Page 33 of Nailed

I shrugged. “The firehouse isn't the worst project we've ever worked on.”

“That’s it?” she nudged me with her elbow. “That's all you're going to give me?”

“What else is there to give?” I asked.

“Oh, Brock,” she sighed and the way she said my name like that sent my lips straight for another sip. “Fine. You wanted to tell me about the permits?”

Yes, that I could do.

“Given the pushback coming from some of the community members, I think it's likely someone issued a formal challenge to the building's zoning or historical status," I said. “Which means there's likely a technicality the DOB overlooked and some bastard exploited that.”

Lauren scowled. “Callum told you about the meeting then, I assume.”

“Yes.” The mob chaos. The bucket of rotten vegetable skins. My hand tightened on the mug.

“Is this gonna be a problem?” she asked. “Is there some way I can appeal against this?”

“We can figure it out,” I told her. “I'd put money on the ringleader being Tim Chalmers.”

“Urgh. Good old Neighbor Tim.” Lauren shuddered in disgust.

“I see you've made his acquaintance," I guessed, taking a seat on the pallet.

“I've had the displeasure,” she said. Then she giggled. “But I did have the pleasure of seeing Rafe scaring the shit out of him when he tried to intimidate me. It was a sight to behold.”

“Right.” I downed the rest of the drink. Which wasn't perhaps the best idea because I was already feeling a little buzzed.

Empty stomach, I reminded myself. That's it. That's definitely the reason you feel sick.

Lauren took a step toward me, a look of curiosity on her face. “You don't like him very much, do you?”

“Never said that.”

“You never say much at all but you say enough,” she shot back.

And to that I really could say nothing.

“Brock, why did you warn me to stay away from him last time?” she asked. “You were pretty insistent on it, too. You can't really say something like that and not tell me the reason why.”

I wished she would stop looking at me like that. Officer Thorne could grill me all day about Merrick's behavior and I refused to crack. But now? All Lauren had to do was ask and I was singing like a canary.

It's the tequila, I thought logically. It doesn't like you as much as you like it.

“He's trouble, okay?” I said bluntly. “I don't know how much about his past you know—”

“Nothing, really,” she said quickly.

“Then maybe you should ask him,” I replied.

“Please, Brock?” she begged.

I sucked in a breath, then sighed. This goddamn woman.

“He has a bit of a rough past,” I started.

“How rough?” she asked.

“Well, he's currently out on parole.”