Free Promises to Keep by Maegan Beaumont Page A

his gun and gave it a few twists before pulling it clear. It came out clean.
    Besides, did he really think he’d been made to settle down? Fall in love, lead an average existence? Pancakes and crossword puzzles on lazy Sunday mornings. Walks in the park and neighborhood barbeques. He thought about Tom Onewolf, the only normal guy he knew. He had a wife and daughter and ran his uncle’s diner. For a moment, despite everything Michael knew about himself, he wished he could trade places with him. Be average. Be stable.
    Be someone else.
    Lark was right. Sabrina had done something to him. Made him want things he couldn’t have. To be a man he couldn’t even imagine. He tried to be angry at her, but it was no use. He’d decided a long time ago that whatever his problems were, she wasn’t to blame. He let her get too close; he had no one to blame but himself.
    He swiped the bulk patch over the slide, clearing away imaginary debris before adding a few drops of gun oil here and there.
    But it was possible now. She was in as deep as he was. He could finally have something, someone, he wanted. They could be together …
    As soon as the thought came to him, he rejected it. She deserved better—a lot better—than him. He thought of the cop who’d had the hots for her. Nickels. Yeah, he’d be good for her. He was clean. Capable. And just the thought of Sabrina with him made Michael want to kill something.
    He passed the bulk patch over the body of the gun, careful to clear the rails, and ran it over the lip of the magazine. A shadow fell over the table and he looked up, not at all surprised by who he saw standing over him.
    Michael smirked and dropped his eyes back down to the gun in his hand. “Did you fall down and hit your head or something, asshole?” he said.
    â€œMaybe, but I got enough wits to hear what Junior told you about your girl,” Lark said, still standing over him and still staring.
    Michael didn’t answer. He reached for his gun cloth and started rubbing away the fluid residue left on his dismantled gun. He got busy ignoring Lark; it didn’t matter, he just kept talking.
    â€œHe’s the one who told the boss about her, not me.”
    â€œTechnically, she turned herself in.” For me . His jaw clenched tight as he shot Lark a look. “Is this going somewhere, or are you looking for a shoulder to cry on?” He’d never been able to stomach Lark’s bitchy little girl routine for long; time had done nothing to stretch his patience. He fixed the slide back into place and racked it back to ensure it rode the rails without catching.
    â€œWhat I’m looking for is an apology.”
    Michael laughed. Tipped his head back and let loose. “Yeah? Well, keep looking because you won’t find one here.” He popped a fresh magazine into the grip of the gun and racked a bullet into the chamber before laying it on the table. He looked up at Lark. “You’re just pissy because she beat you to the punch. I’m sure you would’ve loved to be the one to offer up that little gem to Shaw.”
    â€œBut I didn’t.” Lark jabbed a finger over his shoulder at Ben. “He turned her, and he gets a pass? What’s up with that?”
    â€œHe did it to save her. What you did, you did to save yourself.” Michael stood, forcing Lark back a few steps away from the table.
    â€œI did what I did to save us both.”
    â€œRemind me to send a thank you card.” He looked down at the gun on the table.
    Lark read his mind. “Shooting me won’t change anything. You can’t have what you want. None of us can. We walked away from nine-to-five and minivans a long time ago. No use callin’ bullshit now.”
    Michael kept his expression neutral. “Has anyone ever told you that you have this annoying habit of repeating yourself?”
    â€œYeah, well, here’s another repeat, just so we’re