Chapter Ten
Dale woke to the kindof quiet that comes after you’ve said the wrong thing and the house, and everyone in it was pretending they didn’t hear it.
His mouth tasted like he’d chewed the cork on a cheap and crappy bottle of red wine.The empty liquor bottle he’d left on the kitchen bench agreed with him from thirty feet away.He didn’t drink whiskey.Not like that.
Last night he’d made an exception.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling until the headache settled into a steady drum he could ignore, and his stomach stopped rolling within him.Images lined up within his mind whether he wanted them or not—conference room, Dev on the screen, Bateman’s pen, Ty’s face when Dale had decided to be a prick and hit him while they were both still reeling from Oren’s omission.You going to pull the trigger, or stand there and think?What the fuck had he been thinking?
“Dale,” a voice called from the kitchen.“Get your ass out here.I brought coffee and something that has a metric shit ton of sugar on it, something I would not normally be allowed to consume, but Sam’s not here to stop me so let’s go crazy!And if you are not out here in the next sixty seconds, I am gonna down both of them, because I never get this shit at home.”
Sheriff Nick Jones was in his house.And he’d brought breakfast apparently.Fucking Bravo just inviting themselves over.It was still fucking dark outside, too, so the bastard had to have gotten up super early to make this little house call.
Dale pushed up, found boxers on the floor, and dragged them on.He didn’t bother with a shirt.The mirror over the dresser was helpful enough to be cruel.He looked like he’d been up all night punching a problem and losing on points.
He walked out to the kitchen.Sheriff Nick stood like he owned the room, which was talent more than arrogance.A to-go carrier of coffees sat on the island, a grease-spotted paper bag beside it.Nick took one look at Dale and clicked his tongue.
“Christ, son.You get in a fight with a distillery?”
“Distillery started it,” Dale said, voice rough.
Nick handed him coffee.“Don’t be cute.Drink.”
Dale drank.Heat hit first, then the bitterness, then the way the caffeine went hunting the fog allowed him to think a little better.He set the cup down and eyed the bag.
“Eat,” Nick said, already pulling out a pastry the size of a fist.“You’re not going to think your way out of this on an empty stomach.”
Dale broke his pastry in half and took a bite.Butter, sugar, a lemon note.It sat right.He waited for the lecture and tried not to brace for it like a hit.
Nick leaned his hip to the counter, arms folded.“I heard about your night.”
“From who?”
“Bateman,” Nick said.“I can do concern without stepping on his chain of command.I’m here as the man who’s stood where you’re standing and made a mess with his mouth.”
Dale huffed.“Yeah, my mouth can have a mind of its own.Do you ever grow out of saying dumb shit that hurts the ones we love?”
“Nope.”Nick took a massive bite of his pastry, groaning in apparent food bliss, before he continued.“You want triad advice, or you want to keep pretending you can stiff-arm the two men you love into safety?”
Dale met his eyes because that was the thing about Nick—he’d wait you out until you did.“I’ll take Advice for two hundred, please, Alex.”
“Good choice.”Nick finished the pastry then clapped the sugar from his fingers.“Your job isn’t to carry whatever is concerning themforthem—but to carry itwiththem.You’re the one who holds steady and does not let your men hide what they need.When it gets rough, you hold at the line of departure, Ricoh.You don’t step off till your team’s ready.”
“I’m trying,” Dale said.
“You’re growling,” Nick corrected.“And that will give you a completely different outcome.”
Dale stared at the coffee lid, turning the cup until the seam found his thumb.“I told Oren I needed to hear the bad the second it broke.I make no apologies for that.I cannot step in front of them if I do not know they are in someone’s crosshairs.”
“Fair.”Nick nodded, leaning back against the counter behind him, and crossing his arms over his chest.“I get that.”
