Chapter Five

 

It was the oddest thing, knowing she was going to go home with this man and being unsure if there was anything else to his offer—the one about him letting her use his bed. While he slept on the couch and Georgey took the floor.

It felt more like a slumber party than something carnal, she thought as she filled out yet another piece of paperwork at the White Sandy police station.

But then there’d been that moment when he’d stepped into her, touched her face and leaned down like he wanted to kiss her.

That moment had been way too short. And since that moment, Tim Means had been nothing but a sheriff. He’d brought her back to the station, set a huge amount of paperwork before her and handed her pen. He’d shown her Georgey’s rap sheet and filled her in on all the times he’d arrested her brother. He’d done so in a detached way that was almost clinical—which didn’t mesh with the way she’d seen him treat Georgey at the clinic.

Because there, she’d seen the frustration in his face that she sometimes saw in parents’ faces in meetings that usually involved the principal, the school counselor, psychologist, and a security guard or the police.

Tim Means was worried about the boy. Summer supposed that was encouraging. Georgey did have an impressive record. He was the kind of kid who was right on the edge of being written off by society.

Tim hadn’t written him off yet.

However, that didn’t mean she knew what to do next.

She was actively filling out paperwork to become Georgey’s legal guardian and the thought absolutely terrified her. Once this paperwork went through, he would be her responsibility. Not a problem, but responsibility.

A huge responsibility.

She was going to need someplace else to live—a place that had two bedrooms and preferably two bathrooms.

She had absolutely no idea how to tell her mother she was coming home with her half-brother. It was all well and good for Tim to go on about how they were all family and she would always belong here, but that didn’t change the hard fact that Linda Collins regretted marrying Leonard Two Elks. That didn’t mean Linda didn’t hold Georgey—and his mother—responsible for the end of her marriage.

Summer wondered if her mother regretted having her. She didn’t think so, but there had been all those things she had said right before Summer left…

Summer reined her mind in and focused on the paperwork in front of her. “Do you know if he has a birth certificate or Social Security number?” she asked Tim, who was sitting at the desk opposite her. She glanced up and found him staring at her, his dark brown eyes intense and warm, like a summer day right before a storm hit. She felt caught in his gaze, unable to look away even if she wanted to.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to. There was something she could almost reach out and grab hold of between them.

Tim got up and came around his desk to stand beside her. She could feel the warmth from his hip close to her shoulder—but not touching. He leaned down and started flipping through one of the files that he’d set on the desk in front of her. “I think I might have his number in here somewhere,” he said, his voice low and deep. Or maybe that was just because he was so close to her now.

She remembered one of the things she planned to do this summer and couldn’t because suddenly she was in charge of a seventeen-year-old boy—a summer fling. Something short and sweet and hot and very satisfying. She’d planned on going to summer concerts in Minneapolis and art gallery openings and museum talks and movies with some artistic and sensitive man by her side.

She wasn’t going to get that, not now.

But the summer fling part…

“How long do you think it will take until the paperwork resolves itself?” Surely someone had to approve all this paperwork, right?

Tim stiffened next to her. “Anxious to get out of here already?” he said in a joking tone that hit Summer’s ears a little funny.

“No, actually,” she said, leaning toward him. He was an attractive man—okay, he was just flat-out hot. He took care of Georgey and he had come for her when she was lost, and there was that something between them. Summer decided to grab for it. “I pretty much canceled all my summer plans. But if I’m going to be here for a while, I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality.”

Tim pivoted so his hip rested against the desk as he stared down at her. He arranged his face into something that looked studiously uninterested. “What sort of plans did you cancel?”

“I was supposed to teach summer school. No one likes teaching summer school,” she added with a grin, “but I have student loans to pay off and it was either that or get a part-time job in retail. And I hate retail.”

He hooked his thumb in his belt loops. God, he made that look so good. “We have a pow wow in three months—if you want to stick around that long. But I understand if you can’t afford to take the time off.”

She shrugged. “My loans aren’t going anywhere and this feels…important. I was here for a pow wow about fifteen years ago, you know? It was the last time I saw my dad and it was the only time I’ve been on the reservation. I feel like maybe I’ve missed out on something and…”

This was not the right way to ask a man if he was interested in a summer fling. She knew that. “If I’m going to be responsible for Georgey, I should understand him a little better. I mean, there are certain things all teenage boys have in common, but culturally I don’t know what it means to be a Lakota.” She swallowed and forced herself to look at him.

He was listening intently. “I could help you with that, if you wanted,” he said. “I’ve lived here my whole life and I know this reservation like the back of my hand.”

“Oh?” she teased. Teasing she could do. Having a sense of humor was essential to maintaining control of a classroom. “Can you describe the back of your hand?”

“It’s brown,” he fired back without hesitation. “And I’ve got a long scar on the back of my left hand.” He held it out, palm down, for her to look at.

He did have an absolutely huge scar that ran the length of his hand—far bigger and meaner-looking than any accidental cut ever could look. She reached out and, after a moment’s hesitation, traced her finger over the rough skin. “What happened?” She felt more than saw his body tense up. There it was again, that something.

Now it was his turn to shrug. “On-the-job hazard. Not a big deal.”

She gaped up at him, then stared at the angry scar again. She could see where it’d been stitched closed—and there were a lot of stitches. “Are you serious?”

He shoved his hand into his pocket. “You may find this hard to believe, but most people don’t like being arrested.” He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “You’re more than welcome to stay with me as long as you’d like. Will your boyfriend be okay with that?”

She leaned back in her chair and let the question hang for a second. If she wasn’t mistaken, a certain sheriff had just fished to see if she was interested in a summer fling. Her heart began to beat a notch faster and it took everything she had to not stare at his hips. Or other parts. “I don’t have a boyfriend. And you? I don’t want to cause problems…”

He was absolutely still and she could imagine him staking out some sort of nefarious bad guy, watching and waiting and putting himself in harm’s way to protect his land.

She’d never dated a cop before. Maybe it was time.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” he said in a voice that was almost soft.

“Oh, good. Then this won’t be a problem?” When he didn’t respond immediately, she began to panic. What if she’d misread the signals? Crap. She didn’t want to make a fool out of herself. She added nervously, “I mean, if you don’t mind putting up with me?”

“No,” he said, something in his eyes changing—deepening. Heat began to shimmer through her body as he stared down at her. “I don’t mind at all.”

***

Tim unlocked the door to his house and shoved it open with his shoulder. He didn’t usually bring people back to his place, so things like sticky doors and uneven floors didn’t bother him normally.

But today was anything but normal.

True, he’d had Georgey sleeping on his couch for a week and a half, but the boy didn’t give a damn about the finer points of home decorating. Summer Collins, however, probably did. Tim knew his house was one of the nicer ones on the reservation, but that wasn’t what she was going to see. For the first time in a very long time—maybe forever—he was embarrassed by his place.

And she hadn’t even gotten inside yet.

“Let me get the light,” he said, walking into the dark room and heading toward the table lamp next to his recliner. He reached it without a problem—he could walk around this house blindfolded—but something made him turn back before he flipped the switch.

Summer stood in the doorway, the last dregs of daylight silhouetting her against the darkness. He couldn’t see her face, just her outline, and it made her seem smaller somehow. He wanted to go to her and pull her in his arms, but then Georgey popped up behind her and Tim remembered this was not about him and her, but about that kid.

Or was it? Because there had been the conversation back at the police station where he told her to stay as long as she wanted and basically asked her to go to a pow wow with him. And that had nothing to do with the kid.

Tim flipped on the switch, illuminating his shabby—but clean—home. “Well, here we are. Georgey, you can sleep on either the floor or in the recliner.”

Summer stepped into the room, her eyes taking in everything that was wrong with his place. The green and maroon plaid couch was threadbare and didn’t match the yellow recliner. He didn’t even have a coffee table, just a small side table wedged in the corner between the recliner and the couch, that held his books and the lamp. The lamp had a shade, but there were brown spots on the fabric where it’d been singed by the bulb.

The walls were an unnatural shade of light green and the floor was bare wood. He didn’t even have a television—something Georgey bitched about endlessly. But when he was home, he slept. And he wasn’t home that much. He basically lived at the station.

Looking around this room, it showed.

“This is nice,” Summer said in a tone of voice that made it clear she was just being polite.

The hell of it was, it was nice. It had doors and windows and running water and electricity and a roof that didn’t leak. Compared to a lot of the homes on the White Sandy, this place was a freaking palace.

But compared to what she was probably used to? Yeah, this was a dump.

Georgey cut around her, melodramatically groaning as he hefted the small bag she had packed. “Can I put this down or do I need to hold it some more?”

Tim rolled his eyes—but Summer merely shot the boy a tight smile. “Is it too heavy for you?” she asked gently. “I didn’t have any problem carrying it…”

Tim bit back a snort of laughter as Georgey straightened up and stuck out his chest. Tim had to hand it to her—she had a way of subtly manipulating the boy.

Maybe this would work. He didn’t necessarily want Georgey off the rez, but he wanted the boy to have a shot and Tim knew that he wouldn’t get that shot here. He wouldn’t get that shot living with his mother or even his grandmother, who did her best. A teenage boy needed someone more than a sick grandmother.

Summer Collins just might be the answer to Georgey’s prayers. Not that Georgey knew it yet.

“Put her bag back on the bed,” he told Georgey. “Then get cleaned up. You reek.”

He’d been talking like that to Georgey for a week and a half now and it had never bothered the boy before. But unexpectedly, Georgey’s cheeks shot red and too late, Tim realized he had embarrassed the kid in front of Summer. Damn.

“I’m not the only one,” Georgey muttered as he trudged down the narrow hall.

Tim scowled after him then turned to apologize to Summer, only to find her laughing. “What?”

“At least he didn’t say ‘I know you are but what am I’,” she giggled. “I’m sorry,” she quickly added. “It’s been a long day.”

Tim did not have much to offer guests but he had the bare necessities. “You want a beer?”

Her lips parted as she exhaled gently. “Oh, that would be wonderful. Is it okay, do you think? To drink in front of Georgey?”

Tim was pretty sure he heard the kid snort from the hallway, but then the bathroom door clicked shut. “He’ll probably be in there for a good thirty, forty minutes—you’ve got time.” He walked back through the open space that was his living room, dining room and kitchen all in one and opened the small fridge. “I only have a couple of Beaumont beers—I hope that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.”

Tim grabbed two longnecks out and popped the caps.

“So you live here all alone?”

“I know it’s not much.” He’d never wanted anything more—well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. But he never needed anything more before.

“If I tell you it’s fine again, will you tell me it’s not a third time?” As she asked the question, her gaze didn’t leave his face. Then she lifted the beer bottle to her lips and took a drink. “Because we can keep doing this all night, if you want.”

He grimaced. “No, I don’t particularly want that.” Other things, though—yeah, he might like to do a few things all night with her.

Her eyes swept around the room again and he pulled his mind out of the gutter. He wasn’t making a good impression but the thing was, he didn’t know how to do better.

“I have these hazy memories of my dad’s place when I came to see him. It was loud and crowded—like you said, there were people sleeping on the floors. I didn’t think much of it at the time, except there wasn’t any television. But looking back now…” She took another drink. “I think he lived in a hovel. I remember my mom being horrified. But I thought it was fun that we had to go to the bathroom outside.” Her cheeks colored prettily at this last statement. “I mean, it was like camping or something.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, that’s more common here than most people realize.”

Summer dropped her gaze to the bottle in her hand. “Did you know him? My father? Because I didn’t. I don’t know if he was a good man or a bad one. I know what my mom says about him but I don’t know if that’s who he really was.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but just then, Georgey started singing and Summer cracked an awkward smile.

“I’ve got some chairs out back,” he offered. “We should be able to catch the last of the sunset.”

She nodded and he led the way out the back door which, thankfully, did not require a hip check to get open. His backyard, such as it was, was nothing to write home about. He managed to keep a small square area of grass cut on the semi-regular basis and he had two old lawn chairs, plus his grill, a battered Weber. That was it.

She paused for a second before choosing the chair on the left—it was probably the cleaner of the two. Tim did not often covet the finer things in life but right now he wished he had a nice house with tasteful furniture and clean outdoor seating that a pretty woman like Summer Collins would feel comfortable in, instead of the bare-bones stuff.

“I knew Leonard," he said, picking up the previous conversation thread. "I don’t know what your mom has said about him, but I know he was like everyone else who walks this earth. He was good and he was bad and most days those things were balanced but some days they weren’t.”

She thought on this for a while. “That was surprisingly philosophical from a sheriff.”

“I’ve been doing this for twelve years. This can be a hard life on hard land. I’ve arrested friends and buried kids and…” His voice trailed off. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“Yeah,” she said in a way that made it clear she understood what he hadn’t said.

He'd killed people. He took no pleasure in it, but he wasn’t done yet and he wasn’t going to let some two-bit criminal with a shotgun tell him he was.

“I suppose that’s true for Georgey, too—he’s both bad and good?”

It felt safer talking about Georgey than it did about her father. Tim didn’t want to admit how many times Leonard Two Elks had been a guest of the White Sandy police. “He’s just a kid—not a bad one,” he added quickly. “But he doesn’t know any other way. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life putting him in jail. I hate to give up on a kid.”

“Me, too. Some of the kids I teach…” She sighed. “They don’t have anything but the streets. They make their own families and forge identities and, like you said, you hate to give up on them. I’ve only had one or two students in the five years I’ve been teaching where I thought they really belonged in jail.”

“And Georgey is not one of those kids.” He turned to look at her. As the top of the sun slipped below the horizon, the colors bled out of their surroundings. He couldn’t tell her eyes were hazel or her hair was a light brown. He couldn’t see her freckles at all. In the dusk, she looked like she belonged here more than ever.

It was her profile, her cheekbones and her nose. Maybe she couldn’t see the Lakota in her, but he could. And something he didn’t understand, some whisper from deep inside his chest, told him to hold on to that. To hold on to her.

She turned to him. “Do you really think this will work? I mean, I know a lot about teenage boys, but my mother is not going to like this and it’s going to be hard for me to provide for him on my salary alone. I’ll be moving him to a big city and if he goes to school where I teach, it’s a tough place.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Tim said, unwilling to look away from her. “About you giving up your summer job. We’ve got a community college not too far away—Sinte Gleska. They’re always trying to get teachers who can teach GED classes. I know they couldn’t pay very much, but if you needed to stay for a few weeks…”

He wasn’t sure why he made the offer. It was all true—Sinte Gleska really did need GED instructors because there wasn’t a high school on the reservation and too many kids didn’t see the value of riding a bus for a couple hours each day to go to a place where people would call them "dumb redskins" or worse.

Well, he knew why he made the offer. Because he couldn’t remember the last time he sat outside drinking a beer and having a conversation with another person that didn’t revolve around arrests and death. Sure, they were still talking about Georgey—but this was different.

She made it different.

She studied him. “Do you do this for all your juvenile delinquents?”

“Do what?”

“Take them in, put them to work, give up your bed for family members, find said family members short-term jobs? Is this normal for you?”

The short answer was no. But that’s not what he said. “Depends on the kid, depends on the crime—but yeah, this isn’t the first time I’ve had someone sleeping on my couch when the only other alternative was leaving them in the cell.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. She just stared at him even though he could barely make out her eyes in the deepening dark. “What did he say—Jack, your friend?”

Tim choked on his beer. “What?”

“At the Clinic. He said something in Lakota and you said something back and half the people laughed.” She tilted her head to one side and he knew she was appraising him. “I assume it was about me. I don’t know if Dr. Mitchell speaks Lakota, but I got the feeling people know better than to talk about her in front of her.”

She was perceptive, he’d give her that. It shouldn’t have made Tim smile, but it did. Smart and beautiful. Which had the potential to be a major problem. “Jack told me to watch myself.”

He saw her head tilt toward him in the shadows. “And you replied…?”

There was a hint of edge to her voice and once again, Tim figured she was a hell of a good teacher. She talked about her rough school and her tough students but everything about her—her voice, her posture, her attitude—brooked no arguments. It might’ve been easy to run over a pretty young woman like her—but she wouldn’t allow it.

He sighed, trying not to feel like he’d been hauled in front of the principal. “I told him he’d better watch himself instead.”

“Ah,” she said in a voice so soft and gentle he almost didn’t hear it. She was leaning toward him and he realized almost too late that he was doing the same. The space between them was shrinking and he found himself wondering if she tasted like strawberries.

Before he got to find out, a strange current passed over the grass, like heat lightning about to strike.

Dammit. Tim stood quickly, scanning the darkness for any sign of the familiar shape. If Nobody Bodine scared the holy hell out of this woman, he and Tim were going to have a come-to-Jesus talk about it.

“What is it?” She sounded worried, but not scared. That had to count for something, he figured.

“This better be good,” Tim announced into the darkness. “You’re scaring my guest.”

He expected Nobody to materialize out of nothing in front of him, like he always did. But that’s not what happened. Instead, the man walked out of the darkness on his far right. Tim barely saw the man in his peripheral vision, but Summer must’ve been staring right at him when he appeared. She let out a terrified little squeak.

Tim spun toward Nobody as Summer flung herself out of her chair. Without thinking, Tim stepped in front of her, putting his body between her and Nobody. He thought about pulling his gun because he was that pissed that his nice, quiet evening was being interrupted. But he figured the gun would only scare Summer even more. So instead he said, “Nobody,” in his most calm, rational voice—to show her there was nothing to be afraid of.

To his everlasting amusement, Nobody whipped his black hat off his head and nodded to where Summer was hiding behind Tim. “Ma’am,” he said in his gravelly voice. “Good to see the sheriff found you.”

Summer made that squeaking noise again and Tim wondered what he had to do to have one freaking day without Nobody Bodine. On the other hand, he could feel the warmth from her body against his back. He stretched one hand out behind him, hoping to reassure her that she was safe with him. She grabbed his forearm with both hands and held on tight.

“Summer, this is an associate of mine—Nobody Bodine. There’s no need to be afraid.” At least, there better not be. Then he shot a hard look at Nobody. “What.”

“The Killerz are going after the Warriors,” Nobody said.

Tim sighed heavily. For a few glorious minutes, he’d almost been like a regular guy—sitting in the dark, drinking a beer and having a normal conversation with a normal woman. And now those minutes were over. “Where? When?”

 “The basketball courts behind the middle school.”

Summer was peering over his shoulder at Nobody, as if she couldn’t believe he were real and she couldn’t believe Tim was talking to him. “And you’re telling me this now because…”

Nobody’s face was often blank and emotionless, but even in the dark Tim could see something that looked like a smile on his lips. “Because I’m not supposed to put people in jail anymore?”

Great. Just great. Of all the time for this man to take Tim’s advice. “Fine. Does Jack know yet?”

“No.”

Tim turned to Summer and found himself less than six inches from her. She was staring up at him with wide eyes and it bothered him that she was scared. It bothered him even more that he was going to have to leave her. “I’m sorry about this, but I have to go bust up a gang war. Will you be okay here with Georgey by yourself?”

“I…guess?” She edged out from Tim’s side, but just a little. Just enough she could take a good, hard look at Nobody. “Were you the person I saw when I got lost?”

Tim glared at Nobody, who managed to look sheepish even though he was almost not there. “Yes, ma’am. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Which, all things considered, was a lot of talking for him. Then he turned his attention back to Tim. “I can keep an eye on the house, if you want.”

Summer made that small noise again and Tim shifted so she was completely behind him again. “No, Georgey will be here with her. How many are going to be there, did you hear?” Because Tim could do a lot of damage with a shotgun but if there were going to be more than ten people, he and Jack might not be able to handle it on their own.

“All of them, I think.”

Tim swore. This was all Dwayne LaRoche’s fault. The Warriors had been trying to take over what was left of the Killerz for a while now. Nature abhorred a vacuum—nowhere was that truer than in the criminal underworld.

He could call for backup, but the surrounding counties weren’t exactly eager to send reinforcements to the White Sandy. “You come with me,” he told Nobody. If Nobody haunted the edge of the confrontation and picked off the stragglers, he could single-handedly take the fight from twenty versus two to eight or ten versus two. “But try not to kill anyone.”

Summer giggled nervously behind him. But Tim wasn’t joking and Nobody knew it.

“Meet you there?” Tim asked Nobody.

Nobody almost wasn’t there but he nodded. Then, just before he disappeared into the darkness entirely, he paused and said, “Ma’am, my wife told me to tell you welcome to the White Sandy.”

Then he was gone.

Tim needed to get a move on, but he was having trouble getting his feet to listen. Instead, he stood there, looking down into Summer’s face. “Will you be all right?” he asked again.

“Should I be scared?” She didn’t sound scared. But the way her voice trickled over his skin like a cool stream on a hot summer day wasn’t making what he had to do any easier.

“No,” he told her. “I promised I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.” It was only after he finished speaking that he realized his hand had moved and he was brushing his fingertips over her cheek.

“Is that man really married?” Which, all things considered, was an interesting question. The first question most people asked was if Nobody was real.

“Yep. You remember meeting Dr. Mitchell today?” Summer’s eyes got very wide. “He’s married to her sister.”

“Oh.” She leaned into his touch and he caught her scent, a light hint of vanilla. She smelled good enough to eat. “Will you be okay? Breaking up a gang war sounds dangerous.” She reached up and touched the back of his left hand, her fingers lightly tracing the scar that a drunk with a knife had left a few years back.

“I’ll be fine,” he promised her. More than anything, he wanted to lean down and give her a kiss—one that promised he was coming back tonight. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. “Stay inside and keep the doors locked,” he told her. “I’ll be back.”

She moved before he realized what she was doing. She rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his cheek. It was a sweet gesture, but it started the fire in his blood anyway.

Then she was gone. Backing away from him before he could fold his arms round her and hold her tight. “Good luck,” she said, leaning down to pick up her beer bottle.

He wanted to tell her he wouldn’t be long but it wasn’t in his nature to make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. He held open the door for her and watched as she settled herself in the recliner. Then he went to his bedroom. He strapped on his bulletproof vest, grabbed the ammo box and his shotgun, and strapped a knife onto his thigh. He had a feeling this was going to be messy.

Once he was loaded for bear, he stopped and poked his head into the bathroom. “Georgey.”

The boy squawked in surprise. “What?”

“I have to go on a call. You’re in charge of protecting your sister. If anything happens to her, you and I are going to have a little chat.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The shower curtain moved and Georgey’s wet head poked out. “I’m not going to beat her up or anything. Jesus,” he added in surprise as he noticed the arsenal Tim wore. “What the hell is going on?”

“The Warriors and the Killerz are going to rumble. I’m going to be busy for the rest of the night. There’s a pistol under my pillow if anyone tries to get in the house. Anyone beside me, Nobody, Jack or Rebel—shoot at their feet.”

Georgey’s eyes got very wide. He’d been on the edge of enough rumbles he knew what was going on, but Tim hadn’t told him where the firearms were in this house. “Yeah, okay.”

Tim started to close the door, but then Georgey said, “Hey—Levi keeps a knife strapped to his ankle and I heard that Chuck from the Warriors keeps a handgun tucked in his waistband.”

Tim opened the door a little wider. It would make sense that the boy would turn on Chuck—Georgey was most closely aligned with the Killerz. But Levi was one of his friends. “I appreciate you sharing that with me. Anything else you think I should know?” He kept his voice as neutral as he could. The kid was offering up information and Tim wasn’t entirely sure why.

Georgey was still a disembodied head sticking out from the shower curtain. “You know I didn’t have anything to do with this, right?”

“You’ve been with me for the last week and a half.”

Georgey sighed. “Levi wants to take over. I don’t know how far he’ll go. He’s been talking about getting more guns.”

Tim waited. Silence was a tool. He wanted to make sure the kid had all the space he needed to finish spilling his guts.

“He might have said something about someone named Perros. Perros was gonna give The Killerz more guns.” Then he seemed to realize what he was saying, because he looked afraid. “But…you won’t tell him I said that, will you?”

Tim stood there in a state of shock. “Los Perros? Is that the name you heard?” This was not a good development. Tim kept his ear to the ground enough to know that Los Perros were Mexican and they were looking to carve out a bigger piece of the North American pie. Shit.

Georgey nodded. “Yeah—do you know him?”

“Them. It’s a different gang.” He’d been working for a long time to keep Mexican cartels from making inroads into his reservation. If the Mexicans were going to co-opt one of the local gangs, Tim’s job would be that much harder. “Good work,” he told the boy. “Keep this up and I might let you ride along one night.”

“Really? Cool.”

“Keep your sister safe,” Tim told him as he left the bathroom. He wasn’t sure why he made the offer to the boy. No one wanted a scared seventeen-year-old around when gunfire broke out. But Georgey had willingly given up some valuable information—the kind of information that could save a lot of lives in the long run. And he hadn’t done it because he was in trouble or was trying to negotiate a deal.

There was hope for the boy yet.

Tim walked out into the living room and found Summer staring at nothing in particular. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Her gaze came into focus upon him. But she didn’t get up. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Lock the door behind me.”

Tim walked out of the house and headed to work.