Page 119 of Misguided

THIRTY-EIGHT

Mel

I can’t say Hooch was too impressed when I phoned to let him know I’d be staying a little longer in Lincoln with Dog, but I think he also knew there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“You better not be up to no good,” he’d said. But considering he left his disapproval at that, I’m hoping he’ll come around to the idea soon.

Didn’t drop the ‘L’ word, though—thought telling him the depth of my feelings for the guy might be pushing the boundaries a bit far.

“What time is the call?”

Dog twists the bottle of beer before him around on its coaster. “Three.”

I thought maybe a trip to the bar in town might lighten him up, give him a distraction if we weren’t twiddling our thumbs at the clubhouse. But all he’s done is sit in relative silence, lost in his thoughts.

“You know what they’re going to ask you yet?”

He nods. “Stuff about his assets, his attitude toward money. They’re fishin’ for me to tell them that he seemed to spend up large, never have any debt or struggles. But shit, the old man’s loaded. What’s that goin’ to prove?”

“I guess your dad’s worried you’re going to glam it up and make out he threw money around recklessly, though. Tell them you don’t know where he got it from, or that he’d lie to you bout how he bought things.”

“He’s worried I’m goin’ to lie and say he told me he was guilty.”

“How can you do that when you don’t know the specifics of the case?” I reach for the pitcher of ice water and pour myself another.

“Exactly.” Dog runs a hand through his hair, sighing as he drops his head. “I spoke to King about it last night.”

“Wondered where you went.” After he made sure I understood just how much he appreciates me, and not only my body, I fell asleep, only to wake later and find the bed empty.

“Didn’t want to wake you, babe.” He leans over and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You looked too fuckin’ adorable all wrapped up in the blankets.”

“Wake me up next time, huh? If something bothers you, I want to be able to help.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“So what did he say about it, anyway?”

Dog takes a pull of his beer, setting it down before he answers. “He suggested I go see Lorelle and see what she wants me to do.”

“Lorelle?” I tamp down the uncalled for jealousy that surges through me.

“My brother’s wife.”

“Oh. She’s not all that likely to suggest you make sure he gets put away though, is she?” Why would a wife do that to her husband?

“They got married out of convenience. There isn’t a lot of love between them.”

Still …

“He’ll know you’ve spoken to her, though, won’t he?”

Dog finishes his bottle and then slides it across the table. “Not if we do it right.”

“We?”

“Lawyer’s office said when they gave me the time for the video call, that they were tied up in consultation with him until lunch.”

“We?” I repeat.