He chuckled. “When shit hits the fan, priorities change. Seeing you covered in blood shifted my views. I don’t care how long or how little we’ve been together. I love you, and I can’t imagine what I’d do without you.”
“I love you, too, honey. And I’m ecstatic you love me.”
His brow arched. “Your tone says there’s another ‘but’ coming.”
I smiled. “But it isn’t lost on me that you avoided my question. Where’s the asshole who grabbed me? For that matter, what are you doing with Diana and Dixon?”
He gave me a wry grin. “Didn’t avoid your question. I didn’t answer it because I’m protecting you. We aren’t married. You wearing my cut is equivalent to marriage in my world, but the law doesn’t see it that way. The less you know about the fall-out, the better.”
My eyes blazed at him. “Now that’s a problem. You really think I’d—”
“Stephanie. I’m protecting you this way. They can’t arrest you for something you don’t know.” He leaned over to kiss my cheek. At my ear he whispered. “They’re all gone. That’s all you need to know.”
Relief surged through me, and part of me knew I should be ashamed of that, but the bigger part of me didn’t care. A man who made my life a living hell and ultimately drove me to Biloxi was dead, and the man who cold-cocked me, stabbed me, and would have left me for dead was no longer walking the earth. None of that bothered me.
I suppressed my grin and pointed my lips to his ear. “That’s all I wanted to know, baby. And I’m glad they are.”
He pulled away from me to give me a look of approval. Then he sank to an elbow to give me a searing kiss goodnight.
Har
IN THE MORNING, HAR left Stephanie sleeping in his bed. He owed serious thanks to God for listening to his prayers.
But as he entered the common room, he wondered if he would need to pray some more.
Detective Dennizen stepped out from in front of Brute to eye Har with border-line disgust. “Just the man I’ve been looking for.”
Brute looked over his shoulder at him, irritation all over his face.
Har smiled. “What can I do for you, Detective?”
His face was stony. “You didn’t tell me your brothers opened up a cookhouse.”
From years of playing cards, he knew not to overdo his disbelief. “I’m sorry. A cookhouse?”
The detective put his hands in his pants pockets. “Yes. Hear this club can’t turn a profit with marijuana, so the time’s ripe to move into meth. That kind of cookhouse.”
Har shook his head. “Sorry, Dennizen. I don’t know anything about a cookhouse.”
Dennizen grinned. “Neighbor across the street saw a man who fits your description visit the house. Says you were on the front porch until another man wearing a Riot MC vest gave you a cell phone. You spent a few moments on the sidewalk talking before you went inside the house.”
Har pressed his lips together and shook his head again. “Sorry to disappoint you, Detective Dennizen. But I was here all evening. Ask Block or Joules. I was helping Block with a computer problem he had.”
Dennizen arched a dark brow. “You know about computer problems? Thought you ran a custom paint shop?”
He nodded. “I do, and I rely on my computer to get my graphics right. Did what I could to help my brother out with his problems last night.”
Dennizen dipped his chin. “I’d believe that, if only I could find Furman Pollard or Norris Strickland.” At Har’s puzzled look, Dennizen added, “A.K.A. Massive and Wreck.”
Har tilted his head. “We’d like to find them, too. They’ve missed so many meetings, we’re gonna have to levy steep fines against them.”
The detective shook his head. “You know, I misspoke. I found Pollard. Or, the M.E.’s pretty sure we found him. That cookhouse burned the ground last night.”
“That’s crazy,” Har said.
Brute nodded. “Exactly what I said.”
Dennizen looked between them. “Thing is, there were three other bodies in that house, but Strickland’s wasn’t one of them.”
Har stared past the detective for a moment as though lost in thought. Then he caught Dennizen’s gaze.
“You don’t think Wreck did something to Massive, do you?”
The detective’s eyes turned sharp. “Now why would you think that?”
Har shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just one possibility. I mean, we aren’t getting into meth, no matter what you might think, detective. Not only is it illegal, but it’s my understanding it’s dangerous to make that shit. Though I only have Breaking Bad to go by on that.”
Before the detective could say anything further, Block wandered up to Har’s side. “Morning, Prez. Thanks for your help last night.”
That might have been laying it on too thick. The detective speared Block with a glare. “What kind of computer problems did you have last night?”
Block gave the detective a hard look. “None that are the business of the Biloxi PD, but since you asked, my motherboard had a kernel error pushing a PHP code to the root system file—”
Detective Dennizen held a hand up. “Never mind. I don’t understand half that shit you said, but I still don’t believe Mr. Walcott gave you any assistance with it because how would he know a kernel error from a megabyte?”
Har knew Block had spewed a bunch of nonsensical techno babble to get Dennizen off his case, but he had to keep up his end of it. He looked from Brute to Block.
“I think he’s insulting me.” He focused on Dennizen. “I know a megabyte from a kernel, seeing as I only take high resolution graphics for my custom paint jobs. But I was a sounding board to Block while he tried to figure it out. I remembered a buddy of mine has an IT connection, and that damn sure did the trick for Block.”
Dennizen glared at the three of them before shaking his head. He pulled a business card from his wallet and put it on the bar. “You see Norris
