“You listen to me, Savannah Graham,” I said. “If I have to come to New York and drag you home for Autumn’s wedding, I will. You know I mean that.” How could she even consider not being here for Autumn? “You’ve had the date for almost a year now. That was plenty of time to work it into your busy schedule.”
Autumn put her hand on my arm, shaking her head, but I didn’t care if I was upsetting Savannah. I was the maid of honor, but Savannah was Autumn’s only bridesmaid. She damn well was going to be here. She’d promised.
Someone banged on the door in whatever room Savannah had gone to, and we heard muffled voices. She must have been holding her hand over the phone. Even though the man’s voice was muted and we couldn’t understand the words, he sounded angry.
“Listen,” Savannah said, coming back on the phone. “I have to go. I’ll call you soon.”
“Savannah…” She was gone.
Autumn stared at the phone, a frown on her face. “Something’s not right.”
“Yeah, she’s definitely not the Savannah we know and love. At least we’ll be able to see for ourselves how she is when she gets here.”
“I just wish we knew what was going on with her,” Autumn said, glancing up at me with worry in her eyes.
So did I.
38
~ Dylan ~
Moody was late, of course. “You got those restraining orders ready for me to sign?” I asked Gene while we waited for my captain to show his face.
He handed me a manila folder. “Here you go. I hope he doesn’t decide to shoot us both.”
“A distinct possibility.” I laughed when Gene paled. “Good thing I’m a faster draw, huh?” I wouldn’t put it past Moody to make some dumbass move, so my gun was sitting on my lap, hidden by my desk.
“Here he comes,” I said at hearing Moody’s voice down the hallway. I glanced at my watch. “Ten minutes late. The man knows how to push my buttons.”
Gene dragged his chair over to the wall. “I’m going to sit over here where I can keep an eye on him.”
“Have a seat, Mr. Moody,” I said when the man paused in the doorway. He eyed Gene for a few seconds, then sauntered to the chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He had to suspect that at the very least he was in trouble, so the smirk on his face told me he thought there was nothing I could do to him. He was about to learn differently.
“Put your gun and badge on my desk, Mr. Moody.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gene tense. I was twitchy myself, having no clue how Moody would react to that, but I wanted his gun off his person ASAP.
Moody narrowed his eyes. “The fuck’s going on here?”
Since I was about to fire him, I let his language go without comment. “Your gun and badge, please.” My hand was on my own weapon, my finger on the trigger. I wasn’t taking any chances with the fool. Seconds ticked by as Moody stared hard at me, probably debating whether or not he could get away with shooting me.
“So I’m suspended? The fuck I do now?”
“We’ll discuss it as soon as you turn over your weapon and badge.”
Never taking his eyes—brimming with hatred—off me, he put his hand on his holster. I was pretty sure Gene was holding his breath along with me. The next few moments were like a movie playing in slow motion. Moody unsnapped his holster, put his hand on the barrel of his gun, then paused. I didn’t want to shoot a soon-to-be ex-cop in my office, but I would if I had to. I didn’t so much as blink as I held Moody’s stare.
Gene had his hand in his coat pocket, and I was certain his finger was on the trigger of his gun. That made three of us ready to perform our own rendition of the O.K. Corral. I let my eyes grow cold, let Moody see that I dared him to try to pull a stupid stunt. When the man’s gaze flicked away, I relaxed…a little.
“This is bullshit.” Moody slammed his gun down on my desk, followed by his badge.
“Now the throwaway you have in your boot. Put it on the desk, too.” I was guessing, but my hunch was confirmed when he pressed his lips together.
“That’s my personal gun.”
“And against regulations for you to be carrying on the job. You’ll get it back when we’re done.” Unfortunately I didn’t have grounds to confiscate it or I would. He reached down, and I tensed again. Apparently he decided not to be stupid because he put the .38 on my desk, alongside his department-issued weapon.
I opened my desk drawer and put both guns and the badge in it. No reason to honey my way up to it, so I just spit it out. “Mr. Moody, you’re fired.” I’d been waiting to say those words since the night I’d caught him sitting at my desk, playing poker and drinking.
He shot up out of his chair. “The hell you say. We’ll just see about that.” He took out his phone and punched the screen, then put it to his ear.
