish until death did us part, I’d be happy to stand in front of a preacher in God’s house and make that vow with the intention of keepin’ it. Misty wanted a church wedding. She did not get one for precisely that reason. I was not going to make a vow in God’s house that I intended to break. So I didn’t. Now, if I’m lucky enough to find a woman I love and cherish, I will make that vow to her and to God to stand by her side in sickness and in health until death do us part. And if that woman happens to be a woman I chose, a woman I actually love and cherish, make no mistake, Silas, when I make that vow, I’ll mean it.”

He took in breath, Silas opened his mouth to speak but Chace beat him to it.

“And I want you to know, I don’t take offense. You’re right. I get you. You just don’t get me. I even appreciate you comin’ here, lookin’ after your girl. You’re also right, what went down is none of your business. I’m not gonna tell you what that is, not ever. What I can promise you is that, if what’s bloomin’ between me and Faye keeps takin’ root, grows and blossoms, she will know everything. I will not keep anything from her. It’ll be up to her to make the decision whether she wants to stick with me on this path I’m on tryin’ to get back to the man I wanted to be. When she learns, if she decides to share that with you, that’s her call. I won’t get in the middle of family and how they communicate. I won’t ask her not to share. I’ll let her decide what she needs to do. I’m fortunate her folks are the folks they are ‘cause I already know without havin’ to ask that you and your wife won’t share if Faye does.”

“Tryin’ to get back to the man you wanted to be?” Silas asked softly.

“You swim in filth, Silas, it seeps in through your pores.”

At that, Silas shifted away from the counter and whispered, “Son, you cannot take that on.”

“Too late. I did that when I married Misty. I’ll give you a little. I got caught in that trap six years ago. I worked with IA for fourteen months. I reckon you can do the math.”

“But –”

Chace talked over him. He had shit to do. He didn’t want to talk about this. Even with a good man like Silas Goodknight deserving his time, reminding him he wasn’t good enough for Faye and why, he had no intention of backing off.

“I didn’t take offense and I hope you won’t either when I say I’m not gonna back off Faye. She’s pretty, she’s sweet, she’s kind and she’s funny. She makes me laugh. She gives me hope. I already know it’s selfish to be with her and I don’t care. Haven’t ever had the beauty she brings to my life, Silas, and six years ago I lost the hope I ever would. Selfish or not, I’ve experienced it now so I’m holdin’ on. No way I’m lettin’ that go. But because I respect the man I know you are, including the fact that you’re the kind of father who created that beauty, I’ll give you somethin’ so you can walk away with a little peace of mind. I’ll bend over backward, tie myself in knots and break my neck to do what I can to return the beauty she’s giving me. This isn’t God’s house but it cannot be denied my house is in God’s country so you can take that as you will when you get that vow.”

Silas Goodknight stared at Chace without saying a word but Chace saw his eyes working. He just had no chance to prompt him to spit it out or find some way to shut this down because his cell rang.

He yanked it out of his pocket, looked at the display and muttered a distracted, “Sorry, need a minute,” as he set down his coffee mug, took the call and wandered to the sink as he greeted, “Hey baby.”

“The boy wrote us a note!” Faye screeched in his ear.

Chace blinked at the landscape out his window. “What?”

“The boy wrote us a note! His name is Malachi!”

Jesus, Malachi? What the hell kind of name was Malachi?

“He says he likes Snickers,” she went on excitedly in a quick rush. “He says the sleeping bag is super warm. He says he wants to read Holes and he wants the next Harry Potter. And he says he was able to get into the showers at the campsite north of town and take a shower! Isn’t… that… awesome?” she finished on a cry.

“Yeah, honey,” Chace agreed on a smile.

“We broke through!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he repeated.

“It was in the return bin. My hands were shaking when I read it. Heck, they’re still shaking.”

Christ, she was cute.

And she was right. It was awesome so Chace made a decision.

“Steppin’ it up,” Chace told her.

She hesitated before she asked, “What?”

“Done with sittin’ in your SUV watchin’ him grab his stash. Monday, I’m in my truck on the street, you’re standin’ by the return bin. If you can talk to him, good. I think this is a sign he might be willin’ to slip through that opening we created. Your mission will be to get him to come into the library and talk to us both. We get his story. We feel him out. See what he’ll give us. See if he’ll trust us and trust that CPS can look after him.”

“Don’t you think it’s too soon?” she asked anxiously. “He just wrote us a note.”

“Faye, honey, we been doing this for near on two weeks and he’s sleepin’ rough. We’re givin’ him shit but he’s still takin’ care of himself and he’s a little kid. He needs a roof over his head. Hot, good food in his belly. A guiding hand. Schooling. We can have no idea how long he’s been out there. He isn’t safe. We gotta get him safe and not in three weeks. If we can manage it, Monday.” She didn’t respond so he prompted, “You with me on this plan?”

“Uh… okay,” she answered with zero enthusiasm.

Clearly, she wasn’t with him.

“We’ll go cautious,” he said quietly. “I might be a threat. You hopefully won’t. So it’s you at the returns. He doesn’t want to go into the library, you give him an alternate option. A home-cooked dinner and a hot shower in a real bathroom on Monday night. No strings, he can walk away. But we’ll talk to him while he’s eatin’ and do what we can to make him not want to walk away. You good with that?”

“Um… sure.”

Still hesitant, no enthusiasm, worried.

“Baby,” he tried gentle this time, “we’re not gonna swoop down on him, cuff him and throw him in a cage. Ask him what his favorite meal is. Promise him you’ll make it. You make it, the way you cook, him livin’ rough, he’ll love it. We broke through. Now we push the advantage.”

“Get to him through his stomach,” she whispered.

“It’s worked so far,” he replied and heard her soft, melodic giggle.

“Okay, Chace,” she agreed more firmly.

“Okay,” he said through a smile.

“I’m bringing champagne over tonight to celebrate,” she declared.

“I’ll pick some up today, you just bring you.”

A pause, this one slightly annoyed then, “Chace, I can afford champagne.”

She was right and she was wrong. She had a junker car, lived on the cheap in a rental that was kickass but mostly because she made it that way and, until recently, she walked pretty much everywhere she needed to go unless it was to the mall, her parents’ or her sister’s.

He’d been looking into the shit with the library and her salary was a matter of public record. She had a Master’s Degree and got paid just above half of his salary. It wasn’t poverty line but it also wasn’t what you’d expect someone with that level of education and increasing experience to get. She ran the library. Her job description was three pages long. Budgets, accounting, acquisitions, promotion, programs and managing a volunteer staff that Faye had told him numbered at five. She was a one-woman show. Her salary was peanuts for that level of responsibility.

Chace had found this disturbing, especially with the threat of closure. He didn’t know a lot about it but he was looking into it and it didn’t look good, particularly with the cutbacks at CPD. In fact, it hinted at further corruption in the City Council which would surprise him and annoy him. They didn’t need any more of that shit and he didn’t want to have to deal with it. He just hadn’t had the chance to dig deeper.

So she could afford champagne but not only would he rather she spend her money on the kid, dresses and boots like she wore to The Rooster, he was the kind of man who took care of his woman. Furthermore, he was going to the grocery store. He wanted her at his place to eat and then do other things, not making stops before she got there.

“Faye, I’m goin’ to the store in about ten minutes. No need for us both to go,” he pointed out. “I’ll get champagne.”

That bought him a quiet, sweet, “Oh. Right. Of course.”

Chace grinned at the window again.

“Well, I suppose I should climb down from cloud nine and get to work,” she remarked and he heard it as he often did. Even when she was cute, sleepy and hot on the phone in the morning, she didn’t like to let him go. She didn’t say it flat out, even tried to hide it, but it was there.

Chace liked that.

“Get to work and I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay, honey. See you tonight.”

“Later, Faye.”

“’Bye Chace and…” she paused then whispered, “Malachi. Yay.”

She wasn’t cute. She was fucking cute.

Through his grin, he muttered, “Bye, baby.”

He disconnected, turned and his body gave an involuntary start, a reaction he showed and couldn’t bury, an unusual occurrence.

This was because, first, he’d forgotten Silas Goodknight was even there.

And second, Silas Goodknight was smiling at him huge.

“Right!” Silas stated smartly and put his mug on the island with more force than needed. “That’s that. I’ll expect you and Faye over for dinner next Saturday night. Be there at six. Sondra likes flowers, pink ones. Just tell Holly, Holly’ll know what to do. Or tell Faye, she’ll know what to do too. Other than that, bring you and a big appetite. Sondra may bitch about me takin’ care of myself but that don’t mean when company comes, she don’t like to show off.”

As Chace processed going from Silas’s surprise visit the reason for which was to tell him he didn’t want Chace dating his daughter to Silas asking Chace and Faye to dinner, Silas moved toward the front door.

With no other choice, Chace followed him.

They were outside, Chace at the top of the steps opening his mouth to give his farewell or say something else altogether, Silas at the bottom when Silas turned, locked eyes with Chace and beat him to speaking.

“Don’t know the path you’re on to the man you want to be. Do know that in any man’s life, the journey includes dark places we find ourselves in where we don’t wanna be. I get that you were in a dark place. I get you were there for a good while. I also know you made your way out. I don’t understand why you don’t think you’ve found the light and I won’t ask. You already told me you won’t share. I get that too. I probably wouldn’t either. But I know from the way you spoke about my daughter, the look on her face when she was talkin’ to me and Sondra about you last weekend, what she told us you were doin’ for that boy she took to lookin’ after and what I heard just now on the phone, you’ve already found that man. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

As Chace stood in the cold in his jeans, shirt, sweater and socks staring down the stairs, Silas lifted a hand and finished, “See you next weekend.”

Then he sauntered down Chace’s walk to his Wrangler.

Chace watched him give another short wave through the windshield before he did a three-point turn and drove down Chace’s lane.

Chace continued to stare after him as the Wrangler turned left and motored toward Carnal.

Then he grinned and muttered, “Fuck me,” before he turned on his foot and walked back into his house.

As Chace drove up the drive to Tate Jackson’s house in the hills, he noted Tate had the company that Chace suggested he have. Deke’s beat up pickup truck. Wood’s Ford F-150. Ty’s Landcruiser. And a Cherokee Chace couldn’t place but he suspected it was Holden Maxwell’s considering Chace suggested Max get a call.

Deke Hightower was a drifter but he had a strict path that he drifted between. Carnal to Sturgis. He lived simple. Beat up pickup. Harley. Roof over his head. Jeans on his ass. Food in his belly. And beer at Bubba’s or the All American Roadhouse in Sturgis, whisky if he felt like living it up. He took odd jobs along the way in order to facilitate this life. The man was rough, monosyllabic and enormous in height and breadth. This hid the fact that he was smart as a whip. But he didn’t try to hide the fact that he was loyal. He had Tate’s back when Tate and Laurie were getting to know each other and all that went down with that. He had Ty’s back during his drama.

Coal “Wood” Blackwood owned a share of the family run garage in town. They specialized in Harleys. His father started it, built it up and now anyone that lived in a two hundred and fifty mile radius who had the funds to get their bike worked on at their garage brought it to Pop and Wood’s. Wood’s father, Pop, was a devoted Harley man who saddled Wood with a biker’s son biker name that surprisingly Wood, considering he was also a biker, refused to answer to and everyone called him Wood unless they wanted his fist in their groin. Rumor had it he’d spent his teenage years and early twenties spreading this message wide and now no one called him anything else. Not even “Mr. Blackwood”.

Chace parked, walked up the steps and down Tate’s deck to the door while taking in the conifers all around dusted with snow.

Tate was a mountain man to Chace’s plains man. Tate got his quiet and peace from being surrounded by nothing but trees.

Even before the shit that went down with him, Chace liked the openness of the plains, the vistas panoramic, the opportunities to make a surprise approach nonexistent.

Tate liked seclusion. You had to know where you were going to find Tate’s house. If you happened on it by accident or design, he had the firepower and willingness to use it in order to encourage you to explain why you’d wandered his way and get you to move on if he didn’t like your answers.

Chace hit the door and opened it without a knock because he saw the men sitting around the dining room table just inside. The owner of the Cherokee was who Chace expected, Holden Maxwell. Not a local, he owned a construction company in Gnaw Bone. However, he was a friend of Ty’s and his wife was an attorney. She was the attorney who acted as Ty’s attorney so he, like everyone, was not unaware of what had gone down. Although not intimately involved, he still had ties.

“Beer?” Tate asked as Chace closed the door.

“Yep,” Chace answered

Greetings were exchanged by chin, eyes or words as Chace took his seat at the table and Tate put a beer in front of him.

As Tate reseated himself, Chace asked, “The women?”

His eyes went to Ty who answered.

“Lexie and me moved into a huge-ass house last week. Furniture we got filled about a sixteenth of it. We also got a fuckload of money in the bank, courtesy of the State of California. This means Lexie, Laurie and Maggie are shoppin’ for furniture. It also means, by tonight, I’ll have to hire an architect to add onto my already huge-ass house because we’ll have more furniture than we can fit in the fuckin’ place.”

Chace felt his mouth twitch. Lexie definitely liked to shop, this was well-known. But what was funny was the fact that Ty was bitching when he didn’t give one shit Lexie was out dropping a load of cash. First, they had it. Second, he’d lasso the moon if it made his wife happy.

Chace muttered, “Right,” and took a sip of beer. Then his eyes went around the table and he started, “Got shit to do and got shit news. Wanna brief you, get the shit part done and then get on with the shit I gotta do.”

More chin lifts, Chace took another sip of beer and sat back in his chair before he went on.

“Got a visit from one of my father’s men. Man’s name is Clinton Bonar. You may know him,” Chace stated, his eyes not missing Tate’s flashing with recognition. “You might not. My advice, you get the chance, don’t. He introduces himself, walk away then five seconds later, call me. He’s an asshole and of all the varieties of asshole there are, he’s at the top of the scale of the worst there could be. Unfortunately, the last time I saw him, he was an asshole with a message.”

Chace took another sip of beer and continued, sharing what Bonar shared and as he did the alert but relaxed vibe in the room lost the relaxed part. This came especially from Ty when Chace mentioned his father’s tapes.

So when Chace finished, he did it eyes on Ty and he did it quietly.

“I do not give a fuck you have them. I also don’t give a fuck what you do with them. What I ask is that if you intend to use them, you give me a head’s up so I can do what I can to soften the blow for my mother. Me requesting you being here was not me doin’ what Bonar wanted. I do not intend to be the errand boy for those assholes. I’m outta that shit. No more. I’m just sayin’ this so all of you can keep your eyes and ears open, be aware, be cautious and report to me or Frank anything that concerns you. Frank and the Cap know all of this. Whatever happens, we agree, we deal with it openly, within protocol, as a matter of police business. Maybe they’ll see the wisdom of backing off and dealing with Newcomb quietly. Maybe a storm is brewing. We just need to be vigilant.”

“Not gonna use those tapes,” Ty declared when Chace stopped talking.

“Like I said, don’t care what you do with them,” Chace replied.

“Not gonna use ‘em, don’t even fuckin’ want ‘em. Got a kid comin’, don’t need shit like that in my house. I’ll collect ‘em, give ‘em to you. That way, at least you’re clear with your Dad and they think of doin’ somethin’ stupid, Lexie and I are outside their warpath,” Ty returned.

“You do not need to buckle to these men,” Chace told him quietly and Ty leaned across the table toward him.

“I’m not bucklin’ to those motherfuckers.” His deep voice rumbled firmly. “I do not want that shit in my house. I have no use for it. I got a wife who don’t need any more bullshit and handin’ over some sick-ass sex tapes is a small price to pay for keepin’ her clear of that shit. I have no intention of fuckin’ with your mother’s head. We both been forced down a murky road together, you and me, and as we moved down that road, we didn’t know we had company. When shit got extreme, you had my back. You also had my wife’s. So I’m also doin’ this for you. What I’m not doin’ it for is those motherfuckers. But they can think I am. I don’t give a fuck. They don’t factor in my life and once those tapes are out of it, the last nuance of them is too.”

Chace saw his point, seeing as it was hard to miss, and nodded.

“Am I the only one here that thinks that maybe a full frontal assault to teach a lesson that the town’s not gonna be fucked with anymore is the way to go?” Deke asked and this was not a surprise. Deke behaved himself in Bubba’s because if he didn’t, he’d get an ass full of buckshot from Krystal’s shotgun. But Carnal to Sturgis was paved with bars that saw Deke’s blood or, more often, blood he caused to flow hit the pavement in parking lots. He was not a man to sit on his hands or back down from a fight.

His question got two “Yeahs”, one from Wood, one from Chace with a, “Uh… yeah, Deke. It’s only you,” from Tate.

Ty just grinned at him. Max grinned at the table.

Then Max looked at Chace. “You need me to give Mick a head’s up about this?”

The Mick he was talking about was Mick Shaughnessy, the top guy at Gnaw Bone’s Police Department.

“You wanna do that, it’d save me time,” Chace answered. “He has questions, tell him he can give me a call.”

“Will this reach to Gnaw Bone?” Max went on and Chace kept his gaze.

Then he replied, “It happens. Yes. Two men vulnerable in Gnaw Bone. One sits on the City Council. One has an office down the hall from your wife.”

Chace watched Max’s face get hard then he whispered, “Fuck.”

“Don’t know what they got on him and don’t know who Darren’s squeezin’. Just know he’s made payoffs in the past and he’s provided free legal advice,” Chace informed him.

“This does not make me happy,” Max informed Chace.

“It wouldn’t make me happy either,” Chace agreed. “But my understanding is, Nina put out her shingle and shares office space with George but she didn’t partner with him. If Newcomb’s after George then he’s runnin’ scared. He’ll do all in his power to keep this from Nina. My guess only, she’s legally and financially clear, unless he’s outed and dishonored, she never has to know and there’s no need to drag her in. She’s your wife, your call. But you tell Mick. He’ll have her back.”

Max pulled in breath through his nose before he sighed and sat back and what Chace knew of Max, by that evening, both Mick Shaughnessy and Nina Maxwell would know. What Chace knew of Nina Maxwell, by Monday, George Nielson, a prominent attorney in the area, would have the side of her tongue, something feared widely since she knew how to use it, and possibly he’d be looking for new office space. She’d moved in with him when she’d moved to Gnaw Bone to marry Max. Still, she’d get the offices. Nina Maxwell was also not one to back down from a fight, she fought on the side that was right and she rarely lost.

“Right, so, our shit storm might not be over. Bad news but fuck it, we’ve been livin’ with worse,” Wood said at this point. “Now, what I wanna know is,” his eyes came to Chace and his lips surrounded by his goatee twitched, “are you seriously datin’ the town’s librarian?”

At this point, Chace sighed.

“Saw her with him and Bubba’s,” Deke confirmed then said with emphasis and a scary grin, “Tight.”

“You think I’ll man up while you trash talk Faye, I’ll shut that down now,” Chace said low and there were more lip twitches.

“Is it possible to trash talk Faye?” Tate asked then went on, his lips surrounded by a full on beard curved upwards, “Pure as the driven snow.”

Fuck.

“Been around,” Wood muttered, grinning at Tate. “Done a lot. Never been down a road no one’s ever taken.”

Fuck.

“Sweet,” Deke whispered, his grin aimed at Chace.

Chace took a healthy slug of beer this time as he rose. After he found his feet, he put the bottle on the table and announced, “Now, I’m shuttin’ this shit down. Thanks for the beer and the time,” he said to Tate then moved his gaze through the men before he began to leave.

“You don’t get it, Keaton,” Ty’s voice stopped him and his tone made Chace look back. “Clean pussy therefore undoubtedly sweet pussy, we’re happy for you, man.”

“Not sure I like you referring to Faye as ‘pussy’,” Chace warned, not giving that first fuck Ty had five inches and a shitload of bulky muscle on him.

“Lex don’t like it either but she got used to it. You will too,” Ty replied.

“Terrific,” Chace muttered not thinking in a million years that Ty Walker would be his bud. Now after getting the Walker Style “you’re in my posse” statement, he was at odds with how he felt about it.

“He’s not lyin’, Chace,” Tate said quietly and Chace looked to him. “That works out, pleased for you. You get a good woman in your bed, life has a way of straightening itself out.”

“Road can’t be murky, it’s got light shinin’ on it,” Ty added. Chace shook his head, not at odds with how he felt about Tatum Jackson and Tyrell Walker, two of the biggest badasses he knew, demonstrating signs they were pussy whipped and didn’t give a shit.

“She’s got any friends, I’m on the market,” Deke put in at this point and Chace was done.

To communicate this, he lifted a hand, dropped it, moved to the door and the sounds of deep, low chuckles followed him out.

It took him two steps to shake that shit off.

Firstly, because it wasn’t nasty or jacked so it wasn’t worth getting irritated at.

Secondly, because he had a shitload of food at his house including a bottle of hazelnut half and half.