Chapter 4

4

The bangingon my apartment door scared the living shit out of me. That was my only excuse for unlocking my door without looking to see who it was first. I had no sooner turned the bolt when my door opened, and I had no choice but to step back or get bowled over.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Garrett roared.

In hindsight, his opening was the best thing that could’ve happened. It meant that I was immediately pissed off instead of absolutely heartbroken. It meant that my temper flared instead of sending me crumbling to my knees seeing Garrett up close for the first time in many, many years. The rehab center didn’t count; I’d made sure I kept my eyes from drifting anywhere near his beautiful face. It meant that I was fighting mad instead of a babbling mess.

“No, but you have, coming into my home speaking to me like that,” I returned.

Garrett slammed the door shut and his icy cold stare held mine.

“Stand down.”

His demand was met with confusion but no less anger when I shouted back, “You don’t get to come into my house and tell me what to do, Garrett.”

“What are you, ten, Mellie Kate?”

His reversion to my childhood nickname was like a dagger.

A sharp pain stabbed through me leaving me a bloody mess.

“Get out!”

“No. Not until you promise me you’ll stand down.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I did know I didn’t owe him a damn thing.

“Get out!”

“Mellie—”

“I don’t know why you’re here and honestly, I don’t care. You just need to leave.”

“You’re looking into Analise’s death,” Garratt spat the accusation.

And that was when my anger took hold and heat crept up my chest until my cheeks felt like they were burning.

“My sister is none of your business,” I returned with the same vigor.

“You need to stand down,” he repeated.

“I’m sorry, maybe all those years in warzones have damaged your hearing.” My snide remark was met with narrowed eyes. But now that I was on a tear all sense of common decency flew out the window. “My life, my sister, my family is not your concern, Garrett. You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with them when you left me and later you made it abundantly clear you wanted nothing to do with me. Actually…” I paused to call up the memory. “Your exact words were, ‘You’re dead to me.’”

“Melissa,” he tried again.

“Fuck you, Garrett. You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what? Look after you. Warn you you’re making a mistake by putting yourself in danger?”

Look after me?

“That’s a joke, right?”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?”

No, he looked like he was deadly serious, which further annoyed me.

“Go to hell.”

Garrett crossed his arms across his chest. As hard as I tried not to look at the tattoos covering his forearms I failed. When he left for the military, he’d had a few tattoos here and there. When he’d broken up with me, he’d had a flag and an eagle on his right shoulder. Since then, he’d gotten both arms sleeved. His right arm had colorful designs from his wrist up his forearm, disappearing under the material of this t-shirt. His left arm was wrist up no color. I vaguely thought that was odd. I also thought that was a good representation of the man Garrett was—thoughtful, caring, loyal, protective when you were in his heart.

Cold, distant, unapproachable, harsh when you weren’t.

Color. No color.

“On the way over here, I made a few calls,” he informed me.

I bit back a smartass comment and waited for him to finish saying whatever it was he wanted to say.

“Slater Boone—”

I put my hand up and interrupted, “Stop. I don’t want to hear it. There’s nothing that you could’ve learned about my brother-in-law in the fifteen-minute drive over here that I don’t already know.”

Unfortunately, Slater had been in my life a good long while. I didn’t like the guy twelve years ago when my sister married him. I didn’t like him when he started openly being a dick to her in front of me. And I actively started to despise him when my sister confided in me that he’d slapped her after my nephew, Christian was born. That was five years ago, and I was under no illusion Slater had seen the error of his ways and sought help for his anger issues. My sister didn’t have to tell me her husband was continually abusing her. It was right there in the open—every time she flinched when he came near her. Every time she recoiled from his touch. Yet, no matter how many times I begged her to leave him she wouldn’t. Then my niece Grace was born, and suddenly Analise was ready to leave but she’d said we had to play it smart.

So we did.

But it was too late.

Way too fucking late.

“So you know before he married Analise he beat the shit out of his last girlfriend so badly she was hospitalized.”

“What?” I wheezed.

There was no way that could be true. People talked and they did it whether what they were saying was true or not. And since Slater wasn’t well-liked the news of him beating up a woman would’ve been spread far and wide.

“That’s not possible,” I started.

“It’s not?” Practiced sarcasm dripped from his tone.

“What I mean is, if he’d beat up a girlfriend everyone in town would’ve been talking about it.”

“Not if his girl was up in Whitefish.”

Well, damn. He had a point. Whitefish was about an hour north with double the population of Blackhawk.

“How do you know this?”

My question was met with a look of confusion that quickly became conflicted before he blanked his face and set his jaw.

“I hate you can do that,” I mumbled.

“Do what?”

Without thinking my hand came up and swept through the air in the general direction of his masked expression.

“Whatever you’re doing right now with your face.”

“My face?”

“Yeah, your face. You never used to do that before,” I pointed out.

One of the things I’d always loved about Garrett was his expressive eyes; they said everything without him speaking a word. Now, they were totally devoid of any emotion.

I watched as his jaw clenched but he didn’t bother denying he was hiding from me. The problem was I didn’t know what he was hiding. He’d pushed his way into my house full of fire but now he looked like he was wondering how he got there. That was annoying. But it was the vacant stare that hurt.

“You need to stand down,” he repeated.

“Dude, I’m not gonna stand down.”

Garrett’s lip curled in disgust.

Someone who didn’t know him the way I did might think that lip curl was due to me not giving in. However, they’d be wrong.

“Dude,” he spat.

I shrugged off his unspoken censure.

“Hey, if you don’t like the way I speak or what I’m saying, there’s the door.” I pointed across the room for good measure. “Feel free to use it. No, wait, please use it whether you want to or not. This conversation’s over.”

“The fuck it is, Melissa. Slater is dangerous.”

Since Garrett wasn’t telling me something I didn’t already damn well know seeing as he murdered my sister, I said nothing.

He mistook my silence and continued on. “What do I need to say to you to convince you to drop this and let the police handle it?”

That was when I snapped.

About everything.

“I know Slater is dangerous, Garrett, he killed my sister! And the police aren’t handling shit. The case is closed. Not that there ever was a case or an investigation. Just Slater’s statement that Analise had been acting erratic since Grace was born. He didn’t come straight out and say it, but it was implied Analise took her own life. The police thinking they were doing right by my grieving parents filed Analisa’s death as an accidental drowning. Which is total bullshit. My sister didn’t decide to take a swim, fully clothed.”

Garrett’s face softened a smidge before he gently said, “Mellie.”

If he meant to say more, I didn’t let him continue.

“I swear to all things holy if you ask me if my sister killed herself, I’m gonna lose my shit,” I warned.

“You know me better than that, baby,” he returned softly and looked like he immediately regretted the slip up.

For my part, hearing Garrett call me baby was the equivalent to being run over by a Mack truck—and not just one but a whole convoy of them.

“I don’t know you. I don’t know a damn thing about this Garrett. No, actually, I do. I know he doesn’t want anything to do with me, my fucked-up life, or my fucked-up priorities. I know he told me to never contact him again. I know I don’t exist for him.”

“Mellie—”

“Don’t. Don’t say anything. I don’t know why you’re here butting into my life when you made it crystal clear you never wanted to see or speak to me again. I don’t know why, and I don’t fucking care. I just want you to leave.”

“Give me a day to look into—”

“No. Way.”

My refusal was met with a scowl, but more—the whole vibe of the room changed. The man standing in front of me was not my Garrett. Not the boy I grew up with, not the teenager I fell in love with, not the man I wanted to spend my life with. I’d never seen this Garrett, not even in the years since he’d broken off our engagement and he’d turned cold.

This new version of him was more than a little scary.

He became even scarier when acidly he bit out, “I wasn’t asking, Melissa.”

My anger ratcheted up to an all-new high. I felt my hands start to shake and I knew what was coming next—the dreaded tears of frustration. The kind you couldn’t stop because the rage was so overwhelming it needed to leak out some way or it would explode and tear you apart.

“Fuck. Off.” I hated that my voice cracked. I hated that my words barely came out above a whisper. I hated that Garrett Davis was standing in my apartment.

I just plain hated him.

“Mel—”

His phone rang in his pocket, cutting off whatever the next irritating thing he was going to say next. But before I could tell him to shove his phone up his ass on the way out the door he was stabbing angrily at the screen.

Then the next thing I knew he answered, “Hey, KK, you’re on speaker.”

“Oh-kay,” a woman’s voice came over the line. “Can you talk?”

My eyes went to the floor as insane, irrational jealousy washed over me. So much of it I was afraid those threatening tears would spill over and roll down my cheeks.

“Yeah, whatcha’ got?”

“Something felt off, so I did some more digging,” she weirdly announced.

“What’d you find?” Garrett asked.

“Slater Boone’s a dick!” this KK person hissed. “Like a major one. He’s also in debt to his eyeballs, not because he doesn’t make decent money. He’s also collected on a fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance policy from his dead—”

“Kira,” Garrett snapped. “You’re on speaker.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Melissa can hear you.”

“Melissa Rivers?” she breathed and she sounded in pain.

That jealousy turned ugly. Acid burned in my gut as I lifted my eyes to find Garrett staring at me.

“You should leave so you can talk to her in private.” No sooner did the suggestion leave my mouth than Garrett’s eyes narrowed on me.

“I don’t need privacy to speak to Kira. I was reminding her she was on speaker phone because the woman has a faulty filter. Before she said something that would hurt your feelings, I wanted to stop her.”

“My filter’s not faulty,” Kira denied. “It works just fine. It’s not my fault all you men have sensitivity issues.”

Garrett rolled his eyes to the ceiling before they rolled back to me and he demanded, “Just finish telling us what you found.”

“Not until you apologize for being rude.”

If I didn’t dislike this woman for obviously knowing Garrett well, I would’ve liked her.

“That shit might work on the boss—God knows you’ve got him wrapped around your sassy little finger—but you know that shit doesn’t work on me.”

“Okay. Have a good day. Talk—”

“Stop fucking around and finish,” he growled.

“Damn, you’re grouchier than your normal grouchy,” she muttered. “Take a joke.”

“I’ll take a fucking joke when my old man’s not recovering from an accident that nearly took him from my mother and I’m not standing in the living room of an old friend who’s sticking her neck out there investigating Slater while at the same time trying to help her parents get custody of her niece and nephew. So do me a favor, yeah, and just tell me what you found.”

That was harsh.

True, but harsh.

However, I was having trouble breathing after Garrett had plunged a knife into my heart so I couldn’t say anything.

An old friend.

That’s what I was? An old fucking friend. Not his ex-fiancée. Not the woman he’d asked to marry him. Not the woman who he’d planned a future with. Not the woman who had at one time loved him beyond measure.

I was a fucking friend?

“Right, Sorry, G.” She sounded sorry and when she went on, she was all business. “Slater collected on the life insurance. It went into his bank account and within a month it was gone. All cash withdrawals. Some ATM. But the larger sums were done in the bank.”

What? All of Analise’s life insurance was gone?

“Where’d the money go?” I asked.

“That’s gonna be harder to trace,” Kira told me. “But from what I found and this hasn’t been verified, he gambles and he’s not very good at it. Do either of you know Steve Metzbower? He lives in Blackhawk.”

Steve Metzbower was almost as much of an asshole as Slater was.

“Yeah, that’s Slater’s friend,” I answered. “He was the best man at my sister’s wedding when she married Slater. He’s also Christian’s godfather, that’s how close Slater and Steve are.”

“I don’t remember a Steve Metzbower,” Garrett said.

“Sure you do. He was two years older than you in high school. He’s the idiot that got drunk the night of your senior prom and drove his truck onto the football field and did donuts,” I reminded Garrett.

“Bowser?” he sneered.

“Yeah, that was his nickname.”

Garrett’s brows pulled together, and his lip curled. “He had a reputation for chasing freshman.”

“Yep. His first wife was about five years younger than him. But his second wife was eighteen when he married her, and he was thirty-two. He’s a dick. Him and Slater are a match made in hell. When the two of them are out together there’s gonna be trouble.”

I could hear what sounded like typing in the background before Kira asked, “Has Steve or Slater ever mentioned betting on sports?”

I didn’t have to think about my answer, but I did have to shove my hands into my pockets to stop them from shaking so hard.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, not wanting the memory to take root.

“Mellie Kate?” Garrett called. “Need more than that, baby.”

Baby.

An old friend.

Mellie Kate.

I wish he’d stick to Melissa instead of twisting his blade.

As much as I didn’t want to talk about how I knew Slater gambled nor did I want Garrett or this Kira person in my business, I needed anything I could find to help my parents get the kids from Slater.

It was with that in mind—and my negative bank balance meaning I couldn’t afford to hire the private investigator our attorney had recommended—I begrudgingly answered, “The first time I ever saw Slater get into my sister’s face and scream at her it was because she was upset they were going to be late on their rent because he lost money betting on a Raiders game.”

I watched Garrett’s jaw get tight but that was not what held my attention. It was the tension in his frame, the way his fury seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the room. It was overwhelming and scary and had me taking a step back.

Which turned out to be a good thing when he exploded, “He did what now?”

There had been a time when Garrett was close to my family. Well, not my brother but he’d had a friendly relationship with my sister before she’d turned wild. I knew her turn had worried him, then the longer it went on it annoyed him. But more than a handful of times he’d talked to me about his unease, especially when she hit her twenties and hadn’t snapped out of it.

“Mellie?” he growled.

“He got in her face a lot, but that was the first time I saw it. After that…he…well…” I stumbled over my words not wanting to further enrage Garrett.

“He what?”

“He didn’t hide he was a verbally abusive dick. Though he never did it in front of Mom and Dad.”

Garrett opened his mouth to say something, but Kira cut in and hissed, “What an asshole! I’m gonna look into Laurie McCabe and see if makin’ an approach would be something she’d be receptive to.”

“Who’s Laurie McCabe?” I asked.

“The woman who refused to press charges after Slater Boone beat the shit out of her.”

Well, that explained why our attorney didn’t find anything on Slater when he ran a background check.

“Send cash.” Garrett’s demand made my shoulders tense.

“Why do you need money? Are you going to pay this woman off?” I asked.

“Cash is a person and I’m gonna need him out here to help me look into Slater while I’m taking care of my dad. Once he’s home and no longer terrorizing the nurses at the rehab center I’ll be able to devote more time to this. Until then, I need to make sure Dad doesn’t get kicked out, meaning my mom will lose her mind and she’s worried enough as it is.”

Marion.

Damn, I needed to call her and ask her to lunch. But first I needed to put a stop to this.

“I can’t afford—”

“You’re not paying.”

My mouth must’ve dropped open or my throat closed—one or the other happened since I couldn’t get either to form an argument. Which was unfortunate when Garrett continued to give his directives.

“Get Cash out here and dig deeper into the gambling angle. With Analise being gone it’s gonna be impossible to prove the abuse. The Rivers family needs to prove Slater is unfit to raise his children. I’m not sure if a gambling addiction will stand up in court but it will if they can prove he’s putting his children in danger because of it. Get whatever you can on Steve Metzbower—anything you can find on him. And Kira, if you feel up to taking a trip out to Montana, I’m thinking it would be best for you to approach Laurie.”

“Already booked Cash on a flight leaving tomorrow morning flying into Glacier Park International,” Kira started. “I’ll talk to Coop when he’s out of his meeting and see if he wants to come with me. Him being an ex-cop might come in handy if we have to deal with the local law enforcement. Either way, I’ll be out in the next few days, too.”

Garrett’s eyes slowly closed and when they reopened pain like I’d never seen before—not even when my sister admitted her husband had taken his hands to her—shone so agonizingly bright I couldn’t stop my flinch.

“Thanks, KK,” he softly returned.

“One day you’ll believe me when I tell you there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

With that parting shot, she disconnected.

Leaving me staring at a broken man.

A Garrett I’d never seen—vulnerable and raw.

The look of a man who was fraught with more demons than any one person could handle.

I knew, not by his blank stare and dead eyes—I felt it as the woman whose heart would forever be tethered to his.

We’d always been two halves of a whole.

One soul, two bodies.

That was the depth of our connection.

That was why I would never rid myself of Garrett Davis.

He owned half of me.

And I didn’t know how to break the spell.