Amy’s, no.

“Doc’s informin’ her folks, I’ll get to them when they get here.”

Sully nodded. “Speakin’ of here, why are you? You’ll never earn another frittata from Feb sittin’ behind your desk.”

“She’s closing tonight.”

“Ah,” Sully grinned, “still, she’s behind a bar, wearin’ one of her chokers, no doubt, lookin’ hot, definitely no doubt and that bar’s two blocks away. You walk out the front door, you’re off duty, so, again, why you still here?”

“Good question,” Colt said and stood up, grabbing his blazer.

He was on the move when Sully called out, “You still want me to activate the Lorraine gossip tree?”

Colt didn’t turn, just lifted his hand in a wave that was a single flick of the wrist and called back, “Absolutely.”

* * * * *

Colt hit J&J’s and his eyes hit Feb.

Hers hit him and she gave him a jaw tilt.

Denny Lowe’s psychotic vengeance, Cal Johnson’s bleak retribution and Amy Harris’s incomprehensible suicide and still, one jaw tilt from February and all was right in the world.

For the first time in twenty-two years after the jaw tilt, Feb didn’t take her eyes off him. And for the first time in twenty-two years, he gave her a smile.

She caught it then bent her head but he saw the smile that was directed at him but aimed at the floor. That smile was warm, it was knowing, it was everything it used to be at the same time it was a f**kuva lot more. He’d tasted her, he’d been inside her. She liked it enough to make him a frittata. Now her smile told him she also liked it enough to smile in a way that told him she wanted more.

Yes, all was right in the world.

He went to his stool and she followed him down the bar as he did.

He no sooner had his ass on it then she asked, “Off duty?”

“Yeah, honey.”

“Beer, bourbon or both?”

“Beer.”

She nodded and got him a beer.

He took a swig and she didn’t move away.

“You okay?” she asked and he saw her eyes on him when he dropped his arm.

“Been better.”

“Was it someone you knew who killed themselves?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Later.”

She nodded and said softly, “All right, babe,” she let it go and tilted her head to the side, “had dinner?”

“Baby, it’s nine thirty.”

“So? Frank’s kitchen’s still open. I could send Darryl down with your order.”

“I’d order a burger and he’d come back with a reuben.”

“Yeah but either burger or reuben, from Frank’s, you got no complaint.”

This was true.

“Get him to get me a reuben.”

She grinned and asked, “That mean you want a burger?”

Colt nodded, Feb laughed and everyone in the bar watched the show. For once Colt didn’t mind being their object of fascination. Fact was, hearing Feb laugh at that minute, after his day, he didn’t f**king care, they could watch all they wanted.

She took off around the side of the bar, walking behind him. Colt itched to grab her but he didn’t. In J&J’s, she’d decide how what was going on between them was communicated.

Morrie came around him with a tray full of empties. “Hey dude.”

“Hey Morrie.”

“Any closer to the world bein’ safe for my baby sister again?” Morrie asked, setting down the tray and throwing the bottles in the bin.

“Sully and The Feds scored some hits today.”

“Awesome,” Morrie smiled, transferring stacked glasses to the side of the sink under the bar.

Colt studied his friend.

Morrie was like his father when it came to Colt, always had been even before Jack. Morrie’s belief in Colt went deep, to the molten center of the earth, made of something so strong, even that heat couldn’t melt it, couldn’t even bend it. Morrie knew Colt would make things right for Feb again even before things had changed between Colt and Morrie’s sister. He knew Colt would work at it until he dropped and he believed that, even if the road to safety was paved with shit, Colt would make it to the end of that road, carrying Feb along with him.

Even though they’d disagreed and fought, Colt knew there was no better friend could be had. He had no idea why God decided to place him, at birth, in hell only to lead him to salvation in kindergarten. Though he suspected if he hadn’t experienced hell, he wouldn’t have understood salvation. It might be f**ked but he felt grateful to God for showing him the way.

Colt swallowed the lump he felt in his throat and asked Morrie, “How’s things with Delilah?”

“When I asked if I could skip the couch tonight when I got home, she hesitated at least thirty seconds before she said no,” Morrie answered.

“Progress.”

“Damn straight.”

Feb came up beside him, close, wedging herself between Colt and the empty stool next to him. She leaned forward, forearms on the bar, her head turned to him.

“Burger, reuben or wildcard ham and swiss, comin’ right up,” she told him.

“I hate ham,” Colt replied.

She threw her head back and laughed, loud and wild, exposing her throat, highlighting her choker, making Colt scan the bar to see they had a decent Tuesday night crowd. Maybe too decent for Feb to feel comfortable leaving Morrie and Darryl at the bar so he could take her home and f**k her brains out.

He also noticed, unusually slowly, with her choker she was wearing a fitted, white blouse, a long, straight figure-skimming jeans skirt, a pair of cowboy boots and her makeup was different, heavier but instead of looking overdone, it made her eyes smoky and unbelievably sexy.

Dolled up for Costa’s. And for Colt.

When she stopped laughing, her eyes came to his. “Frank uses that honey-baked ham, Colt, not the boiled stuff. You’ll like it.”

“I see Darryl’s potential f**k ups come with the territory.”

After his comment, her face assumed that look again, eyes soft, lids part lowered, lips tilted at the ends in that little, sexy smile, but this time he understood it. She wasn’t giving him something, holding something back. She was giving him something f**king spectacular and she was promising just how much better it would be when she stopped holding back.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I’ll cope if it’s ham,” he told her.