“She’s Jaden Cutler’s recently ex- and very recently deceased girlfriend.”

“I don’t know who that is either.”

“Jaden Cutler is your neighbor, two doors down.”

“Oh fuck,” she whispered.

“Pack,” he grunted. “I’ll go to the grocery store. I’ll buy a fuckin’ skillet. But you and Ethan are in my condo until whatever the fuck is happening is done.”

“Merry, I think—”

Garrett cut his eyes to the Fiesta. “Dead in a pool of her own blood in a goddamned Ford Fiesta sitting at the curb in front of her sister’s house.”

He actually felt her emotion through the phone—horror, a vague sadness for a woman she didn’t know, concern about Merry—before tentatively, “Did this…Cutler guy…have anything to do—”

“Unknown.”

Her voice was a lot less hesitant when she reminded him, “He’s just my neighbor, Merry.”

“He’s a threat, Cher.”

“I—”

“You move in with me, or you move in with your mother, or you move in with Colt and Feb or Vi and Cal. Strike that, your mother’s off the list. It’s me, Colt, or Cal. Pick.”

“Maybe you can come by the bar tonight and we can discuss—”

“Me at the bar with you while Ethan and your mom are two doors down from this guy?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Pick, Cher,” he demanded.

She still didn’t say anything.

“Pick, baby,” he pushed.

“You,” she whispered.

Thank fuck.

“Pack,” he ordered.

“You’re bossy when you’re freaked out,” she muttered.

“I’m bossy all the time,” he returned. “Pack.”

“All right,” she said, but it came out as a grumble.

Garrett drew in a deep breath.

It didn’t release the feeling.

The sour. The fear. The poison.

“Don’t worry about the skillet. I’ll bring one,” she told him.

He closed his eyes and dropped his head.

The fucking skillet.

That was what he needed.

The sour. The fear. The poison. Gone.

“I got shit to do right now. Get you a key. We’ll sort it out later,” he told her.

“Okay, babe.”

“Glad you picked me, Cherie.”

“You think this is it?” she asked.

He didn’t get it. “What’s it?”

“The end of the suckage that seems to infest my life, this time even when I’m not making stupid decisions that fuck up said life and totally have nothing to do with it.”

He lifted his head and put his hand to his hip. “Don’t know, sweetheart. Just know with this particular suckage, I’m gonna be there to make sure you get through.”

She sighed. “Unfortunately, you’re right. I’m a dickhead magnet and I’m a life suckage magnet. This means, that asshole’s just my neighbor, but since I’m in close proximity, whatever his shit is would find some way to stick to me.”

“Lucky you’re not gonna be in close proximity. You’re gonna be in a crappy-ass condo four miles away.”

Some humor was back when she said, “Yeah, lucky.”

“Got a homicide to investigate, brown eyes. Gotta let you go.”

“Okay, honey. Do that shit quick and make my ’hood safe. The Mamas and the Papas are slated to come to dinner this weekend and I’m not sure they’ll dig your pad.”