Fox twisted his face, not needing the visual.
“Fuck you. It was hot. Really hot.”
Fox tilted the neck of his beer bottle at Dale. “Whatever does it for you, man. I’m not judging. So, let me guess. You two dated for a while, but ultimately he ended up going back to taking over Fortune 500 companies in the big bad city of Jacksonville.”
Dale gave Fox a look that made his stomach sink. “Yeah, he did. Five months later after he convinced me to marry him and give him my life savings to invest so the two of us could start our own ranch.”
“Fuck.” Fox huffed. No, that wasn’t what he was expecting Dale to say, and it must not have been easy to admit.
“You’re married?”
“Nope. Got it annulled. Bigamy is illegal in Georgia. He was already married to some chick in Lakeside with a rug rat named Jimmy.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, can you stop saying that now.”
“Sorry.”
“Y’know, he was such a good con man that he not only had me fooled but the whole damn town.” Dale shook his head. “When he first left me, I was so humiliated… and broke. I blamed it on everything I could think of, but especially the city and that corporate world.”
Fox wanted to tell Dale that Fletcher Garamond had probably never had a job at JP Morgan or any other financial firm, but why piss on a shitstorm. Damn. He’d had a feeling that Dale had been stung, but not like this. His dislike of strange men from the city who weren’t truthful about who they were automatically caused him to distrust them. And so far, Fox had continued to lie to the man who was second-in-command in Bull’s operation. He’d been disrespectful.
“But honestly, he was just a handsome, well-spoken hustler who set his sights on a naive country boy that fell in love the first time he got his cock wet.”
Fox sighed. “Fuck.”
Dale popped him hard on his shoulder. “Can you fucking think of something else to say,” he growled.
“No. Not really.”
“Yeah. I didn’t think so. I know you’re hiding something, Fox. Maybe not a terrible thing, but definitely something. And after what you did for Rid the other day, the way you reacted”—Dale pushed off the fence—“has my antennas up.”
“Look, Dale. I’m really sorry that happened to you. But good people have been getting conned by men and women for millennia. It had nothing to do with the city of Jacksonville, or any other city for that matter. Every man that lives in a population of over twenty-five thousand doesn’t have a polluted soul. They’re not all con artists and liars.”
“Oh really, land surveyor.” Dale frowned. “The only one I know with a stun gun and a .45 behind his back.”
Fox rolled his eyes because maybe Dale had a point. Fox pulled his phone out and put his name and Atlanta PD in the Google search bar. Once a few dozen articles came up, he took it and pushed the phone into Dale’s chest.
“I’m not a fake, Dale. Just… undercover.” Fox sat back in his chair and proceeded to finish his beer. “It’s not my fault you didn’t think to try Google.”
“You’re a cop,” Dale said, staring intently at the phone.
“I prefer lieutenant of Atlanta’s Special Weapons and Tactical Unit. But sure, or you can say cop.”
“It says you’re a prick cop.” Dale chuckled as he read a recent article on the bus hostage case.
“No. I am not. I just don’t like when bad guys try to hurt innocent people. Besides, the news likes to put a slant on the facts for a better story.”
“If you say so.” Dale kept glancing at Fox, then to the bright screen. “You look different in uniform.”
“Go ahead and say it.”
“Say what?”
“You think I look hot.”
“Fuck you.” Dale almost spat his gulp of beer out of his mouth. “I do not. It looks like you’re overcompensating with all this crap on.”
“It’s called riot gear… you ever been in one?”
“Wow.” Dale cocked his head to the side. “Does Bull know this? Because if he doesn’t, he’s about to.”
“Yes. Of course he knows—I don’t think I could lie to Bull even if I tried—but it’s why his dad brought me here.” Fox’s answered. “Walker and Bull are friends of my captain. When I heard of their vandalism problem, I figured I’d come out and see if I could help. Since I have some time off.”
“It says here that you got the axe.”
Fox shot to his feet, causing Dale to rear back in his chair. “It’s called administrative leave, fuckface.”
Dale put his hands up as if in surrender, then opened another article. “They really want you to treat the criminals with more respect?”
“Exactly. What the hell does that even mean?” Fox grumbled. “I’m just about over bleeding for this damn city.”
“Un-huh. It’s nice to get a little escape from real life, isn’t it?” Dale handed Fox back his phone and walked off the porch. “Hope you have a good night.”