14
Mila
Marshal Pritt showed up a few minutes later than he’d told me to expect him, and real happiness at seeing a familiar face had me smiling.
The rumble of a bike faded that smile quick as hell, and Vigil sped past without looking at me. I blinked, hesitating in the doorway, my gaze trailing after him. Shoulders hunched, he looked like a man hurting or pissed off.
“Michelle?” Pritt murmured, tearing my attention off Vigil.
“Yeah, come on in.”
“Hey, kid,” he called to Devon who sat gaming in the living room with his back to us.
“Hey.” Devon didn’t turn, but I didn’t have the energy to chide him for being disrespectful. Not that the marshal had ever shown much consideration for him, anyway.
“Coffee?” I asked Pritt, leading him into the kitchen where I’d been ready to pour myself
