A svelte brunette bustled over from the kitchen and held her hand out to me. “Hi. I’m Cassandra Daughtry.”
After we did the introductions, Cassandra got us drinks. She raised her wine glass at us. “To Clint. There’s no telling what—”
“No, Cassie. We’re not drinking to that,” Clint said.
Gabe said, “Man, like I—”
“No,” Clint said, in a much firmer tone. “We’re not discussing that. Not trying to be rude, but let’s drink to you, your woman, and the future ahead of you both.”
We raised our glasses, but an awkward silence followed the toast.
A timer went off, and Cassie and Gabe went about serving dinner.
AFTER WE ATE, I INSISTED on helping with the dishes. Gabe reluctantly let me take his place drying. He and Clint shot the breeze at the table until Clint’s cell rang.
I watched as he sauntered out to the balcony. After the door was closed, I caught Gabe’s eyes. “What was it he didn’t want to talk about?”
He sighed.
I shifted my gaze to Cassie. “Do you know?”
She looked to Gabe, so I looked back at him. “One of you needs to tell me.”
“He did something that wasn’t easy,” Gabe said.
“That’s an understatement,” Cassie muttered.
“Cassie.”
Her eyes flared. “Gabe, seriously! Him shooting Asher to keep me from being shot again is the very definition of heroic in my book.”
My body stiffened with this knowledge, but I nodded because she was right. Preventing anybody from being shot twice was damn sure heroic. Yet, I wondered why he didn’t want them talking about it. Before I left for New York, he had been a beat cop, carried a gun, and routinely went to target practice. Finding out what he’d done for Cassie wouldn’t have bothered me, so I didn’t understand why it obviously bothered Clint.
The balcony door sliding open interrupted my contemplation.
“Sorry, Gabe. Cassie. I hate for us to eat and run, but I have to get Raegan back, since a case I’m on is heating up.”
Gabe nodded. Cassie opened her arms to me, and I gave her a light hug.
“It was so nice to meet you, Raegan. Have a great evening.”
I thanked them both for having us, and Clint guided me downstairs to his SUV.
Mid-way to Mom’s house, I asked, “Does that happen often? You getting called away in the evening?”
He looked to me and back to the road. “Not that often, but it happens.”
I nodded, since the tone of his voice made me regret asking.
He blew out a breath. “Would’ve thought you’d be done with that shit by now.”
I glared at him. “What shit?”
“Asking what my hours would be like, or what they are like. It damn sure doesn’t matter now.”
I closed my eyes, willing myself to keep my thoughts to myself. Unfortunately, my self didn’t comply.
“Then why would it matter if your friends shared that you killed a man to keep Cassie alive? Why were you so intent on keeping that from coming up? I’m well aware of the training you went through to become a police officer.”
He parallel parked in front of Mom’s house, put the SUV in park, and threw his arm on top of the steering wheel. His eyes were fierce and fiery like earlier, but with an edge of something I couldn’t put my finger on. It might have been disdain, but I didn’t understand why.
“Yeah. You were around when I went through the academy. But you weren’t around when your sister was killed.”
My lungs froze. I wanted to slap him, but my brain froze along with my breath.
“Then again, neither was I,” he muttered, as he turned away from me.
That kicked my brain into gear. “Why would you have been?”
He looked at me askance. “Get out of the truck, Rae. I’d walk you in, but I don’t have time. And I damn sure don’t have time for this asinine conversation.”
I leaned back in the seat. “There’s nothing asinine about finding out why you blame yourself for Wynnie’s murder.”
He looked at me for a beat, shook his head, and then lifted his chin toward the house. “Go. I got shit to do, Raegan.”
My lips were pursed. After a moment I gave him a curt nod. “Thanks for tonight. I’m sorry it ended on such a sour note.”
WHEN I ENTERED THE living room, I found Brock on the couch watching a college football game.
Since there was no sign of Mom, I asked, “Did she need help getting into bed or anything?”
He grinned while turning off the TV. “Nah. Told me she was going to sleep in her housedress.”
My posture slumped, but I pasted a smile on my face. “Well, thank you. Let me check on her quick before you leave.”
His grin became a smile, and my first impression of him was spot-on: Brock was a stunner. “No need, Raegan. I checked on her twenty minutes ago. She’s asleep, and she changed out of her housedress.”
My brows furrowed. “She did? Normally I have to help her.”
He chuckled. “Don’t tell her, but I let her win the second round of Thirty-one Knock. Could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure it put a spring in her step.”
I grinned. “I suspect you’re right. Well, thank you. If there’s anything I can do to repay you—”
His chin dipped. “No. For one thing, Ramsey would kick my ass, and for another, spending time with your mother was a pleasure.”
I gave him a skeptical look. “Bet time with Cecilia would be more pleasurable.”
He shook his head. “That goes without saying. Did Clint leave already?”
I nodded. “He got a call at your brother’s. Something about a case.”
His eyebrows jumped up. “Seems strange he wouldn’t walk you inside at least.”
I huffed out a breath. “Not the way we left it.” He gave me a quizzical look, and I shrugged. “I’m speculating, but based on our limited conversation, it seems he blames himself for my sister being killed.”
“Isn’t that looking like it was ‘accidental?’”
I gave him a look. “It
