Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“He generally is.” I kept my tone jovial, complimentary even, about Monroe’s boyfriend. No sense letting on how my neck prickled under his careful concern.
“There’s an…edge of sorts to you lately. Knox thinks you’re lonely.”
“I’m not,” I shot back, then softened my voice. “I’m an extrovert. We’re always lonely unless there’s a party of two hundred of our besties.”
“Exactly.” Monroe smiled like I’d rolled right into the center of a trap he’d laid. Damn it. “Knox thinks you should get a roommate. You said it yourself. You’re an extrovert. Maybe you simply need more people around.”
“I don’t need a roommate.” What I needed was fewer meddling friends and a solution to this case. Neither thing seemed forthcoming. Pity. We were the first on the scene, with no rescue from Monroe’s good intentions. “No roommate means no one to care when I leave my grading on the dining table or when I want to record an emergency podcast episode.”
“Don’t be so quick to dismiss the idea. Knox said you likely miss having your sister living with you.”
“And my brother before that, but I launched the kids.” I grinned, hopefully wide enough this time. “I’m okay with extra rooms at my place. Still debating whether to turn Marley’s old room into a home theater or sex gym. I’m coping fine.”
“No one said anything about coping. You always cope.” Monroe said this like it was a bad thing. “But if you’re lonely, you could try putting an ad up on the bulletin board at Blessed Bean.”
“And get a ton of responses from college kids I’ve had in criminal justice classes? Pass. I’m too old for a roommate.”
“Or too stubborn.” Monroe exhaled as an engine rumbled behind us. “Oh look. Here’s Phillips now.”
I carefully swiveled in time to see the same ancient, rusty, and battle-scarred RV I’d pissed off pull up behind Monroe’s compact.
“Seriously? This is the famous SEAL rescue diver you recruited?”
“Yep. I offered him a ride this morning, but he said his gear was all in the RV. He got in late yesterday and was super grateful for the dinner Knox saved him and the chance to get a better shower than the one in his old RV. Real polite guy. You’ll like him.”
Doubt that. But I made myself nod as a slim man exited the RV. No more a senior citizen than I was. Maybe late thirties. Hard to tell with the hat and unshaven jaw disguising one of those timeless faces, like an old western sheriff. He carried himself like one too. The classic military bearing made it so I could always spot a fellow first responder. He walked toward us with long strides, though he wasn’t particularly tall. He did have surprisingly broad shoulders, given his narrow waist and hips.
Well, at least he looked the part of a legendary diver.
“You made it.” Monroe waved him over.
“Yeah, a few minutes behind my ETA, thanks to this idiot who tried to run me off the road.” The guy had a small hint of country to his voice, southern perhaps, but not Deep South.
“It’s me.” I held up a hand. He’d spot my car soon enough. Might as well own up to it with a smile. “I’m the idiot who was trying to save a squirrel.”
“More like the idiot who couldn’t deal with going under forty-five.” This Phillips guy didn’t even crack a hint of a grin.
“Holden.” Monroe and I were roughly the same age, which made his tendency to act all paternal to me frustrating as fuck. “You should try slowing down sometimes. Might do you good.”
“Hey, I’m a safe driver.” My declaration earned pointed looks from both men. “I am. Trust me, I spent enough customizing my Mustang. I’m not going to take stupid risks.”
“You’re a good guy.” Monroe’s tone was the verbal equivalent of a head pat. Good thing I loved my friends. He gestured at Phillips. “Holden, this is Chief Callum Phillips.”
“Just Cal is fine.” The guy continued his flat delivery, no smile as he shook the hand I offered.
“When does the rest of your team arrive?” I asked.
“I am the team.” Chiseled jaw firm, Cal pursed his lips as if his dry tone hurt his full mouth. “Director, assistant director, employee of the year, and intern, that’s me.”
“Seriously?” As usual, I hadn’t thought before I spoke, so I quickly backpedaled. “I mean, I was under the impression from Monroe that multiple people were coming.”
“Whenever I do a recovery dive, I find local volunteers from the dive and veteran communities to help with logistics. They should be along any time now. But I dive solo.”
“Is that smart?” All I could picture was Cal struggling on the dive and me helpless on the shore. I didn’t even know the guy, so the vision shouldn’t have hit me on such a visceral level. Yet, my chest ached and my breath caught. I knew diving, knew how indispensable dive buddies were, knew procedure, and damn well knew the value of a good team. “I’m not sure we should allow—”