My back went straight when I found it wasn’t a neighbor but instead Merry’s Excursion pulling to a stop in front of my house.
Okay, I’d hoped he’d call or text.
But him showing in person was way better.
I jumped off the couch but kept an eye on him and saw him get out of his truck and round the hood.
I’d noted long ago the chief of police had no dress code for his detectives. Some, like Colt, wore jeans and sports jackets, making both look nice and professional just because he had that ability. Others wore nice slacks and jackets.
Merry wore suits, no ties. His suits were nice. They fit him well. They always complimented his coloring. They made the statement he took his job seriously. Even though he wore them extremely well, what they didn’t do was make the statement that he was up his own ass and knew how hot he was.
And earlier, he’d been in one of them, a dark gray one with a midnight-blue shirt that didn’t do much for him in the muted light of an alley, but I’d seen him in that combo before, and with good lighting, the shirt specifically did fabulous things for his eyes.
Now he was not in that suit.
He was in jeans, boots, a button-up shirt, and a leather jacket.
Apparently, you didn’t go man hunting all dressed up.
I filed this away with the other useless but interesting information in my brain and headed to my door.
I had it unlocked and opened, the storm door the same, and I was holding it slightly ajar with my hand by the time Merry made it to my stoop.
Eyes to me, he pulled it all the way open.
I didn’t hesitate to shift back.
He didn’t hesitate to walk right in.
He kept his fingers splayed on the glass of the door to soften the noise it’d make in closing. Once it clicked, he turned his head so he could pay attention while he locked it.
I shuffled back further to give him room to clear, close, and lock the front door.
He did this and turned to me, dipping his chin down.
“They get him?” I whispered.
“Yeah. Marty tackled him behind the Dairy Queen.”
Something about this made me want to laugh.
I didn’t laugh.
I asked, “Everyone okay?”
“It’s all good, sweetheart.”
I nodded, letting the tension ebb out of me.
In the subdued light that stretched from the kitchen, I saw him look toward the hall.
His gaze came back to me. “Ethan asleep?”
I nodded again. “Had trouble findin’ it, but he got there.”
“Good,” he muttered.
I stood there and Merry stood there. I stared up at him as his eyes moved over my face.
Then he looked over my head into the room as he asked, “You get any rest at all?”
“No.”
His head jerked slightly and his eyes cut back to me.
“Please, fuck, baby, tell me that piece is registered.”
“I bought it in Ohio.”
His mouth got tight.
Ohio liked their guns and the easy ability of people owning them, and Merry obviously knew that fact.
“And, uh…Colt told me as long as I don’t carry it, I’m good.”
“Colt knows you got it?”
I nodded.
“He show you how to use it?”
I shook my head.
His mouth got tight again.
“Jack showed me,” I shared quickly.
He sighed.
Suddenly it dawned on me this was weird, precisely the fact he was there at all.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“No,” he answered.
“Shit, what happened?” I asked, moving closer.
“What happened is, I got a call that reported an armed man was at large within blocks of your mom and your boy.”
Oh God. Oh shit.
Damn it, Merry.
Automatically, I moved closer, putting my hand to his stomach.
“Merry,” I whispered. Just that. I didn’t know what else to say.
“Spending the night, Cher.”
I felt my eyes get big at this declaration, but I didn’t speak or move.
“With you in your bed.”
Oh God.
“And if you don’t lock that handgun away when you’re not sittin’ vigil to look after your kid, we’ll be goin’ to sleep after I make your ass red for bein’ all kinds of stupid.”
I felt my eyes get squinty and I spoke then. I also stepped back.
“You think I’d have an unsecured firearm in my home with my kid?” I snapped.
“Lock it up. You don’t need yours out when I got mine.”
Okay, we were back on rocky ground.
“Merry, I—”
Abruptly, he moved. Hooking me at the back of my head, his face was in mine, and at what I saw in his eyes, I stopped speaking and concentrated on breathing.
“Shut your mouth. Get your piece. Lock it up. And come to bed.”
“I’m not real sure what’s goin’ on right now, gorgeous,” I said carefully. “But my boy’s in this house and—”
“What’s goin’ on,” he cut me off to start and he didn’t let up, “is tonight, you learn you got a man who gives a shit in your life, shit goes down in the night that more than likely would never touch you, but it’s still goin’ down and we both know shit happens, you don’t sleep alone. You don’t because he doesn’t sleep alone. He sleeps where he knows you’re safe. So get your fuckin’ gun. Lock that fucker up. And come to bed.”
I liked that. I wanted that. I wanted to learn that in a way it sunk so deep, I wouldn’t even remember there being a time when I didn’t have it.
And none of that was smart.