Free Beast (A Righteous Outlaws Novel #4) (The Righteous Outlaws) by Savannah Rylan Page B

anyone mentioned Chris, it was like pouring salt on a wound that never healed.
    “Yeah, well,” I said, not wanting to have this conversation. I hated how she used Chris’s death to try and make a point. It was a low blow that hurt and made all those awful, uncomfortable, self-deprecating thoughts fill my head.
    It took a long time, and several therapy sessions, to finally be able to look at myself in the mirror after his death. I knew it wasn’t good to hide from your emotions, but I didn’t like thinking about Chris, and I sure as hell didn’t like talking about him. It was a reminder of my biggest fuck up and how easily life can change.
    Maybe Mom was right though.
    “Halina, leave her alone,” Dad said, and I flashed him a quick smile of gratitude. “She is a cop, and a damn good one at that. You need to accept that she and Malaya are two different people, with different personalities and different ideas for their lives.”
    “I just don’t understand why she has to put herself in danger, that’s all.”
    Dad shrugged. “Part of the job. You know that.”
    “I know. I thought with you retiring I’d finally be able to breathe again, but no. I don’t know if I can do it for another thirty-years.”
    “Mom,” I said, taking her hand in mine. “You have nothing to worry about.”
    “Is that what Chris told Tiff the day he left and never came back?”
    My mother’s bluntness shouldn’t have shocked me anymore having been around it for most of my life, but she still managed to say things that packed so much punch it practically left me speechless and gasping for air.
    A familiar lump formed in my throat and I swallowed, forcing it back down. “I don’t know,” I managed. “And I don’t want to talk about it either.”
    “I’m just saying that you can promise me you’ll be safe until you’re blue, but your word means nothing because you can’t predict the future.”
    “No, I can’t. But what I can predict is that you have a nice roast about finished in the oven. You have a bottle of wine on the counter, and you wish I wore something other than jeans and a t-shirt.”
    “Don’t be smart with me,” Mom said, swatting at me.
    “Am I wrong?”
    Mom let out a loud breath, and then shuffled back to the kitchen, speaking a mile a minute in her native tongue, making it impossible to keep up.
    “Thanks for trying, Dad.”
    Dad draped his arms over my shoulder, and pulled me in for a hug. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “She means well.”
    “I know she does. But she still drives me crazy.”
    “She has that effect on people,” Dad said, and I laughed. “But that is why God invented wine.”
    “Now, you’re talking.”
    “Come on. I have a bottle of your favorite Riesling in the fridge.”
    I wanted to ask Dad more about the Outlaws, but I hadn’t had the chance to. At work, there were too many ears and, at home, we had Mom who seemed to have superhuman hearing. I didn’t want to worry her any more than she already was. So, I waited until dinner was done and she had kicked us out so she could clean up.
    “Mom, are you sure you don’t want help?” I asked, before walking out the back door.
    “Yes, yes. If you help, then I have to redo. It’s better if I just do.” My mother made me laugh. Nobody could do anything better than her. It reminded me when I was a kid and I surprised her by cleaning the house one day when she was out with Dad. I was so excited, and she thanked me, but I could see her eyes grazing across the vacuum lines, knowing I didn’t put them in the right direction. I could sense the itch in her fingers to get the glass cleaner and re-wipe the surfaces that were already spotless. She didn’t, and I knew it took a lot for her to let it go. She was a creature of habit, my mother, and she was happiest when she was left alone to do her thing. So, I didn’t argue. I grabbed my glass and followed Dad out to his shed.
    I sat on the couch as he took a beer from his mini