“What’s your gut say?” Mike asked, knowing exactly what his was saying after hearing all that shit.
“My gut says that Dusty’s property is out of town. Not out of our jurisdiction but she’s not in the town proper and thus not an easy drive-by. So my gut says I’ll be calling some friends at the County Sheriff after we’re done and cluin’ them in. Between the Sheriff’s boys and my boys, we can keep a better eye on her. That said, no way this is twenty-four, seven. She’s out of town and sittin’ on twenty acres so no one close and she’s not prone to lockin’ her doors ‘cause, lucky for us, crime ‘round these parts, especially out in the boonies where Dusty lives, isn’t prevalent. So I told her to keep her doors locked, including on her truck when she’s in it and including when she’s awake and in the house. I also told her to keep her music down when she’s workin’ so she can be more aware. This mornin’, he snuck up on her. She was so into what she was doin’ and had her music on, she didn’t see him comin’. That shit stops today. And I’m also gonna have a word with Javier who comes a couple times a month to look after her land and Yolanda who comes every week to look after her house to keep their eyes open.”
That was a lot and because it was, this did not make Mike feel good.
“You think he’s that big of a problem?” Mike asked quietly.
“No. But I think I was a cop in Dallas for ten years and I saw shit that you, also bein’ a cop, are probably one of the few who would believe. Safe is a fuckuva lot better than sorry.”
“I’m with you, man,” Mike muttered then spoke louder when he asked, “How was she when you left her?”
“Pissed as all hell,” Rivera answered immediately. “Luckily it’s boot camp day so she can go with Jerra and work it out doin’ lunges and squats and whatever-the-fuck they do.”
Mike blinked. Then he asked, “Boot camp?”
“You don’t got those up there in the Hoosier state?”
“Yeah, we do. Just that Dusty does not have an ass that says she goes to boot camps.”
Thankfully.
“Uh…neither does Jerra. Lucky for you and me, bro, we got our hooks into the whole package. A handful and I mean that literally and thank God for it daily. But under all that soft she’s got power which means she can grip tight. You get what I’m sayin’?”
He got it. Saturday and Sunday, he got it a number of times.
“Oh yeah,” he muttered.
“Yeah, I know it, bro. Only one reason a man’s up in a woman’s business after a funeral hook up and that reason ain’t because he’s nostalgic about his ex-girlfriend’s kid sister who he fucked on the good Samaritan errand of takin’ her mind off her loss.”
Mike started chuckling. Dusty was a straight shooter and it appeared she surrounded herself with the same thing.
“Right,” Rivera went on. “I got calls to make to cover the ass you’re tappin’. Gotta go.”
“Thanks, Rivera.”
“I’d say you’re welcome but I think you get I’m not doin’ this for you.”
“I get that. Thanks all the same.”
“Still, donuts, bro.”
“Look forward to it.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
Mike hit the button on his phone, turned back to his desk, looked across the expanse and the expanse of the desk pushed up against it, front-to-front, and caught his partner, Garrett “Merry” Merrick’s eyes on him.
“You gonna talk?” Merry prompted.
He’d been listening. Mike wasn’t surprised. That’s what partners did.
He hadn’t shared. Not yet. Then again, it had only been a day.
But Merry was his partner. So he shared.
“Remember Dusty Holliday?”
Merry tipped his head to the side and said, “Yeah. Vaguely.”
“She was in town for her brother’s funeral this weekend.”
Merry’s face grew understanding even as his lips twitched and he repeated, this time in a question, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” was all Mike said.
Merry’s mouth stopped twitching and started grinning.
“You hit that?” he asked.
Mike stared at him.
Merry pressed his lips together before he unpressed them to mumble, “You hit it.” Then he said straight out, “Good for you, man.”
“Better,” Mike said shortly and Merry’s eyebrows drew together.
“Better?”
“The One,” Mike declared and Merry’s brows shot up.
“The One?” Merry asked.
“The One,” Mike confirmed.
“In a weekend?” Merry asked.
“In a weekend,” Mike confirmed.
“No shit?” Merry whispered.
“Absolutely no fuckin’ shit,” Mike answered.
Merry whistled. Then he smiled.
Then he repeated, “Good for you, man.”
“Oh yeah,” Mike muttered.
Merry tipped his head to Mike’s phone. “She got issues?”
“An ex who isn’t comfortable with that title.”
“Fuck,” Merry murmured.
“Yeah,” Mike replied. “She’s got a friend who’s a cop. He’s takin’ her back and reporting in.”
“She down with that?”
“It was her idea.”