Chapter Fifty-Three
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Lincoln/ Two Years Ago
I ’ve been staring at the papers served to me since I got them forty-five minutes ago.
It’s been four and a half weeks since I spoke to Georgia.
Two since I saw her and Luca at the deli.
And this is what I get when I get home.
Fucking divorce papers.
“Son of a bitch,” I yell, slamming them down onto the ground and walking away from the scattered mess they leave behind. I’m half-tempted to rip every goddamn book off the shelves that she left behind, but I don’t.
I want to hit something.
Scream.
Get in my truck and go somewhere.
Anywhere but here.
And just as I grab my keys, I see Conklin’s name glowing on my phone screen. “What?”
Conklin pauses. “You good?” he asks hesitantly.
“Define ‘good,’” I grumble, telling him about the unexpected delivery.
“Shit, man. I’m sorry.”
Not wanting to talk about it, I scrub my eyelids and stifle a sigh. “What’s going on?”
“I wanted to let you know that Volley has an arrest warrant out for him. He failed to appear in court. They’re going to try bringing him in today or tomorrow.”
He’s our best chance at getting the answers we want. “Who’s going to get him?”
“Night shift is going to go over to his last-known address tonight. Kent and Lewis.”
I shake my head. “No. Tell them to leave it to us. We’ll go first thing in the morning.”
“Hawk—”
“I need this right now, Conklin.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“And we both know that Kent hesitates,” I point out. “He’ll drag his feet until it’s too late, and then Volley will get away. He and Lewis don’t know that Volley moves volume at night. It’s better to get him first thing in the morning.”
He knows I’m right. “You going to be okay?”
No. “I could use a drink.”
Or five.
“Come over,” he replies with no hesitation. “Marissa is about to make dinner. You can sleep here tonight if you need to.”
I stare at the paperwork on the floor, feeling my nostrils flare. “Yeah. I’ll be over in twenty.”
Because the last place I want to be is alone here with the noise in my head.
Georgia and her goddamn divorce papers can wait.
As soon as I arrive at Conklin’s place, Marissa gives me a hug, Cooper mimics her, and Matt hands me a whiskey with two ice cubes.
He clinks his beer bottle against it. “To new beginnings.”
I take a long sip as we settle onto the couch where a football game is playing, but I don’t cheers to shit.
Fuck new beginnings.
I never asked to start over anyway.