“Flash Jackson!”

A hand lands on my back, signaling me to reach out and bro-hug my old friend, Matt Douglas. When we pull apart, Matt aims Nitro and I toward the chair across from his desk in his office at the Savannah Police Department.

“What brings you by, man? It’s been a minute.” Matt’s voice carries a whole lot of warmth and just a little curiosity.

I nod, one hand reaching down to pat Nitro’s head where he sits beside me. “Yeah, it has.”

“I was sorry to hear about the accident, Flash. It’s a son of a bitch when we make it back from over there, only for something like that to happen right here at home.” There’s sympathy in Matt’s voice, but not pity. Having served in the same squadron, once upon a time, Matt knows better than anyone that shit happens. And when it happens, you’re thankful that you’re still alive, even if there are pieces of you missing.

Because not everyone makes it home alive.

After Arden fell asleep last night, I lay awake with the soft warmth of her in my arms, staring at nothing. Thinking. When I remembered that I had a friend in the SPD, a plan formed in my head about exactly what I’d do to start bringing Reese Manheim’s world crashing down around him.

If Poppy was standing beside him when he went down, well, I’d just consider her collateral damage.

“I got your card,” I say to Matt, leaning forward in my chair. “Thanks for reaching out.”

“Wish I could have done more.” Matt’s voice goes someplace far away. “But I know that a man has to find his own way back. Glad you stopped by today.”

I nod. “Wish I was here under better circumstances, but I have a problem.”

“The legal kind?” Matt’s tone is sharp.

I nod. “Not me. But I need a restraining order, and I need that shit to be as public as possible.”

“Ah.” Now there’s a knowing amusement in Matt’s voice. “Let’s hear it.”

* * *

An hour later, I’m leaving the police station, headed for the office. I have news to deliver, and this has to be done in person.

“Brooks,” I remark, as he speeds through the city. “What would you do for a woman you love?”

My driver chuckles softly. “There’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do for her, Flash.”

I nod, happy he affirmed exactly what I’m feeling. “That’s what I thought.”

When we arrive at the office, Nitro and I head up to the floor where the president’s office is located, just down the hall from my own.

I don’t bother knocking; I just open the door and stride inside. The layout of the office is simple, with a desk in the center. I have Nitro lead me until I’m standing just in front of it.

“Mr. Jackson.” Manheim’s voice is dripping with attitude. “I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

Smug son of a bitch. “That’s okay. I’ll make this quick. You’re fired.”

Silence. I wait, the sweet sense of revenge filling me up and swallowing me whole.

But just getting fired isn’t enough for Manheim. Not when he showed up at Arden’s studio, where she was alone. Not when he threatened her, scared her. No, he deserves so much worse for that.

“I’m sorry…what did you just say?”  The shock that’s so apparent in his voice is the greatest delight, the purest form of justice I can imagine.

My tone is steady, even. But underneath is a layer of rage, bubbling just below the surface. “I said, you’re fired.”

His chair scrapes loudly as he stands. “What the fuck are you talking about? You don’t have cause to fire me!”

I lean forward and speak slowly. “Want to talk about cause? You really think I’m going to let you get away with threatening my girl?”

I toss the paperwork I’ve been holding onto his desk. It makes a satisfying plop, and rustles when Manheim picks it up.

“What the hell is this? A restraining order?” He has the fucking nerve to sound surprised.

Dropping Nitro’s harness, I place both hands on his desk. “You’re nothing but a fucking leech, Manheim. This is my company, not yours. And with the restraining order on your record, and the shit I’m going to spew in the business circles in Savannah, you won’t work again, unless it’s somewhere really fucking far away. You got that?”

His voice rises an octave. “You bastard. You think you can blackball me? You must not value your blond princess’s life—”

His words are cut off when I vault across the desk and land on my feet directly in front of him. I push him backward, slamming his back into the wall behind him, my hand on his throat.

“Listen to me, you slimy motherfucker.” The words grind out through my teeth, my face only inches from his. “I might be blind, but I’m not a pussy. Remember that the next time you decide to even speak about her. You’re finished, do you hear me?” I let my fist fly, landing a punch square in his mouth. His head snaps to one side, and somehow, I keep my anger in check. “Get the hell out of my building, before I throw your ass out like the trash you are.”

I release him, backing up and hearing the satisfying splutter that comes afterward, as he spits what’s probably blood. Without another word, I turn and walk around the desk, grab my dog, and walk out of his office.

When I’m back in the car, Brooks asks where I’d like to go next. My answer is immediate.

“Take me to The Art Of Java. I need to see Arden.”

I can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. “Sure thing.”

We’ve only been driving for a minute or so when my cell phone rings. I slide my finger across the screen and the call automatically goes to the car’s sync feature. “Hello?”

“Flash?” The female voice on the other end of the line sounds frantic.

“Who is this?”

Her words are rushed and broken in half by a sob. “It’s Brantley. You need to get to the hospital. Right now!”

My stomach bottoms out, and I close my eyes. If Brantley’s calling me, it’s because Arden can’t. My heartrate thunders against my ribs, and I clutch the phone so tight I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter in my hand. “What happened?”

“It’s Arden. She’s been in an accident.”