Chapter 8

Bryce glanced at the clock, 4:30 p.m., finally. This had to be the longest workweek ever. At least Thursday and Friday, unlike the first three days of the week, were uneventful. No more dead bodies had to be a good sign.

Unfortunately though, there'd been no progress on catching the killer. At least as far as he knew. And with Markie popping into his office a couple of times a day, he'd surely know if she was making headway. What he didn't understand, however, was why she wore that sympathetic look all the time. Yes, she'd figured out he grieved Edwin's death, but it wasn't like they'd been best buds or anything. After further thought, her look bordered on pity more than sympathy. It was the same stupid look people gave him when they'd noticed he was missing a leg. God, he hated that pathetic look.

The pity look she'd flashed him, the one that seemed to bore deep into his soul, had him wondering if she somehow found out about his military background and injuries. He did his best not to talk about either with anyone. And the fact he never wore shorts helped hide his prosthetic leg. Wishing he could wear shorts, he'd bought some and put them on, but every time he reached his front door his shaky hands wouldn't turn the knob.

Part of him wondered if Markie was the reason behind the unusual mid-day visit from Captain Tomie. The busy man rarely roamed the building, let alone popped into his office for no particular reason. Sure, they discussed property maintenance issues sometimes, but that topic hadn't come up during this particular conversation. Tomie used the prior week's Fourth of July holiday as a transition into a conversation about their military service. The very fireworks poor Sister Ann probably missed because she'd been stuffed inside a freezer.

Like his dad, the man sitting opposite his desk served in Desert Shield and Desert Storm. Both veterans escaped physical injury, but unlike Tomie, his father suffered from Gulf War Syndrome. Or if Tomie did, he didn't let on.

Bryce propped his elbows up on his desk, closed his eyes, and rested his head in his hands. The look of understanding on Tomie's face and the man's final words as he exited the office ran through his mind.

"Son, if ever you need to talk, about anything, know I'm here, and only across the hall. No one needs to fight - cope - alone."

The former soldier knew. Bryce swallowed hard. Did Markie? She was the last person he wanted to know about the demons that haunted him. She was the one person he secretly wished thought of him as strong - whole.

Lifting his head, he yanked his cell phone from his pocket and tapped in his dad's number.

"Hello."

"Hey, Dad."

"Something wrong?"

He drew in a long breath and let it out.

"Bryce, are you okay?"

"Yes. I just wanted to call and apologize for the other day...for being such a jackass. I know you're only trying to help, and I appreciate that. And as for my comment about your marriages, it was uncalled for. I'm sorry. I am glad you are happy."

"No worries. Hey, your brother will be on leave in a couple of weeks and he's coming home for a few days. Why don't you take some time off and we'll go fishing or something. Just us guys, like in the old days. I'm sure your brother will want to see you."

Bryce blew out a mental sigh. Carter. He loved his younger brother but seeing him only added to his pain. Carter was the perfect Marine. Exactly who he thought he'd be. Climbing the ranks - whole.

Everything he wasn't now.

"And just so you know, he's bringing a girl home to meet us. Seeing as he's never brought anyone home before, I'm guessing this Lindsey's probably the one. I saw her picture on the internet. She's beautiful."

Of course she is. Carter would have it all. A decorated military career, beautiful wife, a son who follows in his steps, and a daughter who becomes a CEO or something. Probably even a champion show dog, too. Meanwhile, he would get to continue irritating everyone as the dreaded property maintenance guy.

Life is great.

"Bryce?"

"Yeah."

"Please promise me you'll come to see your brother when he's home. He loves you. We all love you."

A lump rose in his throat. He loved them, too, but seeing Carter was hard. So unbelievably hard.

He choked down the obstruction blocking his voice. "I'll be there. Text me the dates, and I'll set up a fishing charter for us here."

"You got it. Say, do you want some help with the house next week at all? I'd help this weekend but Bridget's company picnic is tomorrow."

"Yeah, maybe Wednesday or Thursday night. We'll touch base later about that."

"Sounds good. Bye."

"Okay, bye."

Bryce stuffed his phone in his pocket, logged off his computer, and flipped off his office lights. When he stepped into the lobby, he was surprised to find a handful of management staff there, Markie included. On a typical Friday afternoon staff practically ran out of the building at closing time.

"Hey, Bryce. We were just trying to decide where to go for appetizers and a beer. Wanna join us?" Administrator Clayton Johnston asked.

All he wanted to do was go home, lock himself in the house, have a couple of beers, and not think about the week he'd had, but Markie's emerald gaze had him suggesting they go to O'Malley's Pub for some Irish nachos.

O'Malley's was a good choice for a couple of reasons. Number one, he'd hear Markie talk about how much she liked the place, and number two, Tiana used to date the owner's son and refused to step foot in the bar after he dumped her. At least he could end this awful week without having to see her out. He hadn't seen her since she made a scene in the city hall lobby on Tuesday, and he ignored her handful of calls since then. Going to O'Malley's should ensure he wouldn't have to see her while enjoying some drinks.

"How does that work for everyone?" Clayton asked.

They all nodded.

Cautioning on the side of safety, Bryce decided to ditch his SUV at home and walk back downtown to the bar. Though he was almost positive Tiana would not go into O'Malley's, the last thing he needed was to chance her coming in because she saw his vehicle parked there. Additionally, after the rough week he'd had, he wasn't sure how many drinks it would take to calm his nerves. He was almost positive it would be more than the standard two, so driving would be out of the question.

In less than fifteen minutes, he stepped through the front door of the pub. The bells clinked against the glass and most heads turned in his direction. The city hall gang sat at a long table near the dart boards. He edged his way past the pool tables toward them. O'Malley's had a pretty good business, and being a Friday night it probably wouldn't take an hour yet before the place was packed.

Bryce fought the urge to grab the open seat next to Markie like his heart begged him to, and he took up residence between Clayton and Fire Chief Bosley on the opposite side of the table. Perhaps it was a mistake to sit down one person across from her. It would be too easy for his gaze to gravitate to her, and soak in those sexy emerald eyes of hers. But then, to sit next to her would have sent his sense of touch begging him for satisfaction. Yes, he was better off sitting where he'd chosen. Markie was the look but don't touch type for him. If he touched her, he'd definitely want more, and that was out of the question.

The waitress, Sarah, served up several appetizers for them to share, then asked him what he wanted to drink. He ordered a beer, then focused on the jalapeno poppers in front of the gorgeous redhead across the table.

She scooped a popper out of the basket, set it on her plate, and then lifted the basket toward him, swirling it around. Tempting him. Teasing him.

"Here you go. I know these are your favorites." Her full red lips lifted into a soft smile.

Poppers were his favorite. How did she know that? Well, she was a trained observer, and this wasn't the first time they'd all gone out after work.

She moved the basket closer to him, and her smile widened. A genuine smile that sent his heart racing.

He took the basket from her, set a couple of poppers on his plate, and then passed it along.

Moments later, Sarah returned and set his frosty mug in front of him along with a folded-up piece of paper. She winked, spun, and sashayed away, her full hips swinging flirtatiously. Sarah was a pretty, full-figured woman who definitely knew how to work the crowd for tips, but she'd never really hit on him in the past.

His gaze returned to the small, white piece of paper lying next to his beer. Curiosity got the best of him.

"You never have a tough time with the ladies, do you?" Clayton joked as he reached over and slapped him on his shoulder blade. "I'm jealous. Us short, chubby guys have to work a lot harder to garner the attention of the beauties," the stocky man added with a chuckle.

Instantaneously, he looked at Markie. No trace of the warm smile that had been on her face seconds ago remained. Sadly, it was replaced with a thin line. After a couple of beats, she averted her eyes.

Disappointment raked through him. Deep down, he knew Markie thought of him as a player, and though that was safer for him, he didn't like it. With each passing day, he wanted even more for her to like him - not think of him as a selfish, womanizer. But, intentionally keeping her on the other side of the barrier he built around himself, at her own choice, was safer for him and her. That way he'd never be given the opportunity to disappoint her - let her down. Yes, the timing of a note from Sarah was perfect, because that look he and Markie shared over the basket of poppers was too inviting - compelling to the point where he wanted to demolish those protective walls surrounding him.

To fortify his walls of defense, he looked at the chunky man with curious eyes sitting beside him, pulled a wicked smile, and unfolded the note from Sarah.

The weighty man grunted as he leaned over to take a peak but Bryce quickly folded the note again so he couldn't see the words scribbled out.

"Come on. You're not going to share it with us?" Clayton asked while the other men at the table chimed in wanting the scoop.

He tucked the note into his shirt pocket, disregarding the men's heckles. But he couldn't ignore the complete look of disdain on Markie's face. He should be happy, he got the exact result he wanted from her.

So why did he feel like such a heel and disheartened?

What was even more disappointing was what the note said. I know you're with that whore you cheating asshole!

The note certainly wasn't from Sarah.

Bryce swung his gaze around the room expecting to see Tiana perched on a stool somewhere, but he didn't. Yet, somehow she knew he sat across the table from Markie, and he already knew what she thought of her.

Later, just to be sure, he'd have to ask the waitress who gave her the paper to deliver. But for now, he'd let everyone believe what they all assumed, that it was Sarah's number or something similar. He wondered if she knew what was on the note or if she just delivered it.

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