Armie flexed his shoulders. “I disliked the pricks soon as I saw them, and that one bozo did pull a knife on me, so I’m happy to go with your instincts.”
“Appreciate it.” Denver finished off his cupcake in one big bite. He washed it down with the last of his coffee. “When I get more from Cherry, I’ll update you.” He turned to Cannon. “Until then, you should know that I’m going to stick around as much as I can.”
Not that long ago, Cannon had objected to Denver’s pursuit of Cherry. Denver followed his reasoning: Cherry was roommates with Merissa and the idea of anyone making a booty call to his sister’s house didn’t sit right with him. What Cannon thought about it no longer mattered, though.
He wouldn’t leave Cherry alone, sick and vulnerable.
“Not a bad idea,” Cannon said, surprising him. “Anyone can see you’re invested beyond a quick lay.”
True. There wasn’t anything at all he wanted to be “quick” with Cherry. “I’ll be here whenever I’m free. It’s just that—”
“Free time is scarce these days, I know.” Cannon clapped him on the shoulder. “Try not to sweat it too much. Rissy has a good security system but I’ll explain things to her, too. She’s smart, so she’ll be careful. And I’ll be in town for a stretch, so someone will always be around.”
Watching Cannon, Denver said, “Both girls have a list of phone numbers.” He understood it now, but it still bugged him.
“Rissy has always agreed to carry them, but I made sure Cherry did the same.” Cannon obviously thought nothing of it. “In a lot of ways, Rissy accepts all of you as family.”
Armie seemed to choke a little on that.
“She and I both trust you. All of you. I know even when I’m not around, she has backup. That’s important. Not that I expect trouble, but you never know.”
All of the rationalizations helped—and yet they didn’t. A sense of danger kept Denver on edge.
It was too personal for him to tell the others, but he knew by Cherry’s initial reaction that she’d thought him somehow allied with those creeps. She’d pegged him as using her in some way—but how?
Knowing there was nothing else he could do right now, Denver put his coffee cup in the dishwasher and left with Armie. He knew he’d feel better if he could trust Cherry, but on a gut level he was sure the girl had secrets. How long would she hold out on him?
What if she never opened up?
It was his biggest gripe, the main reason he’d tried to steer clear of her.
He was damn near obsessed—how had Armie put it? Ape-shit with wanting her—and she wouldn’t commit 100 percent.
Somehow he’d have to work through that, wear her down, and win her over. He wanted Cherry.
But only if he could have every part of her, including her deepest, darkest secrets.
* * *
LEESE ACCEPTED THE shot glass and tossed back the contents. It sent a fiery burn down his throat that pooled in his gut. He screwed his eyes shut, clamped his teeth together and let his breath out in a hiss.
Carver laughed. “A man who knows how to drink. Hell yeah.”
Then he threw back his own shot of whiskey.
As the liquor flowed through Leese’s blood, the world tilted, went fuzzy, then righted itself again. He knew he’d already drunk too much. But Carver, Mitty and Gene were so admiring, like his own personal fan club, he wasn’t ready to call it a night.
They sat on the open hatch to Mitty’s truck bed beneath a night sky fat with black clouds that concealed even a hint of the moon. A light glowed and he turned his head to see Gene lighting up. A red sheen covered his face as he inhaled—and then the sickeningly sweet smell hit Leese.
“Want a hit?” Gene offered, holding the joint out to him.
“No thanks.” He propped himself against the truck.
Mitty laughed. “The little fighter is afraid to take a toke?”
“Afraid? No.” He wasn’t afraid of jack-shit. “Just not my thing.”
Gene passed it to Carver, who closed his eyes as he sucked it in and held it.
Smoke hung in the thick, humid air, turning Leese’s stomach. It had to be late. Or early. Whatever. He looked around at the nearly deserted streets. The last thing he needed was for a cop to show up. “I should get going.”
As he exhaled Carver asked, “Why the sudden rush?”
Tension knotted up his neck; Leese clutched his stomach to keep it from pitching. Damn. He’d gotten drunk plenty of times in his life, but it never made him feel like this. He took a step away from the truck, and almost fell to his knees.