Forever Found

by Allyson Charles

  She disconnected.

  “…talk.”

  Gabe glared at his phone. What the hell? The woman who had something to say about everything didn’t want to talk? Now?

  He flicked off his blinker and drove straight ahead toward his house. Did that mean she was happy with the status quo? After all, she’d come to him to scratch an itch. She was smart, beautiful, and rich. Anything more serious than a fling with Gabe was probably laughable to her.

  His chest tensed. She was so far out of his league they might as well have been playing two different sports. But when she welcomed him into her home, her body, when she gave him sass or stuck up for him in front of the cops, it didn’t feel like she thought he was less.

  Maybe she’d hung up on him for a different reason. Maybe she didn’t like having an asshole yelling at her over the phone. Or telling her she was thoughtless. Yeah, those were equally good reasons for her cold shoulder.

  Though he hadn’t said anything untrue. She’d screwed up and it wasn’t Gabe’s fault if she didn’t want to own her mistake.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. What the hell did he know? Maybe there had been another haiku she’d wanted to get back to. He did know he was tired and pissy and a poor excuse for company.

  He put a heavy foot on the accelerator. There was one bright spot about this whole debacle. He’d get home in time to ruin Dax’s evening. After all, if Gabe couldn’t cuddle up next to the woman he wanted, why should Dax?

  Chapter Thirteen

  The bell over the door jangled, but Gabe kept his head down over his plate. He loved the food at The Pantry, a diner located in downtown Pineville, but all the residents were too damn friendly. Avoiding eye contact was critical if he was to finish his lunch without interruption. That and seating himself in the corner booth, away from the majority of diners. The hostess had tried leading him to a center table, but he’d ignored that suggestion.

  He took a bite of the blue-and-bacon burger. All the elements for a perfect burger were there. Medium-rare ground sirloin. Caramelized onions. A buttery brioche bun. He took another bite. It tasted like dust. Nothing was tasting right today. There’d been a sour flavor in the back of his throat since he’d woken up that wouldn’t go away no matter how much whiskey, iced tea, or perfectly cooked burger slid past it.

  He dropped the last quarter of the burger onto the plate. He was a grade-A dick nine-tenths of his waking hours. He knew this. It worked for him.

  Except when it didn’t. And being a dick to Marla wasn’t something he could remain indifferent about. Not any longer. She deserved better.

  The bell tinkled again. The two busybodies who managed the Forever Friends website walked in, chattering like magpies. Damn it. Eye contact was made. He scowled down at his plate and reached for the salt shaker, trying to look busy.

  It was no use. Two pairs of orthopedic shoes stamped into his peripheral vision. “Hello there, young man. Just the person we wanted to see.”

  Another voice said, “We wanted to see Brad. This one’s just the sloppy second.”

  He muttered an oath under his breath and looked up. The two women were a study in contrasts. Eugenie Shaw, small and slender in a fuzzy pastel button-down sweater. Deborah Garcia, taller and round, and wearing a stretchy electric-blue top that burned Gabe’s retinas. He focused on the short one. “Brad’s at the shelter. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to speak with you.” There. That was polite. He could do nice.

  “Yes, but we’re here for lunch and he’s not.” Debbie plopped down on the seat across from him and slid to the wall. Eugenie sat next to her, and they both folded their hands and stared at him expectantly.

  Bugger. Nice got him nothing. “But I don’t have anything to do with the website or the social media accounts. So, if you’ll excuse me…” He waved his hand at the restaurant, hoping they’d take the hint that they were welcome to sit anywhere they wanted as long as it wasn’t with him.

  They did not. “You know enough.” Debbie waved down a waitress and the women ordered salads and tea.

  “You’re getting a salad?” Eugenie’s eyebrows shot up under the brim of her round hat. “You never order salad.”

  Gabe interrupted. “Could I get my check?” he asked the waitress. She nodded, jotted down the orders, and hurried away. He turned back to the two bickering women. “I’m leaving as soon as my check arrives. Say what you want to say now.”

  With a sniff, Eugenie faced front. “We want to discuss the new app. There are some bugs—”

  “That’s an understatement,” Debbie muttered. She smiled sweetly at the waitress who delivered two steaming mugs of water with a small box of tea bags. But no check.

  “When you log on to the site, are you going in as an administrator or a user?” Eugenie asked. She dipped a tea bag into her cup and stared at him, unblinking.

  “I don’t know. Marla told me the web address, gave me a username and password, and I was in.” He pushed his plate away. “I’ve only ever been to that backend page once. You should really be talking to Brad about this.” The pleading in his voice brought him the smallest tinge of shame.

  “User,” Eugenie said to Debbie, and both women nodded.

  He rubbed his hand down his bare cheek. The bruises on his face had faded. He’d spent an uncalled-for amount of time shaving that morning, making sure no whisker escaped. For the first time that he could ever remember, he hadn’t wanted to go to work. “Look, all I can tell you about the app is that I looked at the messages on the site one time. The picture showed up and the address, but it was hidden among a whole bunch of bullsh—… gibberish. Random numbers and letters. That is my sole experience with your app and that’s all the help I can give.” The bell jangled again, and a man in uniform strode inside. He caught sight of Gabe in the back and gave a slow head bob.

  Gabe’s chest tightened. Jerome. Someone else he didn’t want to talk to.

  “Young man, there is nothing random when it comes to code.” Deborah pushed her mug aside for the waitress to lower her large salad bowl to the table. She looked over at Eugenie’s plate. “You got more chicken.”

  “I did not.” Eugenie blocked Deborah’s fork before it could stab a chicken slice. “Yours is hiding under that piece of lettuce.”

  Gabe snatched his bill from the startled waitress and jumped from his seat. He needed distance from this stupid fight. His chest tightened. There was that word again. Stupid. What he’d called Marla, or more accurately her behavior. And while he stood by the opinion that her tipping off the whole damn neighborhood wasn’t her smartest move, he had to admit she wasn’t the only one who’d been acting with half a brain lately.

  He hustled to the cashier, the blue uniform at the counter a constant presence in the corner of his eye. He scrawled his name on the credit card receipt and told his feet to turn and head out the door. They shuffled to the counter instead.

  “Jerome,” he said as he stood next to the cop.

  “Gabe.” The observant eyes flicked up and down his body.

  Gabe frowned. “Can we talk?”

  The man pointed to the empty seat beside him. Noticing Gabe’s hesitation, he said, “Unless you’d prefer it to be at Pineville PD.”

  In an interrogation room, no doubt. Gabe sat on the stool. “Here is fine.”

  The owner of the diner, Allison Hamilton, stopped in front of him on the other side of the counter. “A second lunch, Gabe? I know my food is good but it’s not exactly healthy. You should think about your cholesterol.” She gave him a wink.

  “Just talking to Jerome.”

  She raised a coffeepot in question. He shook his head. “Okay, what can I get for you then, sweetie?” She turned her smile on the cop, and he gave her his order. The two gabbed, and Gabe tapped his fingers on the counter. Maybe an interrogation room would be better. Less chitchat.

  Allison patted Jerome
’s hand. “The patty melt is coming right up.” And with a bounce of platinum hair, she sauntered on down the counter.

  Jerome sipped his coffee. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Pineville’s tree trimming ceremony,” Gabe said sarcastically. He gripped the edge of the counter. He’d come to Jerome, he reminded himself. No sense in aggravating the man.

  “I want to talk about the fights that have started up again.” Gabe turned his stool, blocking out the woman seated next to him. “I don’t want to see any more dogs coming through my exam room.”

  “No one wants that.” Leaning back, Jerome crossed his arms. “It helps when the public is forthcoming about what they know.”

  “I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”

  Jerome arched an eyebrow. “I looked through old case files. There used to be a pretty bad ring hereabouts a decade or so ago. My predecessor investigated, and one of the people he interviewed was you.” Jerome sipped his coffee, the moment of silence just long enough for Gabe to remember the panic he’d felt when Officer Rogan had come knocking on his door. “His notes indicate that you had nothing to say back then.”

  “He came around throwing accusations. No one in my family was ever charged.” Gabe’s knuckles went white. Why he still felt the need to protect his family name, he didn’t know. But a cop poking around his skeletons got his hackles up faster than a dog with a mailman knocking on the front door.

  “There’s a lot of space between suspicion, getting charged, and being guilty.” Jerome thanked Allison as she laid a plate in front of him. He rubbed his hands together. Unfolding his napkin, he tucked a corner under the top button of his collar.

  “Or innocent.” Gabe gritted his teeth together.

  “Or innocent,” Jerome agreed. “What’s on your mind today?”

  Gabe shifted in his seat. This was going to be a fine needle to thread. “I have some names. People who used to be involved in that bullshit.” He blew out a breath. “People I knew.”

  “More people never charged?”

  Gabe nodded. “You’ll have only my word they were involved.”

  “And how do you know this?” Jerome took a bite of his patty melt and chewed, his eyes fixed on Gabe’s face. “If you weren’t involved before…?”

  Gabe stared at the drip, drip, drip of the coffeemaker. “I used to run with a bad crowd.”

  “Uh-huh.” A splotch of mayonnaise dripped from his sandwich onto his plate. Dropping the patty melt down, Jerome wiped his hands on his bib and pulled a pen and small notepad from his breast pocket. He tossed them in front of Gabe. “How about making a list of these friends of yours.”

  “They’re not friends.” Gabe held the man’s gaze. “I won’t tolerate anyone hurting animals.” Not anymore. He wanted the lawman to understand that. Jerome slowly dipped his chin. Clicking the top of the pen, Gabe wrote two lists. He hesitated, but stopped before adding his uncle’s name. “Here are the names I can remember who are still local. And the second column is property that was used for fights.”

  Jerome flipped the pad closed and slid it back into his pocket. “I wish I’d been working the case back then. I seem to have had more luck loosening your lips than my predecessor. And without any effort on my part.”

  Gabe wished that, too. Officer Rogan had seemed like most cops to Gabe. Lazy, interested in earning his pension and not much else. When his bullying tactics on a seventeen-year-old hadn’t worked, he’d seemingly dropped the case and moved on. Gabe had probably been seeing the man through a young punk’s eyes. But a better cop could have saved those dogs where Gabe hadn’t.

  Gabe stood and started to the door before his conscience caught up with him. He could hear Marla’s voice in his head, like one of those damned angels to his own devil, telling him to play nice. His shoulders rode up to his ears, but he turned and nodded at the cop. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”

  Jerome grunted, lips pursed, and turned back to his meal.

  Okay, it wasn’t full-on brotherly love, but the grunt hadn’t sounded unfriendly. Maybe being considerate once in a while served a purpose.

  And some people deserved consideration, even if it served no purpose. If he could thank a cop, he could damn sure say he was sorry to Marla. Again. He owed her nothing less. And if she didn’t slam the door in his face, perhaps it was time he admitted his feelings about their relationship had changed. Grown. She was entitled to his honesty, as well.

  Best-case and worst-case scenarios rolled through his head. He liked the vision of her opening the door in those tiny red shorts, falling into his arms when he laid it out. But he couldn’t shake the flip image. Marla would never be cruel. But if she looked at him in surprise, patted his arm, and tried to let him down easy because she’d thought of him as nothing more than a boytoy, well, that would hurt.

  But his father had taught Gabe a lesson, albeit unwittingly. It was one he tried to live by. One he’d learned too late. A man had to step up and do the right thing, no matter the cost.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marla sniffled into a tissue and dabbed her eyes. Why did this part always get her? She turned the page, careful of the worn paper in her well-loved Lord of the Rings special-edition hardcover.

  Maddie stretched out on the chaise section of the sofa and sighed. Hoover picked his way across Marla’s lap and tried to find his own spot next to the poodle. Mad shifted position and blocked him out, leaving Hoov whining softly.

  Marla balanced the book on the armrest of the sofa and picked Hoov up with her free hand. She cuddled him to her chest. “Don’t worry about it. She’ll come around.” Maybe. Or maybe Hoover’s affection was doomed to go unrequited, like Eowyn’s love for Aragorn. She turned back to her book. Foolish Eowyn. Although it all worked out for her in the end.

  Her doorbell chimed. Marla frowned, glancing from her book to the entry and back. Carefully laying a bookmark in her spot, she set the book down on her end table and rolled to her feet, keeping Hoov tight to her chest. Maddie trotted ahead and sat in front of the door like a guard, patiently waiting for Marla to swing it open.

  “Dad.” Marla rocked back onto her bare heels. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can’t a father visit his only daughter?” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.” Stepping to the side, she shook her head. “Sorry. How was the drive?”

  “Fine.” Her dad stepped through and slipped out of his tailored coat. He held it out to her and froze. “Good God, what is that?”

  She followed his gaze and frowned. “This is my new dog, Hoover.”

  “That’s a dog?” He folded his arms, the lines of his three-piece suit creasing with precision. “It looks like an overgrown rat with alopecia.”

  Maddie gave a low growl. Marla patted her head, walked past her dad, and closed the door, a tad bit harder than necessary. “He is a Mexican hairless and a fine specimen of his species.”

  “What happened to its nose?”

  “Dad, why are you here? It can’t be to insult my dogs.” She padded back into her living room and settled on the edge of the sofa. Maddie hopped up beside her. Marla breathed in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, trying to find calm.

  He perched on the arm of the recliner across from her. “You hardly ever return my calls. I know how much you wanted that board position. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  He thought it meant a lot to her, and yet had chosen someone else. She stared at the large window that looked into her backyard. Maybe she was being unfair. He had driven all the way out here to check on her after all. “I’m fine. I only offered up my services because I thought you were in a bind. Who did you get to fill the spot?”

  “Steven.”

  “Steven Parker? My financial planner?” He hadn’t mentioned anything about it the last time they’d
had dinner together.

  Her dad shrugged. “He’s been with our family for a while. He’s smart. Why not?”

  Her chest ached. “I’ve been with our family longer. I’m smart.”

  He pressed his lips into a hard line. “Marla, let’s not do this now. You’re plenty smart, in your own way. But Steven is a man of business. He had board experience. He was the better choice.”

  “Of course.” Hoov whined, and Marla loosened her grip. Pounding sounded at her front door, and she shot to her feet. If it was a vacuum salesman, she’d buy five. Anything so she wouldn’t have to be alone with her dad.

  Hoover’s claws dug into her stomach as he struggled to get down. She released him, and he and Maddie shot toward the front door. The person behind it pounded again.

  “Excuse me,” she said to her dad and fled in her dogs’ wake. She flung open the door, her heart skipping at the sight of Gabe’s tall frame. Before she remembered she was ticked off at him. The glower on his face indicated she was probably still on his shit list, too.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “Hello.”

  Hoover flew out the door and leapt at Gabe. The dog bounced off his shins and tried again. Gabe picked him up and scratched his chin. “You’re still not checking who’s at the door.” His nostrils flared. “Are you asking for a home invasion? There are basic, commonsense safety skills—”

  “Is there something I can help you with, or are you merely here to criticize my door-opening technique?” She really didn’t need this right now. Between her father and Gabe, she wasn’t sure whom she wanted to see less.

  He scraped a hand through his dark hair and his shirt pulled tight across his pecs.

  The tips of her breasts tingled. Okay, Gabe was eye candy; there was no denying that. It was never a hardship to see him. If only he didn’t have to open his mouth.

  “The lecture can wait.” He stepped forward. “I…wait, were you crying?”