Page 92 of Forbidden Forward

Donny screeches to a halt beside me. “Forget something?”

My head swivels side to side, but I don’t see anything that sets off my alarms. “No. Just thought I recognized someone.”

He looks around too, though he has no idea who or what he’s looking for.

“Sorry,” I sigh. “With everything going on, I’ve got a case of the heebie-jeebies.”

His eyes narrow on me. “Do you think someone’s following you?”

I shrug. “Like I said, I’m a little on edge at the moment.”

Donny looks around one last time and, apparently satisfied, falls back into an easy gait with me.

The bar’s filling up with people ready to start their weekend early on a Thursday, so he grabs a table while I order our pints. As I wait for the bartender to fill our glasses, a man passes by on the other side of the bar. Something about the way he carries himself is eerily familiar, but the place is crowded, and I can’t get a clear look. I dodge and peer around a few heads, but he slips out of my line of sight.

“You’re seeing things,” I mutter under my breath.

The bartender slides the drafts across the bar with a bright smile, and I pay him and deliver the frosty glasses to the table. When I sit, I pick up my pint and clink it against Donovan’s.

We each have a sip, and he leans back in his chair. “So what’s happening on the job front?”

“I contacted my old boss. That’s who called me a little while ago.”

Donny’s eyes go wide. “The guy who canned you? Why would you want to talk to that bastard?”

“It wasn’t all him. He was one part of a team that fired me,” I defend.

“That took some cojones, Jack.” My brother grins.

“I had to talk myself into it for at least an hour before I hit send on the email,” I admit.

Donny takes another sip. “Were you asking for your old job back?” He’s not kidding.

“I’m not that desperate, and I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t hire me back anyway,” I scoff. “I wanted to find out more about this law firm that sent the demand letter, and I figured he was the best place to start.” One corner of my mouth hitches up without my permission.

“And? What did you find out?”

I take a long cool sip of my beer, letting it soothe my parched throat. “He didn’t know a thing about it.”

My brother’s forehead furrows. “What does that mean?”

“Someone might have pretended to be Roscoe and sent a bogus letter.”

Donny sits back. “Whoa. No shit?” I nod. “Who would want to do that, though? And why?”

“Someone with a conniving disposition who’s trying to extort money from me.”

A thousand-lumens light snaps on in his gaze. “Your asshole ex is setting you up. Again.”

After another round, we head home, where I’ve got a meal to heat up for us. I’m feeling more upbeat than I’ve felt in days. Outside the bar, I loop my arm through Donny’s, and he chuckles. “Feeling those two pints you just chugged?”

Faking indignation, I remove my hand, turn to face him, and perch my hands on my hips. “I did not chug.”

He barks a laugh just as someone looms beside us. Too close. My head swivels … and my heart plummets to my knees.

“R-Randy!” I yelp.

His lips curl into a smile that borders on vicious, and there’s no trace of warmth in his brown eyes. “Hey, pigeon. It’s been a minute.”