Ghost’s dark eyebrows, always with a bit of a sardonic arch, arched higher. “You and me?”
Jared didn’t know what he was thinking; he was sort of flying on autopilot here. The cops should be left to do their job. He damn sure didn’t want to do it for them with this guy, of all people. But police officers were overworked, and this wasn’t their only case. Who knew how long it would take them to locate a person of interest if that person of interest was lying low? The sooner they could find this creep and get him off the streets, the sooner everyone’s lives could go back to normal. The sooner Starla wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. But then she’ll probably be gone.
He knocked that thought aside. “Yeah. If you’re thinking of going to look for him, then I want in.”
“I don’t need backup.”
“Did I say you do? I want to see for myself. No way am I gonna sit back and let him terrorize someone I care about.”
“Hey, I told you—”
“I’m not talking about Macy. You tell me she’s covered. All right, I believe you. I’m talking about Starla.”
Ghost fidgeted. He rubbed a hand over his bald head. Looked helplessly at the doors again, blew out a breath, looked back at Jared. In those mannerisms, Jared saw a guy itching to get shit done, maybe even to work out some pent-up aggression. “I can’t do anything tonight. We have baby duty. If you’re right—and I’m not saying you are—but if there’s even a chance, then fuck if I’m leaving Lyric and the girls alone.”
“Good.” That was what he’d wanted to hear. He dug his cell phone out of his back pocket. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you mine. When you’re ready to move on this, let me know.”
“This is some shit I can’t believe,” Ghost muttered, then recited the digits as Jared typed them in.
Jared’s chuckle deserved the award for least amused sound ever to be formed with human vocal chords. As soon as this was all over, the guy didn’t have to worry about Jared contacting him ever again. He’d wipe that number from his contacts like a filthy secret. But right now, allies weren’t a bad thing to have—the more, the better.
The enemy of your enemy was your friend. “You and me both, man.”
***
Starla sat in silence on the way home. Jared stared straight ahead at the road between glances at her, letting her brood in the peace he knew she so desperately needed. Whatever turmoil was going on behind her soulful brown eyes, it was hers, and she would think he could never understand it.
She might be surprised. He’d also witnessed someone he loved lying broken in a hospital bed. Macy, with her spine fractured. Those horrible moments when they didn’t know if… When they just didn’t know. Would she make it, would she be okay, would she come back from it, would she ride? Would she walk? The only time he could remember being truly terrified in his entire life was the moment he saw her horse throw her off during her championship barrel race, when he saw how hard and how brutally the ground twisted her back. Everything was muddled after that. He’d been there watching her race, cheering her on, and in an instant, life had constricted to a tiny black hole and exploded into a universe full of chaos. He’d been the first to reach her, but he couldn’t touch her. She lay limp as a rag doll, and all he’d wanted was to yank her into his arms, to fix her. And he couldn’t. Even later, after they knew everything would be okay, she wouldn’t let him near her. She’d told him to get out, and he had. She’d shed everything about her life like an old skin, him included.
Loving someone you couldn’t have; damn, he had a degree in it.
One thing he had absolutely no fucking clue about was how it might feel knowing there was a monster out there hunting you. Waiting to pounce on you or someone else close to you. He couldn’t take away Starla’s pain over the guy she loved—he’d never had much luck treating that particular pain himself. But he could do something about the monster.
He’d texted Ghost his number earlier and gotten a thumbs-up emoji back in response. An unlikely partner, that one, but whether he liked it or not, Jared didn’t have much doubt that Ghost would do anything to keep Macy safe, and probably any of his other friends too. He really couldn’t ask for more than that.
“Are you hungry?” he finally asked Starla, sensing her shift in her seat and look over at him in the darkness.
“I haven’t really thought about food since this morning,” she admitted quietly. Then, sighing, she pulled the elastic band from her high ponytail and let her hair fall in voluptuous waves around her shoulders. “I have such a headache.”
“Probably because you haven’t eaten all day,” he said lightly. “Do you feel like going anywhere, or throwing something together at home?”
“Are your cabinets stocked?”
“Pretty well.”