Tate was still chuckling when he looked down at Jonas and stated, “See? Full of it.”

I glared at them both but gave up glaring because this had no effect whatsoever on either of them and they looked sweet standing like that. As sweet as it was, I still stomped toward them, then by them, then into the house.

Then I made French toast.

Yes, for Tate too.

But I also made certain that, after I plonked Tate’s plate in front of him, he was clear I did it under protest.

This made both of them burst out laughing.

Tate was bossy and that was annoying but, after that scene, both my boys were laughing.

Therefore, my job was done.

* * * * *

“She ain’t talkin’,” Special Agent Garth Tambo said to Tate in the hall just down from Sunny’s hospital room.

I looked down the hall to see Shambles in a crouch in front of Jonas, Jonas was speaking and Shambles, looking like he had exactly three seconds of sleep, was nodding.

Tate, myself, FBI Special Agent Tambo and Arnie Fuller, Carnal Chief of Police, father to Tate’s crazy ex-girlfriend and Tate’s mortal enemy (and a man I did not like because he had beady eyes, a serious beer gut which was wrong in his uniform and a penchant for glowering ferociously at Tate) were standing about ten feet from Shambles and Jonas.

“Not talkin’?” Tate asked Tambo and Tambo shook his head.

“Not a peep.” He jerked his head at Shambles. “Not even to her man.”

“Man, right, that’s what he is,” Chief Fuller muttered with disdain and I caught both Tate and Special Agent Tambo’s eyes cutting to him before mine went to him. I noted Tate’s gaze was annoyed, Tambo’s was frustrated.

As for myself, I was angry.

“They’ve been together for six years,” I said to Chief Fuller. “And in those six years they spent two nights apart. One of those nights Sunny spent na**d in the forest oozing blood from stab wounds while Shambles nearly lost his mind with worry looking for her and the other she was in a hospital bed. Six years together, six years of every night but two sleeping in the same bed. If I was Sunny, that’d be the definition of Shambles being my man. Knowing what he went through and how he feels about her, that’s my definition of Shambles being a man.”

Chief Fuller turned his glower to me but Tate spoke.

“Ace –”

I lifted a hand, palm up in Tate’s direction and kept my eyes on Fuller.

“They live in your town. You don’t like hippies, that’s your choice. But that personal choice gets put in a box the minute you put on that uniform.”

“Don’t need you to tell me my job, Miz Grahame,” Fuller said to me.

“I don’t know, I’m new to these parts but, word around town, someone needs to do it,” I shot back, Tate’s arm curved around my shoulders and he pulled and twisted me so my front was against his side.

“That’s right, Jackson, rein her in,” Fuller warned.

“Arnie,” Tate replied, “she’s close to the two of ‘em. Cut her some slack.”

“I’ll cut her some slack when she ain’t mouthin’ off at me,” Fuller returned.

“You’ll earn some slack when you aren’t confronted by a friend of a victim after you got a report of a missing person, a female, a report you didn’t act on when you know you got a monster huntin’ your patch and you don’t mutter slurs,” Tambo put in. “Oh, and, I’ll add that you might wanna leash that shit about the partner. Miss Grahame is right, he’s your citizen. You’re wearin’ that uniform, you don’t get to pick which ones you protect.”

Fuller was now glowering at Tambo then he switched it to me then it moved to Tate and I braced because he looked ready to spit. Then he moved away, thankfully leaving us and doing it without another word.

“That guy’s a jackass,” Tambo muttered.

Tate didn’t respond to his comment, instead, shockingly, he said, “Wire up Lauren and send her in.”

“What?” Tambo asked, his eyebrows going up.

“What?” I cried, my body going tight.

Tate talked to Tambo. “Wire up Lauren, send her in, she’ll get Sunny talking.”

I stared at Tate in horrified disbelief.

I decided to take this opportunity to remind Tate I wasn’t good in a crisis. This wasn’t a crisis, as such, but I still knew I’d be no good at it.

Therefore, I started, “Tate –”

Tate looked down at me. “She’ll talk to you.”

“No she won’t. If she won’t talk to Shambles –”

“Ace, the woman at the home store gives you relationship advice. Sunny’ll talk to you,” Tate replied.

“Wanda is nosy, Tate. Sunny’s different. She’s been attacked.”

“Stood in that line awhile, babe, saw three customers cash through. She was nice enough but she didn’t babble at any of ‘em like she was their best friend.”

I wasn’t there but I reckoned this was true. People talked to me, it had always been the way.

Then again, I talked to people, it had always been my way.

Tate kept speaking. “Jonas trusted you within hours of meetin’ you. He sized you up and gave you his burden. She’ll talk to you,” Tate went on.

This was definitely true.

Still.

“It’s not the same,” I stated.

“It was today,” Tate replied.

“Sorry?” I asked.

Tate turned so we were front to front and both his arms were around me. “Babe, he didn’t wait until he and I were alone. He didn’t ask you to leave. And he didn’t wait for you to leave when you were offerin’ it. He said what he had to say when you were there because you were there. Don’t you get that?”

“No,” I said.

“He trusted you to deal with the consequences he created.”

“But, he –”

“And you did, you dealt with me.”

“I don’t think he thought it out that much, Tate. He’s just ten,” I pointed out.

“You don’t think he hasn’t learned to scheme the best way to do shit livin’ on eggshells with a coupla drunks, Ace, you’re wrong. That shit with Neet? It’s been goin’ on awhile and he didn’t tell me until you were there.”