Grave Secrets (Manhunters 1)

“That’s the impression I got.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you’re staying.” The words flipped a switch in her brain and her smile vanished. Her stomach chilled. “But, yeah, about that…” She glanced at Jamison, then back. “We should probably talk later.”

He held her gaze for an extended moment, silent and still. His gaze eventually lowered to Jamison. “Are you up for fielding some grounders?”

Jamison’s whole body stiffened, and he looked up at Ian as if he were a Greek god come to life. “Yeah.” Then his gaze jumped to Savannah. “Can I, Mom?”

She looked toward the road. “I don’t know. There’s still snow…”

But Jamison jumped to his feet, swung the storm door open, and ran to the porch with the mitt and ball.

Ian pushed off the wall, picked up the bat, and met her gaze. “It’ll give us time to talk.” He cocked his head toward the door. “Come on.”

Jamison was already running to the quiet street bordered by snow berms. Ian strode down the walk, and Savannah lost her train of thought as she watched. He moved with force and ease. His shoulders were wide and hard, stretching the thermal material. And, damn, this wasn’t the first time she’d noticed his amazing ass. Not the flat ass of a bean pole or the lard ass of a beer belly, but the high, tight ass of a man with muscle. She freed herself up at the diner every time he finished a meal just so she could watch him walk out.

“Might want to move your patrol car.” Ian’s words snapped Savannah out of her lust-filled thoughts, and she found him talking to Corwin, who’d stepped out of his vehicle. “Wouldn’t want to dent that spiffy paint job.”

“Holy shit,” she muttered under her breath. Corwin slanted an angry look at Savannah before speaking into the radio on his shoulder and dropping into his car again. She’d bet her next paycheck this event was being translated straight into Hank’s ear. “Just what I don’t need.”

But Ian and Jamison were already in position in the street, and her son was so excited to have someone to play ball with, he couldn’t stand still.

“Okay,” Ian called to Jamison. “Watch the ball and keep your mitt on the ground.”

As Savannah made her way to the street, Ian tossed the ball in the air and tapped it with the bat. The ball bounced, then rolled along the wet asphalt toward Jamison. He stopped the ball with his mitt and grinned like he’d hit a home run.

“Good job,” Ian said. “Now aim for my hand.”

Jamison’s grin faded. “Won’t it hurt without a mitt?”

“Nah, my hands are like leather. Come on.”

When Jamison hesitated, Ian glanced over his shoulder at the cruiser, then turned back to Jamison with “I warned him. If he doesn’t move, it’s his own fault. Toss it.”

Jamison looked at Savannah.

“You’re better than you think,” she encouraged.

Jamison hauled his arm back and threw the ball straight to Ian. The leather slapped Ian’s palm, and he laughed. “Whooo-we. You’ve got an arm on you, kid. Ready?”

Ian coached Jamison through a couple more grounders. Once they’d found a rhythm, he turned to Savannah, his expression curious. “So, what’s with the surveillance?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, exhaling her stress over the topic. “That.”

He hit another grounder to Jamison. “There’s either an inordinate amount of crime in this sleepy little town, or you’ve got a problem with your ex.”

“Can you guess which?”

He grinned.

She glanced at Corwin’s vehicle. “Unfortunately, my problems with him also seem to become the problem of anyone who’s nice to me.”

He didn’t respond, just encouraged Jamison with “That’s it. Good job.”

She lowered her voice. “I think it’s only fair for me to tell you that if you decide to stay in the duplex, he’ll make trouble for you.” The guilt of how this affected those around her felt heavy in her chest. “I’m really sorry. I—”

“You stopped apologizing for your ex a long time ago, remember?”

Her air leaked from her lungs. “Seems to be a hard habit to break.”