“No.” Armie quickly reseated himself. “But Denver is. How long do you expect a woman like Cherry to wait?”
Harking back to the conversation they’d had at the hotel, Denver said, “A woman like Cherry—who’s a different kind of nice?”
“You remember that, huh?”
“Anyone can see you’re hung up on her,” Stack pointed out. “And vice versa.”
Denver chewed it over, decided fuck it, and looked at each of his friends in turn. “It wouldn’t bother any of you, the way she flirts? I mean, if you were involved?”
Armie frowned. “Get out of here.”
“She’s flirted with you,” Denver said, and then to Stack, “You, too.”
Stack laughed. “She jokes around, but I always knew it was you she wanted.”
“Same here,” Armie said.
“It’s been pretty obvious,” Cannon agreed. “The only one who might have misunderstood was you.”
“And,” Armie said, “it’s past time for you to get it figured out.”
Denver sat back in his seat. “I already did.” Idly, he rearranged his half-empty glass of tea that Cherry had served with dinner. He looked at each of his friends. “She’s something else, isn’t she?”
A round of agreement made him smile. “Her fucking foster brothers are really starting to piss me off.”
They all knew the petty thugs wouldn’t just go away. That meant they had to ensure no one got hurt by them.
“I talked to Margo,” Cannon said.
“Lieutenant Peterson?” One tough lady, Denver thought—although with her husband and baby daughter, she seemed much softer.
“What’s the use in having cops for friends if you don’t pick their brains every now and then,” Armie explained.
Cannon nodded. “Right now there’s not a lot they can do. But she said if they approach Cherry at all, give her a call. It wouldn’t hurt to put restraining orders against the lot of them, but that’d require having them served with the orders.”
“And we don’t know where they’re staying.” Frustration mounted to the boiling point.
“You’re in training,” Stack said. “Want me to pick up Cherry after she gets off work?”
Denver shook his head. He had a feeling Cherry wouldn’t appreciate everyone being involved in her business. He had his hands full getting her to let him in, much less everyone else. “I’ve got it covered.”
“I can at least fill in for you at the rec center,” Stack insisted.
“Thanks. If I need you, I’ll let you know.”
“I tried a return call on the number Carver used to call me,” Armie said. “No go.”
Denver hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “Cherry has his number. I might give the bastard a call.”
Silent surprise filled the room.
Armie sat forward. “If you have his number, what the hell are you waiting for?”
“She doesn’t want me involved.”
They all stared at him.
“Fucked-up, right?”
“Don’t take it as an insult,” Cannon advised. “Odds are she’s embarrassed and trying to minimize things.”
“That’s part of it.” Denver popped his neck, rolled his shoulders. He glanced back to ensure they were still alone. He could hear the shower running, turned back to his friends, and fessed up. “Seems Cherry and I work on some levels, but not on others.”
“Bullshit,” Cannon told him. “You make it work, that’s all. No one said it’d be easy.”
“But is she worth it?” Armie asked. And before Denver could answer, he said emphatically, “You know she is.”
“Yeah.” More than worth it.
The silence held until Cannon shifted verbal gears. “If you’re moving her in, let me know. I don’t want Rissy at the house alone until all this is resolved.”
For the next ten minutes they discussed plans. Cannon had already put the word out so anyone new to town asking about Cherry would quickly be reported. His network knew to get as much info as they could, which might include following the strangers. Because it was sometimes kids, late teens who, thanks to circumstances were tougher than many grown men, he also stressed caution.
“Cherry’s convinced that they’re dangerous.” Denver hated thinking about what they might have put her through—things she hadn’t yet told him, things she might never tell him. “No one take any chances, okay?”