Chapter 3
“ W hy am I not surprised to find you here?”
My head slanted at the sound of Cameron Rush’s voice booming throughout the building I ran Shadow Industries out of. But I didn’t respond, just sat back in my desk chair and waited until his massive Scandinavian frame filled the doorway of my office.
He glanced around as if he hadn’t seen my office on a near-daily basis for years now and muttered, “Weird place for a date.”
My brows lifted. “This a date?”
A dry look crossed his face as he started for one of the chairs on the other side of my desk. “What happened with the girl Thatch set you up with tonight?”
Irritation bubbled from me as I returned my focus to my computer. “I never agreed to that.”
“You never agree to any of them.”
“Then Thatch should stop trying to set me up.”
“Or,” he began, causing me to draw in a slow, steadying breath because I knew where this was going, “you could stop being you and maybe take him up on it one of these times.”
“Why don’t you ?” I challenged, shooting him a curious glare.
“Don’t need to,” he said with a shrug. “I date.”
“You go on a date so Thatch won’t focus on you when he’s done trying to set me up,” I corrected and noted the subtle twitch of his hand that proved I was right. “Last thing I need is you siding with Thatch on this.”
“I’ve known you most our lives,” he said with a subdued huff. “I know you don’t wanna date. I know you don’t wanna settle down or have a family—I know, Briggs. But maybe you don’t know what you want. Have you ever thought it might be good for you?”
“No.”
He gestured to me. “It’s nearly ten on a Saturday night, and you’re working.”
“My company,” I reminded him.
“You’re always here,” he argued.
My head shifted back when I realized there wasn’t a reason for him to be there either. “Wait, why are you here?”
He studied me for a handful of seconds too long, the corners of his eyes creasing in that way they did when he didn’t want to tell me something and already giving away the confession that left him on a sigh. “Thatch sent me.”
“Gotta be kidding me,” I muttered as I snatched my phone off the desk, only to realize I had over a dozen missed calls and texts from the members of my team, Rush included.
At the questioning glare I sent his way, Rush lifted a placating hand. “Apparently the girl you stood up?—”
“Never agreed to go,” I ground out.
“—called Thatch in a state,” he continued as if I’d never spoken. “And no one could get ahold of you, so they called me.”
“I never agreed to go,” I repeated, annunciating each word and syllable.
“I know,” Rush muttered and pushed out a heaving breath as he leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “But I think maybe you should. Not necessarily with one of Thatch’s finds,” he hurried to add.
“No.”
“Briggs—”
“Answer’s no.”
Rush worked his fingers through his beard a few times before looking toward the open doorway as I sent a message to Thatch, letting him know this entire night was on him for not realizing I’d meant it when I’d said I wasn’t going.
Turning Do Not Disturb off once I was finished, I tossed the phone on the desk and took in Rush’s worried expression.
“Why’s this bothering you so much?”
He glanced at me again as a quiet laugh pushed from his lungs. “Because I do know you...like I said.” He gestured toward the door with a lift of his chin. “The others don’t know why you avoid women and relationships, but I do. And you’re gonna realize one day that you made a mistake by pushing people away to keep from repeating your mom’s choices.”
I waited until I was sure he was finished before turning it around on him. “But it’s fine for you to not live that white-picket-fence life?”
Sadness and longing swept across his features so quickly, I would’ve missed it if I would’ve blinked. “I’m waiting on her, Briggs,” he said honestly as he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest as he did. “I’ve been waiting on her for a long time.”
Surprise pulsed through me at the unexpected admission.
Rush knew my life in a way that very few did—a life that endorsed my aversion to relationships and families. But because of my past, we’d never really talked about dating or women in general unless it had to do with work.
But at his words, my own confession started tumbling free like a sin. “Right before I brought Evans on last year, I came in late one day—not sure if you remember.”
“Coffee shop tracker,” Rush said unexpectedly. When I just stared at him, he shrugged. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever been late to anything. You also said people like her are why we have Donuts so many times that both Thatch and Gray came in with donuts for everyone the next day.”
“Right.” I swallowed thickly before admitting, “That girl...I’ve looked for her at the shop ever since.”
Rush’s brow furrowed for only a second before realization settled over his face and shifted to intrigue. “Looked—Briggs, we can find her. You could’ve already found her by now.”
My head was shaking before he finished talking. “I’m not sure I want to,” I admitted. Before Rush could cut in, I explained, “Something about her...unsettled me.”
Terrified. She’d terrified me.
Because I’d nearly risked my life—again—by going after a couple lower-tier mafia members because they’d chosen her . A girl I’d never seen before that morning and had no intention of seeing again.
Because I’d wanted to stay with her.
Because I’d liked the way she’d fit against me and the way my heart had tripped up every time her stormy blue eyes had locked on me.
“If you’ve been looking for her, I’d say she more than unsettled you,” Rush said with a knowing smirk.
I gave him a dry look but still conceded, “If there were ever going to be anyone, I have a feeling it would be her.” Grabbing for my phone when it began ringing, I glanced at the number I didn’t recognize and offered Rush a victorious smirk. “Good thing I’ll never see her again.”
“I’ll take that bet,” he muttered as I answered the call.
“This is Asher Briggs.”
“Mr. Briggs, this is Detective Grant with the Dallas Police Department,” the man began, and I felt every muscle in my body lock up and every bone turn to stone as denial and a soul-deep dread ripped through me.
It wasn’t that a detective was calling; we dealt with law enforcement often enough in our line of work, and even more so in my family. It was his tone...that well-practiced sympathy wrapped up in support. The one that only accompanied unimaginable, life-destroying news.
And I knew, before he ever continued, exactly how he was about to destroy mine.