Ashes - Book 2 (New Adult Romantic Suspense) by Leslie Johnson Page A

off right now. Rigs are being washed, floors scrubbed. Anything to work the—
    Smack.
    I look over and see Jeff, the rookie, give the punching bag another shot. Smack. Smack. His jaw is set. His eyes hard. Smack. Smack. He keeps punching the bag. I know from experience he’ll keep punching until he can no longer lift his arms.
    I keep polishing a rim. Every man here has to let off steam somehow. The newly married couple will take a while to get over. The memory of how they’d died holding hands is physically painful to recall.
    Ken’s phone beeps and he stands up, stretches out his back and pulls the cell from his pocket. He looks relieved, then his thumbs move over the screen.
    “Onyx is out of surgery and the girls are going home,” he tells me and I feel his relief too … the mutt really grows on a man.
    “Glad to hear it. Any idea how she got out of the fence?”
    He picks up the sponge again and gets back to work. “Not yet. Steph was too upset to talk about it earlier.” He glances at his watch. “I’ll be off in a few hours. I’ll get the details then.”
    We wash and polish and work in silence for a while. His phone beeps and he straightens. Reads. Thumbs go to work. “Girls are going out Tuesday night,” he says. “I might pull together a poker match. Want to come over?”
    Tuesday. Shit. I shake my head. “Sorry. Got a date. Meeting up with Amber at some new club that’s supposed to have some crazy good DJ visiting from New York or New Jersey Tuesday night.” I don’t tell him that I only texted Amber just a half hour ago or that I set up the date because I need to get Beth out of my head.
    He frowns at me, but says nothing. Just keeps washing, the slow circles easing the speed of my thoughts. After a few minutes, Ken says, “I can finish this up if you need to go finish reading the pre-plan for the new casino.”
    “No, that’s okay, I’ve got all night. There’s something meditative about washing the rigs. After the accident earlier, it feels like washing away the bad. I’ve seen lots of death, but seeing that couple’s lives cut off before they even…”
    Ken clenches his jaw and spits out, “Fucking drunk. As usual, he walks away. What really pisses me off is that his daddy’s Armani suit wearing dirt bag lawyer will probably get him off with a fine or probation.”
    I completely agree. “Yep. Been there seen that.”
    Ken tilts his head. “When was that?”
    I throw the sponge into the bucket and feel the familiar rage run through me as I remember that time. “I was a witness at an accident. This dude plowed into the off-ramp guard rail; pretty much split his car in two. He had a girl in the front seat. No seatbelt and she basically got wedged under the glove compartment. She looked like she was curled into a ball. Dead instantly. The fucking dickhead driving was wandering around outside the car yelling that someone cut him off and now his car was destroyed.”
    Ken shrugs, a deep scowl wrinkling his forehead. “It always seems that way, doesn’t it? Everybody’s fault but theirs.”
    “Well, this time, it turned out to be my fault.”
    Ken’s head shoots up and he gives me a classic ‘what the hell?’ look.
    “While I was checking out the girl, I didn’t notice the dude split the scene. It wasn’t until the highway patrol showed up and the officer asked me if I was the driver that I realized the driver was gone. At first, I thought he may have been in shock and wandered off somewhere. The cop didn’t believe me since I was the only other person on the scene.”
    “No shit.”
    I shake my head. “No shit. Man, I was pissed. He even tried to fucking sobriety test me and was pulling out the handcuffs and the taser because I refused when another cop found the guy walking down the street. He had airbag burns on his arms and you could smell the alcohol on his entire body.”
    “Bet the patrolman really felt like an ass then.”
    I laugh. “Oh yeah. Super apologetic. We