Page 55 of Out Of A Fix

More people showed up, which was surprising for a Monday. The following day was a federal holiday, so that would have made more sense, but it felt like a lot of company for late morning on the first day of the week. Although, everyone had been quite friendly at the neighborhood yard sale, so perhaps this kind of spontaneous gathering happened here often. Being from Chicago, it was not at all normal for me. Since the kids were having fun, interacting with everyone—Griff, especially, had drawn quite a crowd as he related the story of what happened with Wilson—when the time came to take Wink to the vet, I took him myself.

My room had a sliding glass door that led onto the back deck, so I tucked Wink inside of my well-worn, sherpa-lined leather jacket, and went out the back. As the bodyguard, should I have left the family alone? In their own home, with a good forty people in the house, I wasn’t too worried. Anyone the cartel would send wouldn’t care if the killing was done loudly, publicly, but they weren’t stupid either. Witnesses were one thing, but pushing your way into a crowded house with people who would rise up and get you arrested was another thing entirely.

At the vet, I bought Wink a nice carrier, since they hadn’t had one at the grocery store the day we found him. I was surprised he was the picture of health except for worms, which were easily dealt with. They estimated he was no more than a month old, so one dose was going to take care of his problem.

“Wink is the cutest name,” the vet tech confirmed.

“It suits him, don’t you think?”

She smiled and nodded, and when he winked at her, she said he was flirting.

“I suspect he is,” I said with a grin.

Once I was done, I was going to go straight home, but I got a call from Chief Higheagle in Newcastle, who asked when it would be possible for me to drive over and sign the statement I’d given her about what happened with Griff and Wilson. Since I was out and on the road already, I headed over. She appreciated my making the time and enjoyed meeting Wink. Everyone in the office did. Small towns—you had to love them.

When I got home, I went in through the garage, put Wink down and shooed him inside, then found a shelf in the garage for the carrier. When I turned to head into the house, Luke was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, staring at me.

“Where were you?”

I squinted at him. “I took the cat to his vet appointment. I texted the kids on our group chat, so they all knew where I was.”

He cleared his throat. “I would like to be added to the…chat.”

“Not a problem,” I assured him, taking a step closer, needing him to move so I could go into the mudroom. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I just—Tatum got freaked out when she couldn’t find you.”

“Not to call that statement into question, but as I said, I texted, so I doubt she thought I was in the house,” I replied, studying him. “Something else happen?”

“I meant to say, after she got upset—about what, I don’t know—I think she was sad you weren’t here.”

“But you’re here.”

Frustrated huff of air. “But that’s not good enough.”

“It is,” I told him. “You’re hanging back.”

“Pardon?”

Quick inhale. “You want to grab them and squeeze the crap outta them, but you’re not. How come?”

“Do you always say whatever pops into your brain?”

“No,” I contended. “I breathe because I’m big enough to hurt people if I don’t.”

It was interesting the way he looked me up and down then, and after what seemed like a moment too long, his eyes returned to my face. “Yeah. That’s why I was concerned when I walked in. I was afraid I couldn’t take you.”

I smiled at him. “You’d have been right.”

He scoffed. “Sure of yourself, are you?”

“Yes. Very.” I pointed at myself. “Fixer.”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh.

“So answer the question—why aren’t you squeezing the stuffing out of your kids?”

“What?”