Shane stood and grabbed the guy’s other arm as he shared a look with his brother. “Yeah, we all need some fresh air.” He set the burner phone on the bar.
Then he and Ben marched the scumbag around the bar toward the back door leading to the alley behind Cocktails and Chicken Strips—the official name of the dive bar, though almost no one ever used it. The tall waitress—better known as Charlieto her friends at Watchdog, where she worked as a bodyguard—was already on her way over to the confused woman to let her know she’d narrowly missed being roofied. She’d also ask her if she wanted to press charges once the cops got there.
The tainted glass and drink, plus the footage on Shane’s burner phone of the guy dropping the drug into the Cosmo, would be turned over to Officers Sylvie Hoff and Carla DeVivo along with testimony from Jimmy. The bartender had become suspicious of the guy who only paid in cash, and whose last date was strangely falling-down drunk after a single drink. She’d been rescued by Jimmy, who’d sent her home in a rideshare (she’d called the next day to thank him and confirm that she’d been drugged) but the perp slipped away and the glass had already been rinsed.
After that, Jimmy had called his buddy, Ben. Mountain Division set up a rotating sting every night for a week before the idiot came back. This time, they had him dead to rights and he’d be on his way downtown in ten minutes.
Shane and Ben intended to use that ten minutes to show the son of a bitch the full error of his ways.
By the time Sylvie and Carla pulled up, Bill Ferguson—the name Shane read on the guy’s driver’s license—looked like he’d fallen down three flights of stairs face-first. He might have been foolish enough to return to the same bar, but he wasn’t stupid enough to admit to the true reason for his broken nose and bruised ribs. He didn’t have a death wish, after all.
Ben and Shanesat across from each other at an all-night diner on the outskirts of Longmont. Ben insisted on buying Shane midnight breakfast for his help with Ferguson. Thelifelong friends sat in comfortable silence, sipping coffee as they waited for the server to bring their meals. That hadn’t been the case when Shane returned to Lyons, Colorado after he left the Navy. Ben was already out of the military and home, renovating the Victorian house that had been practically falling down when they were younger. Their other friends—Elias Hunt, Waylon Ramsey, Gabe O’Neal, and Jon “Bear” Behr—weren’t far behind, though it would take Bear a couple more years to come to terms with his ghosts and return to Colorado.
So, Ben and Shane had had time to reconnect one on one before then. Which was not pleasant for Shane, considering the reasons he’d left town at eighteen. Ben was the only person—besides Shane and April—who knew the full truth about their early relationship.
Much to Shane’s embarrassment and shame.
Ben wasn’t the type to hold a grudge against a friend—unless that friend had knowingly and willfully fucked up. Or so Shane had thought. Ben and Shane had had reason to see each other a few times since high school—once, to help Waylon out of a dark place. Shane had barely been able to look Ben in the eye the whole time, though Ben gave no outward sign of anger or judgment toward his old friend. Shane had assumed he’d put their differences aside only for Waylon’s sake. So, he'd avoided Ben after coming home, until one day the big man showed up at his doorstep with a case of the cheap, crappy beer they’d guzzled by the gallon at backwoods bonfires when they were teenagers.
They drank to their military service. To the friend they’d lost to that service. To the memories they’d made back when they were young and naive, believing they were bulletproof. And, they drank to their unbreakable friendship.
Neither man ever brought up April.
Ben set his coffee down and cleared his throat, bringing Shane back to the present. “Thanks again, Shane. I wish I could?—”
Shane held his hand up, knowing where Ben was going. “Don’t even think about saying you wish you could pay me. I’d do this no matter what. If you so much as tried to give me a dime, I’d refuse.”
Ben shook his head. “But it’s taking time out of your life when you could be off doing other things.”
“Yeah, what life? Not like I’m gonna be hanging out with Elias and Waylon at Cocks and Strippers, even if they weren’t married now. Truth is, it never was really my scene.”
Ben grunted. “Mine, neither. After tonight, even less.”
Shane grinned. “Not even seeing Charlie made it good, huh? I’m surprised she’s not here eating with us.”
Ben turned a damning shade of red, all the way up to his ears, confirming what all of Ben’s friends already suspected—their leader had the hots for Charlene King.
Shane leaned in conspiratorially. “I can put in a good word for you with her. I see her all the time at work and I’ve only known her for, oh,” he pretended to check his watch, “the better part of a decade.” He was pretty sure Charlie felt the same way about Ben. Shane had known “King Charlamagne” since they served together as Swicks, right up until their honorable discharges, so he could read her well. Shane had caught her more than once checking out his friend and there was definitely interest there.
Ben waved him off with a smile as the waitress set their plates down and they tucked into their food.
“Seriously, Moose,” Shane pressed. “How long have you two been dancing around each other?”
“What about you and April?” Ben said, taking Shane completely off-guard, enough that he almost choked on his coffee.
“Whataboutus?”
“Things haven’t been the same since…” Ben trailed off.
“The drive-by on Riversong? I know.”
“It’s been a year and a half, Shane. The hit wasn’t directed at them. Do you know why they circled the wagons after?”
Shane knew what Ben was really asking—did he know why April had gone from finally beginning to accept Shane’s advances, to pushing him away. It went beyond her initial snarkiness—which Shane one hundred percent deserved—to not even responding with snark of her own. Whenever everyone got together, she avoided talking to him, and kept her son, Kevin from talking to him as well. That killed—Kevin was an awesome little guy, even if he was a handful.
“I wish I knew, Ben. They acted like the hit was personal, which, sure, who wouldn’t? But you’d think they’d relax once they knew it had nothing to do with them.”
“You think they’re jumpy because of Sonny’s past?” Ben asked.
