Free Just Keep Sweet (The Compound Series) by Melissa Brown

I’ll let you know what our next step is as soon as I figure it out.”
    Holly nodded with a decisive smile, but Aspen’s face was filled with conflict.
    “That doesn’t sit well with me. The clock is ticking, Jonathan. I have to keep him from Ruthie.”
    “Give me a couple weeks, Aspen, that’s all I need to pursue Penowsky. After that, we’ll regroup and decide our next step. And if you think of something on your end, text me. Shit, that reminds me.”
    I reached into my pocket and grabbed the burner phone I picked up the night before. “I want you to use this phone whenever you need to get a hold of me.”
    “Oh.” Relief swept across Aspen’s features. The hard lines of her face were softened and the beauty I’d known the past few months returned. “Thank you.”
    “Use the other one to contact your husband, your sister wives. Just not me. I already programmed my number in.” I turned to Holly, attempting to make light of our unique situation. “Obviously, I didn’t think to get you one since we just met an hour ago, but I can get one for you if you think it’s necessary.”
    “That’s all right, Clarence barely notices me.” She smiled. “And for the first time, I’m grateful. But when I get home he might ask about your reaction to the letter. What should I tell him?”
    “Tell him you delivered it and left immediately . . . that you didn’t get a chance to read my reaction,” I instructed. “Don’t feed into his games.”
    “No,” Aspen said. “Tell him Jonathan looked nervous, scared.”
    I turned to Aspen with a knitted brow, not understanding what that would accomplish and for the first time since Holly entered my office, she smiled. “We’ll beat him at his own game. Make him think he’s affecting you . . . that he’s getting under our skin.”
    Holly’s face lit up like a lightbulb. “I’m more than happy to do that.”
    I tilted my head to the side, mesmerized by the wheels constantly spinning inside Aspen’s head. “You never cease to amaze me. You know, I think you’re onto something, Little House.”
    “Little House?” Holly asked.
    “It’s a long story,” Aspen answered Holly, but her eyes never left mine. “A very long story.”
    I swear I wanted to drop to my knees. The mounting power this woman had over my emotions was no joke. Right then and there I knew I had to take my own advice.
    Just keep sweet, you lovestruck moron.
    “I’d better get back before Clarence wonders why I stayed so long.”
    “Good idea,” Aspen agreed. “I’ll leave in a little while, so we’re not seen together.”
    “Thank you for trusting me,” Holly said.
    “You’re welcome,” I replied, but Aspen stayed silent, offering Holly nothing but a curt nod. I’d always considered myself a jaded human being—after the hundreds of cases I’d worked on and the horrors I’d seen—but when it came to making others earn trust, Aspen had me beat . . . beat by a long shot. One of the many things I admired about this dainty yet fierce woman.

    After an all-too-exciting dinner of Chinese takeout in front of the television set, I ventured out to the Broken Oar bar about thirty minutes from my apartment. It was a dive, a real shithole with several lights burned out on the marquee, cigarette butts strewn across the entrance, and a billowing cloud of smoke that greeted you upon arrival. “Sweet Home Alabama” spewed from the speakers. I’d been lucky enough during my time with the force to avoid this establishment, so tonight was my introduction.
    Lucky me.
    Crossing the rotting wood floor, my eyes were peeled, taking in the atmosphere. Wood paneling lined the walls and stuffed fish hung on faded plaques. A woman who was clearly stuck in the ’80s with her ratted mullet hair and bright blue eyeshadow was straddling a hefty guy a few feet from the entrance. She ran her hands through the hair he had left on his receding hairline as he puffed his cigar.
    Classy joint.
    After scanning the