we’re going to have issues. Anger stirs in my belly and I have a hard time tamping it down.
Two engines from Grady’s fire station are engaged in fighting the fire. Several firefighters hold hoses, spraying the base of the fire. Other men douse the roof of an adjacent house, making it less likely for the fire to spread. They look like they have things under control, but the house is a total loss.
Blue lights from the cop cars mix with the red and white flashers of the fire engines. It looks like a damn circus is in town. A growl escapes my throat because Grant’s questioning Evelyn.
Her attention shifts and her eyes connect with mine across the distance. Immediately, the lines on her forehead ease and her tight expression softens.
I can’t get to her fast enough and try to storm off. Only, Brody grips my arm tight and he tugs me to a stop.
“What the fuck?” I glare at my brother. He’s between me and my girl.
“I might ask the same.” His grip is solid and he’s not letting go.
I know that look in his eyes.
He drops his voice low, for my ears only. “You need to take a few deep breaths, then tell me why you’re looking at Grant Malone like you want to kill him.”
I yank out of his grip, but his words keep me rooted in place. Damn if he isn’t right.
“He’s the one who arrested Evelyn.” I explain how he resorted to cuffing her in the hospital and how I felt it completely unnecessary. “She would’ve gone quietly, but he had to bring out the damn cuffs. And she had bandages on her arms.”
I’m still pissed at Grant for that.
“I would strongly suggest you shove that shit far down before storming over there. Evelyn doesn’t need you making a scene, and while I wasn’t there, you know Grant. He’s not like that. Whatever happened during her arrest, he had a reason, and you saw what they posted in the Gazette. People are pissed and out for blood.”
What Brody says isn’t something I can argue against. I take a moment to take three deep breaths. He’s right, even if I don’t like it. Evelyn needs my support, which means standing by her side, not stirring up shit and creating problems.
“You good?” Brody bodily turns me until I’m facing him.
The bright blue strobe lights from the police vehicles put me on edge, but I give Brody a nod.
“I’m good.”
“You sure?” The bastard can be persistent.
“I’m sure.”
“Good. Now, go get your girl while Cage and I figure out what the hell happened. Try not to bite Grant’s head off. He’s not the enemy for Christ’s sake.”
There’s no arguing with that. The Malone and La Rouge families have always been close. Betsy Malone and my mother bonded when we were little, commiserating over the challenges of raising three boys and not having the blessing of daughters to spoil.
We spent many weekends at their house, and they rambled around our vineyards growing up. It’s where Grady and Grayson learned to ride dirt bikes and sat behind the wheel of a car for the very first time. Grant was older. As children those few years felt like decades, so I’m not as close to him. Not like Grady. We all looked up to Grant and he always had our backs. Brody’s right. Grant isn’t the bad guy.
As I rush up, Evelyn’s soft voice reaches out to me.
“Asher.” Wrapped in a blanket, she looks smaller than I remember, frail and scared. Her wide eyes hold mine and in them I feel her fear.
Grant spins around. When he sees me, he takes a step back. “It’s good to see you, Ace.”
“Grant.” I give him a clipped nod.
Evelyn’s eyes shimmer with tears. Her cheeks are streaked with soot and dirt, and she’s wrapped in a soiled white robe. I wrap her in my arms, not giving one fuck about her soot-covered mess. She buries her face against my chest and sobs.
“Shh…I’m here.” Fuck if I’m ever leaving her alone again. “What happened?”
Evelyn says something, but between her sobs and her sniffling it’s a blubbering mess. I hold her tight. All she needs to know is that I’m here and that I’ll never let anything bad happen to her again. She may not realize what that means, but I have no intention of letting her go.
“What the fuck happened?” My question isn’t for Evelyn, but rather Grant.
Unlike Pete Sims, Grant is a persistent bastard. I’m glad