Page 24 of Shadow Strike
“Kristina is a victim rights activist,” he told her.“Dr.Montgomery has a special arrangement with her because she’s good, and she uses a sliding scale for clients.We’ll get a payment plan worked out.”
Lucy nodded, satisfied.She reached over and squeezed Regan’s hand.“The bar is the only thing we have left of Henry.I’m not giving it up without a fight.”
Regan stared at her mother’s hand gripping hers.She was quiet for a long moment.CB knew she was assessing which parts of his plan she could and couldn’t control.“It’s a reasonable approach,” she said.“Let me think about it.”
“Regan,” Lucy said in that motherly tone.
Regan withdrew her hand and picked up her plate.“We should go,” she said, standing.“I’ve got lots to do before we open.”
Lucy caught CB’s eye and winked.It seemed to say,she’ll come around.
He gave a small nod.He sure hoped so.
At the bar, Regan unlocked, ran the opening sequence, and started the coffee.She poured two cups without appearing to think about it and set one in front of him.
He took it, and neither of them mentioned that she’d done it automatically, as though he’d always been here.
He carried it with him to the well and started his own opening checks—the bar layout was already familiar, the inventory counts in his head, the camera feeds up on his phone.Regan disappeared into the back office to retrieve the cash box for the register.Lucy went upstairs to look for an extension cord she needed for her crockpot.
He was checking the taps when the front door opened.He looked up, ready to call a greeting, and froze.
Ryder stood for a moment just inside the door, letting his eyes adjust.Shoulder-length hair, expensive jacket, the particular ease of a man who had never in his adult life walked into a room and wondered if he belonged there.He removed his aviator sunglasses and took in the place with a sweep that was practiced enough to look casual.He found CB behind the bar, and his brows rose.
Then the corner of his mouth moved.Not quite a smile.He sat down on a stool, laying his sunglasses on the bar.“This is a surprise.”
“What can I get you?”
A pause.“Coffee,” he said.
CB poured him a mug and set it in front of him.
Ryder tapped the handle absentmindedly.“Is this your security job?Playing bartender?”
CB grabbed a fresh towel and scrubbed at a spot on the chrome of a beer tap handle.“The Hills are good people.They need help.”
“Help?”Ryder snorted.His voice went flat.“Come on, CB.What the hell are you doing?Does family mean nothing to you?”
CB met his eyes.“Family means a lot to me.”
“Then how are you standing here?After what she did to my dad?”The flatness was gone.Anger rippled through his words now.“Ray is in prison because of that girl.Because of her damn podcast.And you’re—” He stopped.Picked up the coffee.Set it down without drinking it.“You’re helping her?”
Because of that girl.Regan was no girl, and Ryder had clearly underestimated her.
His cousin had always been good at framing his own interests as a collective wound, at making personal grievance sound like principle.CB had been watching him do it since they were teenagers, had even been susceptible to it once when Ryder urged him not to go into the Army.It was Ryder’s plea that had nearly kept CB at home.
“Ray made his choices,” he said.“Same as the rest of us.”
Ryder’s jaw tightened.“That’s all you’ve got?”
CB shrugged.“That’s all there is.”
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Regan came through with the cash box under one arm.“Sorry, we were low on ones.I had to get into the safe and?—”
She saw Ryder and stopped.
Ryder smiled.“Good morning, Regan.”
She didn’t even hesitate.“Get out of my bar.”
