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“You didn’t tell me he’s FBI.” Colton’s gaze was hard, flitting to the bartender as he poured my whiskey. “Same for me, Johnny, but make it a double.”

I froze mid-breath, surprised by both the drink request and that he was on a first-name basis with the rugged bartender with a handlebar mustache.

“I need a drink for this conversation. Or any conversation with you, Hadley,” Colton said by explanation of my wide eyes.

I shrugged. “I don’t disagree. But booze won’t change my answers to whatever questions you have.”

“Dante,” he pressed as he took his drink.

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Must I be plagued to be in his presence and speak about him when I’m blessed enough to be without him?”

Colton leaned against the bar, taking a long drink of his whiskey. “He’s FBI,” he repeated, not quite a question, yet not quite a statement.

“If that’s what his badge says.” I dragged my finger along a groove in the bar top. I wasn’t going to entirely cover for Dante, but I wasn’t going to rat him out either. Honor amongst thieves and all that.

“I checked with his field office, in New Haven.”

“I’m sure you did.” Colton didn’t strike me as someone to be easily fooled by an almost perfect fake badge, his estimation of Dante presumably colored by his familiarity with me.

I was also sure Dante had covered his tracks well enough for a routine background check. But there were only so many tricks you could pull to impersonate a federal agent, what with all the technology of the past few years.

“He does not look or act like a federal agent,” Colton continued.

“He doesn’t,” I agreed.

Colton’s jaw ticked, an indication that he was getting annoyed at my responses. Maybe the more I annoyed him, the more likely he was to give up on me.

“And it’s highly unusual for Feds to care about an animal attack,” he added.

“I wouldn’t know because I’m not a Fed,” I told him honestly.

“How did you find yourself tangled up with Dante?” Colton was sick of beating around the bush. It was obvious Dante’s familiarity with who I was now was eating away at him. It was eating away at me too, especially with Dante’s newfound concern for my well-being. I could not handle that.

“I ask myself that every day.” I ran my finger around the rim of my glass.

“You cannot do this, Hadley,” Colton huffed out. “Come into town with a man like Dante on your heels, obviously more to that story, having absolutely no loyalty to the people who used to be your family.”

My head snapped back to him, ire boiling past my earlier faint amusement. “My family was brutally murdered in front of me, if you’ll remember.”

His eyes flared. “I remember. Not all of your family, though, Hadley. My parents took you in like you were their own. They were your family. I was your family.”

I gulped down what remained of my drink, slamming the glass down hard enough to create a loud bang. Propelling my legs off the stool, I stood to face Colton.

“Were you, Colton? Because what I remember isn’t loyalty. It’s you telling a therapist I was delusional. Wondering out loud if committing me was the best option.” I picked up my empty glass, clutching it tightly, wishing I could throw it at something. “So sorry if I haven’t conveniently forgotten about that and no longer view you as the golden boy everyone else does.”

I was yelling. People were looking. Staying under the radar wasn’t going well.

Colton’s mouth thinned, but I didn’t miss the flicker of shame in his baby blues. I regretted hurling that memory at him. Not because I cared about his dignity but because it made me look weak. Made it look like I’d lugged it around all these years.

“Haddie, I was worried about you. You were talking about⁠—”

“Hadley.” I held up my hand. “Worry about me all you want. Just do it from a great fucking distance. I’m doing just fine.”

He stood his ground. “Your black eye would beg to differ.”

I smiled. “I can fight my own battles, Colton. And I don’t mind if my face gets a little wrecked doing it.”

Then I stomped off.