And while the constant questions about Sable make me want to bash my head against the counter, I get it. I did what I needed to do. I made a statement.
Now I get to live with the consequences of opening my life up to people who know too much already. Nosy as hell, sure. But most of them are genuinely happy for me.
“Hex, my man, didn’t think I’d live to see the day,” Gus said last night, chuckling over his beer. “She’s a looker, that one.”
Lisa—bakery downtown Lisa, the one who keeps her pink nails pristine and pretends she’s not an espresso martini fiend—had raised her glass with a wink. “She seems like the kind of woman who won’t put up with your grumpy ass.”
I smiled back without word.
Because these are the same people I’ve done things for. Things we don’t say out loud.
Gus? Sweet old man now, sure. But back when his daughter’s ex wouldn’t stop showing up at her job, it was me who cornered him in a gas station parking lot and shattered his kneecap with a crowbar. No cops. No charges. Just a whispered promise: You come near her again, I fuck up the other one.
Lisa? She used to be married to a guy who dipped into her business funds and threatened to take everything. One night, he ended up in the ER with a busted orbital and a broken wrist. The story was he got jumped outside a grocery store.
I was the jump.
Even Frank—the younger guy sitting at the end of the bar who has a NASCAR shirt for every day of the week and stocks shelves at the corner store—once caught me in the middle of a Friday night shift, whispering about someone who’d been blackmailing his sister with a video she didn’t know they took of her.
I didn’t ask questions. I just made sure the video disappeared. And the man who took it left town with a permanent limp and three fractured ribs.
So yeah. These people? They smile when they see me. They clap me on the back, and I let them talk about love like it’s something soft and redeeming.
But I know better.
I’m not just the guy behind the bar. I’m the shadow they send their messes to.
And sometimes, I worry they like me more for it.
Even JT smirked when the topic of Sable came up, shaking his head with that familiar look that said I’d gone too far to save.
I could put up with it.
Because, for the first time in a long time, I have somethinggoodworth talking about.
Will drops onto the stool beside me, drumming his fingers on the bar top. “JT’s got some updates.”
I glance over at my younger brother, who’s perched on the opposite side of the bar closest to the door, scrolling through something on his phone. I have no doubt he’s got his eyes peeled in case Ashley enters.
“Anything interesting?”
“Just Bat Shit out there.” JT hikes a thumb toward the door and blows out a low whistle.
He shifts his focus back to the screen. “They know he’s missing. Only whispers. No names. No connections.” Then he glances up. “You’re in the clear.”
Good. Exactly how we planned it.
“Anyone sniffing around?” I ask.
JT hesitates for half a second, then nods. “Had a couple of Ned’s boys swing through earlier. Didn’t stay long. Just a beer and a little too much interest in the place, if you ask me. Didn’t say much, but they were watching. Not the kind of casual that feels natural.”
I exhale through my nose. “Ned himself?”
He shrugs, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. “Not yet. But when his bitch boys show up, it usually means he’s not far behind.”
I lean back, jaw clenched so tight it clicks. Ned Stauder doesn’t lose sleep over loose ends. He cuts them off before they fray. If this guy I killed was part of his portfolio, he’s already clawing through every missing dollar, hunting whoever made it vanish like blood in the water.
JT taps his phone once, screen going dark. “I’ll keep my ears open.”
