“I’m really sorry for worrying you,” I said.
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.
“Will you forgive me?”
She took a deep breath, and I frowned.
“Maisie?”
“Give me a minute,” she snapped. “I’m trying to decide if I’m going to forgive you or put laxatives in your beer.”
“If he shits himself, you’ll be the one cleanin’ him up, Sunshine,” Hatch pointed out.
She let out a frustrated squeal and stormed out of the room.
“Give her a few minutes, she’ll calm down,” Hatch said. “You need anything?”
Before I could respond, Maisie returned and jabbed her finger toward me. “If you ever do anything like that again, I will break your other leg. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, sweetheart, I understand. I’m sorry I worried you.”
She settled her hands on her hips. “God, I’m so mad I could slap you upside the head. You’re lucky your face is pretty.”
“Hey now,” Hatch growled.
I laughed. “I won’t do it again, Maisie. Promise.”
“You better not.” She let out a huff. “How’s Waverly?”
“She’s good. Everything’s good.”
Maisie nodded. “You didn’t scare her away, right?”
“No, she’s great.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, but Hatch wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. “I can attest that Waverly’s good, Razor’s good, they’re both good, Sunshine.”
“Okay, okay.” She leaned into him, and all seemed to come right in her world. “Is anyone hungry?”
“I could eat,” Hatch said.
“Me too,” I concurred.
Once Maisie seemed happy in her little world, she went about getting ready to feed it, and while shedid that, Hatch grabbed us each a beer.
* * *
Waverly
Two nights later, I climbed into bed, my mind still spinning after getting off the phone with the Denver District Attorney. He’d called me with the news that ‘Cupid’ had a trial date, and that Fisk had been mutilated. Of course, I’d rather ungraciously informed him the information was too little too late. I mean, Fisk had been emasculated weeks ago, and Cupid’s arrest happened years ago. What happened to a speedy trial? In my opinion, this bastard should have been on the phone with me a hell of a lot sooner than two days ago.
In the end, his apologies fell on deaf ears because I was just over all of it, but I gave him a hollow thank you and ended the call. Now, I was sitting in bed, rehashing the conversation and wishing I wasn’t alone.
It didn’t matter that Cupid was in jail. I still didn’t feel safe.
I’m not sure how long I stared at my phone charging on my nightstand, but after the third time the wind slammed a tree branch into the side of my house, I grabbed it and made the dumbest call ever.
“Hello?”
