a thin veil of hurt hiding beneath her features, and a part of me feels sorry for her.
“That’s it.” Shep needles her with a look that says we are over and I’ve moved on. The moment feels intimate, intense, and like one that I want no part in.
“Yes, well, I’ve got an entire gaggle of hangry brides on my hands, so if you’ll excuse me…”
Shep cinches his grip over my body. “What are you doing here tonight?” he inquires of Carmella as if I had suddenly become invisible.
“I—” She glances toward the bar. “Rich is meeting up with a friend. I was just tagging along.”
“Third wheel, huh?” I couldn’t help it. This is getting old, and so are my customers. “Sort of like you are now. If you’ll excuse us, Shep was just about to help me out in the back. It’s where we shared our first kiss, and we like to recreate the memory each time I’m on a shift break.” I haul him with me toward the kitchen, linking my arm through his as if I had my own unwanted groom on my hands as we waltz down the beer-laden aisle.
“What did you do that for?”
“It was your get out of carrying on an awkward conversation with your ex free card, buddy, and you’re welcome,” I say, slapping my orders over the kitchen counter. I can’t help but note two huge bags of trash sitting in the hall that leads to the alley. I’m not surprised. We’re so swamped there aren’t enough hands to do what’s needed.
“Here.” I grab a bag and toss it to Shep. “Make yourself useful,” I say before snapping up the second one and kicking the back door open with my foot. I step out into the humid night and take in a lungful of sour dumpster air as I try to open the wooden gate that leads to the receptacle, but it’s stuck. “Crap. I swear, if another thing goes wrong tonight, I’m blaming the entire fiasco on you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” I say, pulling and tugging at the gate until it gives, and I take a stumbling step back. “You always seem to be around when—” Just as I’m about to pin Shep for the fact the world is burning, the words get lodged in my throat and I gag.
“Go ahead and say it. I’m great, and you’re obsessed with me.” He pitches his bag over the gate and lands it neatly into the dumpster. “He shoots, he scores!”
“Shep?” My insides bounce and quiver, my muscles freeze solid as if threatening never to move again. Lying on his side, just shy of my feet, is an all too familiar greasy blond male with his face set in a scowl, his eyes staring up at me blankly, that lip print of mine still firmly planted just below his neck. “It’s him. It’s Dirty Boy.”
Shep leans in and freezes. “Holy crap. Hey, buddy. You all right?” He reaches down and gives Dirty Boy’s shoulder a quick jostle, rolling him onto his back, and we gasp in unison. The entire front of the poor man’s shirt is drenched in blood. Shep wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me back a good foot as if yanking me out of the danger zone. “He’s dead, Serena. He’s dead.”
Shepherd
There is a lot going through your mind when you’re staring at a body—a hell of a lot and not one damn thing makes sense. Serena starts in on a hyperventilating scream, and that snaps me out of my daze long enough to call 911. In seconds, sirens blare this way, an entire fleet of squad cars shows up, an ambulance, a fire truck and, yes, finally a large white van marked with the word coroner in small discreet letters across the side.
Bryson, one of the Black Bear’s owners, pulls Serena and me toward the building while the cops do their thing. I know both Bryson and his twin, Holt, as well as their sister, Annie. The three of them own the bar together. I’ll be teaching a summer session class at Whitney Briggs, and they’ve been nice enough to let me use the Black Bear as an interning opportunity as a part of the business course I’m instructing.
“So, you came to take out the trash and you just saw him lying there?” Bryson repeats for the third time. His eyes bulge wide as sweat beads above his lip. He’s a tough dude, muscles for days, but he looks shaken,